Chapter 100

Madam Lu from the neighboring house quietly moved away one evening. Where she went, no one knew.

Madam Qi lost her partner in gossip and felt somewhat unaccustomed to it, but Fu Tingjun felt a trace of melancholy instead.

Mo Yi had become Zhao Ling's superior, and Zhao Ling would need to rely on Mo Yi for many things in the future. She had burned bridges with Madam Lu, and if she allowed Madam Lu to remain by Mo Yi's side, who knew what kind of pillow talk she might whisper into Mo Yi's ears. Dripping water wears through stone—who could guarantee that Mo Yi would always maintain goodwill toward Zhao Ling?

She could not take that risk!

Thinking of this, Fu Tingjun hardened her heart.

Zhao Ming, entrusted by Zhao Ling, brought her some rice, flour, sugar, and a letter.

In the letter, Zhao Ling asked about Master Xie's mourning-removal ceremony, and also said that he had just arrived at Niánbó Station, with a thousand matters demanding his attention, and could not get away for the time being. He asked her to hold the mourning-removal ceremony at home, and that when he returned to Zhangye, he would accompany her to the Great Buddha Temple to perform Buddhist rites for Master Xie's entire family.

Fu Tingjun put the letter away.

That evening, while Zheng Sanniang was attending to her bath, she brought up Zhao Ming: "He voluntarily followed our Ninth Master to Niánbó Station, and now he's already a registrar there. You should have seen this man—the first time he came, his words still carried a hint of arrogance without him even realizing it. But now he's completely different. Not only does he call my husband 'brother,' but when he heard that A Sen is the Master's sworn younger brother, he even gave A Sen about two or three taels of loose silver, saying it was for A Sen to buy writing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones."

This was only human nature.

Fu Tingjun said listlessly, "Did A Sen accept it?"

"No!" Zheng Sanniang laughed. "A Sen said that those who eat others' food must soften their words, and those who take others' gifts must yield to their wishes. Who knows what this Zhao Ming is up to. So he absolutely refused to take it, and said that this was what you had instructed."

Fu Tingjun smiled.

A Sen had learned some plain and honest principles from following Zhao Ling.

She asked Zheng Sanniang, "Did Zhao Ming mention Ninth Master?"

"How could he not!" Zheng Sanniang helped place the scented soap and towel beside the bath tub, and laughed. "He kept going on about how wonderful our Ninth Master was and how well they got along. He also talked about matters at Niánbó Station. He said the Wu family had been in Niánbó for three or four generations. Wu Ying had died without heirs, so they were discussing adopting a distant relative's child into Wu Ying's name, and then finding a way in the capital to have the child inherit the position. He also knew that having Ninth Master temporarily serve as acting chiliarch of Niánbó Station was the Marquis of Yingchuan's intention, and that once Ninth Master earned further military merit, he would formally assume the post. So they had been causing trouble for Ninth Master behind his back. But Zhao Ming also said that Ninth Master was formidable in his methods, acted with vigor and decisiveness, and with the Marquis of Yingchuan's support behind him, the Wu family could at most stir up a few ripples—there was no way they could topple Ninth Master. He also said that the Marquis of Yingchuan's father, the Duke of Fuguo, had recently been appointed Grand Tutor of the Heir Apparent, and the Emperor's favor was at its peak, so when the Marquis of Yingchuan wrote a single letter to the capital, the former Deputy General Liu was immediately impeached, and the Military Appointments Office, following the Marquis's wishes, made Lord Wang the new Deputy General." As she spoke, she grew delighted as well. "Young miss, do you think our master, having attached himself to the Marquis of Yingchuan, might also become a Deputy General someday?"

"Do you very much want to stay in Zhangye?" Fu Tingjun asked with a smile as she removed her clothes.

Zheng Sanniang caught a glimpse of Fu Tingjun's snow-white figure with its mountain-like curves, and was briefly dazed. She paused for a moment before saying, "Doesn't the young miss want to stay in Zhangye?" The breathtaking sight still lingered in her mind, and her tone carried a hint of distraction.

She wanted to be with Zhao Ling—anywhere was fine!

Fu Tingjun rested her cheek against the rim of the bath tub, cushioned by the towel, and was silent for a long while.

Following Zhao Ling's advice, she held the mourning-removal ceremony for her uncle at home and quietly took off the white hair tie from among her black tresses. Yet she still wore white silver-striped gauze blouses and indigo-blue horse-face skirts, and with the matter of Feng Dahu having occurred, she was even less willing to go out. These changes were subtle, and no one noticed anything unusual about her.

Perhaps it was because Madam Lu had moved away that the two young ladies of the Wang family came to visit every few days, occasionally even staying overnight.

Fu Tingjun did needlework with them, occasionally offering guidance, and sometimes told them stories from Buddhist scriptures or taught them to recite poetry. When A Sen finished his lessons, he would come to help Fu Tingjun split threads or cut fabric, and the Second Young Miss would tease A Sen, and A Sen would retort, and the two little ones would bicker noisily, making everything very lively. Even Linchun would sit on the threshold and refuse to leave. The household was always filled with laughter and joy.

Yet in her heart, she still felt a sense of loss. When alone, she would often sit on the kang, lost in thought.

Zheng Sanniang, being a woman of experience, vaguely guessed at Fu Tingjun's feelings. When the seventh month arrived, she asked Fu Tingjun, "For the Ullambana Festival—I heard from Madam Qi that many people go to the Ruo River to release river lanterns. Shall we go too?"

Of the three thousand waters of the Ruo, I will drink but one ladle.

Fu Tingjun's heart stirred with interest, yet she feared it might bring trouble, and hesitated.

Madam Qi came running over.

"Miss Fu, Miss Fu, have you heard?" she panted, sweat beading on her forehead. "A few days ago, someone broke into the Marquis of Xiping's estate outside Liangzhou and shot Feng Dahu dead with arrows."

"What did you say?" Fu Tingjun rose to her feet in shock.

"Really, really!" Madam Qi let out two gleeful chuckles, somewhat gloating. "It's been twelve days now. They say the man wore black clothes and a bamboo hat—all anyone saw was his chin. He came alone on horseback, riding straight for the Feng family's residence on the Marquis of Xiping's estate, loosed three arrows at Feng Dahu, then galloped away. By the time the Marquis of Xiping's household reacted, he was long gone. The heir of the Marquis of Xiping sent his household guards, five or six hundred men, to scour the entire Liangzhou area, but they couldn't find so much as a trace of the man. The Marquis of Xiping flew into a thunderous rage, brought over two hundred of his guards in person to see the Marquis of Yingchuan, and asked him to mobilize the troops of the Liangzhou garrison to hunt down the killer. The Marquis of Xiping is still inside the Commander's Office and hasn't come out yet!"

Alone on horseback... wearing a bamboo hat... dressed in black clothes... For no reason she could name, Zhao Ling's image surfaced unbidden in Fu Tingjun's mind.

Her mouth suddenly went dry. "Besides Feng Dahu, did this person harm anyone else?"

"No!" Madam Qi shook her head. "He killed only Feng Dahu. They say people did try to stop him afterward, but he merely swept them aside with his horsewhip without injuring a single one." A note of wistfulness crept into her voice. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if the Marquis of Yingchuan refused to let the Marquis of Xiping mobilize the Liangzhou garrison? That Feng Dahu deserved killing long ago!" At this, she added with some puzzlement, "Why didn't this person kill Feng Dahu before? Why wait until Feng Dahu had returned to the Marquis of Xiping's estate to make his move? Breaking into someone's home to kill—didn't he know it would enrage the Marquis of Xiping? Even if the Marquis never cared much for Feng Dahu, this was a slap in the face, and the Marquis couldn't possibly swallow that! And Feng Dahu was already a cripple—yet this person went to such lengths to kill him. That shows a blood feud deep as the sea. If he knew it would come to this, why didn't he act sooner..." As she spoke, her gaze drifted to Fu Tingjun. "Tell me, is it possible he didn't know his enemy was Feng Dahu before? Now that he knows, he's thrown all caution to the wind to make sure Feng Dahu dies? And that last time, Feng Dahu was trying to harm you!"

"I—I—I don't know!" Fu Tingjun's heart pounded wildly, all her blood rushing to her head, flushing her face crimson. "Everyone in my family is here—no one has gone far from home."

"That's true," Madam Qi said. "Now that Zhao Baihu has secured the position of Qianhu in full standing, everyone knows he's one of the most favored men before the Marquis of Yingchuan. What was Feng Dahu anyway? If Zhao Baihu had said the word, the Marquis of Xiping, who wouldn't dare cross the Marquis of Yingchuan now, would have bound Feng Dahu hand and foot and delivered him to Zhao Baihu to make amends. Why would anyone need to send a man to kill at the Marquis of Xiping's estate..."

Whatever Madam Qi said after that, Fu Tingjun no longer remembered.

She saw Madam Qi off in a daze, then lay alone on the kang. One moment she saw Zhao Ling smiling faintly at her, the next she saw him looking at her with helpless resignation, then frowning, then raising an eyebrow with murderous intent...

Was it connected to him?

Had he done it?

Fu Tingjun kept asking herself, feeling as though she had found the answer, yet also as though she were walking through a fog, unable to see the road ahead.

From outside came Linchun's cheerful laughter.

Fu Tingjun sprang up from the bed like a startled bird. "Zheng San, Zheng San, go quickly and find out—has the Marquis of Yingchuan agreed to let the Marquis of Xiping use the Liangzhou garrison to hunt down the killer for Feng Dahu?"

Zheng San looked puzzled but went off at her bidding.

Fu Tingjun lit three sticks of incense, bowed three times with reverence before the statue of Sakyamuni in the shrine, then sat quietly in the nearby armchair, waiting for Zheng San's return.

When Zheng San came back, he was drenched in sweat. "The Marquis of Yingchuan has agreed to let the Marquis of Xiping use the Liangzhou garrison to pursue Feng Dahu's killer." As he said this, his expression carried a knowing concern.

Fu Tingjun's heart suddenly hammered in her chest.

She gritted her teeth and instructed Zheng San: "Go to Nianbo Station at once and tell Ninth Master about this."

But Zheng San hesitated. "Miss, at a time like this, it's better to stay still than to move."

What if Zhao Ling really did this? He must have found some excuse to leave Nianbo Station. Nianbo Station and Liangzhou Garrison are at opposite ends—one in the south, one in the north. If he hasn't returned to Nianbo Station by now, or if he told the people there that he was going back to Zhangye... and they went looking for him, wouldn't that expose Zhao Ling's whereabouts!

"I understand!" Fu Tingjun nodded, but her heart was filled with bitter frustration.

Was this really Zhao Ling's doing or not?

Soon, the whole city of Zhangye was buzzing with talk about the incident.

Even Madam Wang laughed and said, "Whoever it was knew the layout of the Marquis of Xiping's estate like the back of their hand, came and went from Liangzhou as if no one could stop them, and left not a single trace along the way. My husband said this person is truly a talent. If they're found, he'd surely ask the Marquis of Xiping for the favor of keeping them in the Commander-in-Chief's service." By the end, her tone carried a hint of teasing.

But Fu Tingjun couldn't bring herself to smile.

She tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

Ever since Zhao Ling's letter asking if anything had happened at home, he had never come back again.

The thought flashed through her mind, and she sat up with a start.

If he had known about Feng Dahu's matter back then... given his temperament, how could he have just let it slide... It must be him, it must be him... Only he had the skill for this... That's why even Zheng San suspected it upon hearing the news...

Was that why he hadn't come home... because he felt he had no face to see her?

Fu Tingjun counted the days on her fingers.

Zhao Ling wrote to her once a month. She would wait another half month. If he still hadn't come to see her after that, she would go to him.