Chapter 110

Fu Tingjun did not know what it meant that Miss Tang's arm suddenly stiffened and then slowly relaxed, but Zhao Ling saw it clearly.

A sharp glint flashed through his eyes. He gestured for Fu Tingjun to stand behind him and said in a deep voice, "Miss Tang, I am but a man of little influence. Aside from finding someone to mediate the dispute between the Tang and Feng families, there is little else I can do to help. It is getting late—you should retire for the night. The Ullambana Festival is approaching, and I imagine you will want to make offerings for your father. Yanbo Garrison is a small place with no famous temples, so I will not keep you here. May I ask whether you plan to return to Xi'an Prefecture or to your hometown in Pucheng? If the person I approach is willing to act as intermediary, I will send word to you then."

Miss Tang's face turned as pale as white silk in an instant.

"Ninth Master..." she murmured, staring at Zhao Ling with shock written all over her face, as if she could not believe what she had just heard.

Zhao Ling's expression grew even colder. "Miss Tang, tomorrow morning Miss Fu and I will be going to purchase sacrificial offerings for the Ullambana Festival, to honor my parents as well. Zhao Ming, the Assistant Commander, will escort you out of the Shaanxi Regional Military Commission. I will not see you off—please take care on your journey. Until we meet again."

Miss Tang said nothing. She stood there silently for a long moment, then turned and left.

The courtyard fell into silence.

Fu Tingjun stepped forward and gently tugged at Zhao Ling's sleeve.

He smiled at her, but the smile carried a hint of desolation.

"The first time I met Miss Tang," he said, "it was when I did a private salt deal with her father—Miss Tang managed the Tang family's accounts and settled the profits with me. Later, Old Master Tang several times proposed betrothing her to me, and each time I declined politely. He felt he had lost face and wanted to dissolve our partnership. I was just starting out then; without Old Master Tang's support, my business would have struggled. It was Miss Tang who stepped in, arguing that 'business is business, and personal feelings are personal feelings,' and persuaded her father to continue. That was how my dealings with the Tang family survived." He shook his head. "I never imagined it would come to this in the end."

"All good things must come to an end," Fu Tingjun consoled him. "At worst, we can repay Miss Tang's kindness some other way."

"Forget it!" Zhao Ling was young, but he had seen his share of partings and reunions, and believed that meetings and separations were governed by fate. After a moment of reflection, he let it go. "Some things, others cannot help with. She has to come to terms with it herself." At this, he recalled the hostility Miss Tang had shown toward Fu Tingjun moments earlier, and said softly, "Did she frighten you?"

"Not at all!" Fu Tingjun laughed. After a moment's thought, she said candidly, "But seeing how much Miss Tang likes you makes me feel a little jealous. You'll have to make it up to me properly."

Zhao Ling was taken aback.

Fu Tingjun handed him her teacup. "Then I'll punish you by making you pour me a cup of tea!" She winked at him.

Zhao Ling laughed despite himself.

Fu Tingjun was trying to cheer him up in her own way!

He was suddenly filled with shame. "It's all my fault." He actually poured a cup of tea and offered it to Fu Tingjun with great deference.

Fu Tingjun had not expected Zhao Ling, who had always been so roguish, to suddenly become so meek. She took the cup and could not help but burst out laughing.

Zhao Ling sat down, picked up a piece of watermelon with a toothpick, and handed it to her, saying with double meaning, "The watermelon is sweet!" He had regained some of his mischievous air.

Fu Tingjun kept laughing.

Seeing her happy, Zhao Ling felt a weight lift from his heart, and a hint of tenderness showed in his brow.

"Little one, thank you," he said with feeling. "If it hadn't been for you today, Miss Tang's matter would not have been settled so quickly."

Ever since he had first met Miss Tang, Zhao Ling had made clear that he was already betrothed. Miss Tang had been gracious and open about it, even joking that she would like to become a close friend of Fu Tingjun's. Until just now, he had still believed that Miss Tang was merely trying to protect the Tang family's property... As it turned out, he had been careless.

But Fu Tingjun had a different question on her mind.

Zhao Ling was not an indecisive man, yet toward Miss Tang he had shown an extraordinary degree of forbearance.

She suddenly recalled their first meeting, when Zhao Ling had spoken of the Fu family's chastity arch with a slightly contemptuous tone.

Fu Tingjun called out softly, "Ninth Master," and asked, "How did your mother pass away?"

Zhao Ling's smile stiffened slightly. After a long pause, his expression slowly relaxed.

"Our family originally came from Zhuozhou, but when chaos engulfed the realm, we fled south to Jiangnan and settled in Songjiang," he said slowly. "We dealt in tea, silk, and porcelain, and over several generations gradually became one of the most prominent merchant families in Songjiang. Though my grandfather was a cadet branch of the Zhao clan, he was well-versed in practical affairs and the family was comfortably well-off. My father was clever from childhood. In the seventeenth year of Pingxi, he sat for the Ministry of Rites examination, placed sixteenth among the provincial graduates, passed the palace examination in the second tier, was selected in the court review, and was appointed by imperial decree to the Hanlin Academy as a bachelor. In the twenty-second year of Pingxi, he received a special appointment as prefect of Shuoping Prefecture in Shanxi. At that time, Shuoping was suffering a great drought, and after taking office, my father began repairing irrigation works. In the twenty-fifth year of Pingxi, he fell ill from overwork and died at his post. My mother brought me, still a child, back to our hometown with his coffin. My father was an only son, and my grandfather had already passed away, so much of the family affairs were managed by my father's foster brother, Zhou Sheng. Some members of the Zhao clan, seeing us as a widow and orphan, coveted our property and falsely accused my mother of having an affair with Zhou Sheng. Unable to bear such humiliation, my mother hanged herself outside the Zhao ancestral hall on the ninth day of the twelfth month that year."

Fu Tingjun was horrified.

She had thought such things only existed in stories and ballads—she never imagined such venomous people could exist in real life.

No wonder he had such particular sympathy for women who, though fallen on hard times, remained strong.

And perhaps she was one of them.

Fu Tingjun felt a mix of amusement and exasperation. She wanted to ask him why he had chosen her, but then thought better of it—since he had chosen her, she must have qualities that stood out, and dwelling on it further would only be selling herself short.

Still, Zhao Ling's father had been a jinshi in the seventeenth year of Pingxi. If her own father knew that, he would surely have a good impression of Zhao Ling.

She thought of how reticent Zhao Ling was about his origins, and how he kept referring to "the Zhao clan" over and over. She worried he might not want to discuss family matters, so she probed cautiously: "Do you hate the Zhao family?"

"I hated them at first," Zhao Ling said with a smile. "But as I experienced more of life, I sometimes thought—if I hadn't run away from the Zhao clan back then, if I'd stayed, maybe I'd just be a useless good-for-nothing who knows nothing but eating, drinking, and pleasure. So they say, fortune hides within disaster, and disaster lurks within fortune. Every bite and every sip is ordained by heaven."

Fu Tingjun's heart ached for Zhao Ling. She gently took his hand. "How old were you then?"

"Seven!" Zhao Ling smiled and clasped her hand in return. "I was too young to understand. I remembered how happy I'd been following my father in Shuoping, like a carefree immortal, and I wanted to go back—to play with my childhood friends, or seek refuge with my father's old companions."

Fu Tingjun let him hold her hand without pulling away, asking with concern: "But then how did you end up in Liangzhou trading horses?"

"While wandering, I met my master. He was a Taoist priest who'd been badly injured in a fight and could no longer use his strength, so he made a living performing rituals for people. When he saw that I could read, and since he happened to need an acolyte to burn incense and ring the bell, he pressed me into service as his attendant. Later, when he saw how quickly I learned, he began teaching me some martial arts in bits and pieces. By the time I was eight, I formally became his disciple. He brought me to Tianyi Temple in Zhang County, where we settled down, and he devoted himself wholly to teaching me reading, writing, and martial arts. When I was thirteen, my master passed away. I wanted to return to Jiangnan, but I had no money. I heard horse trading was profitable, so I went to Liangzhou."

Zhang County and Longxi County both belonged to Gongchang Prefecture and bordered each other.

Fu Tingjun was both surprised and delighted. "So I guessed right after all? You actually lived in Zhang County for four or five years!"

Zhao Ling laughed too. "That's why I said—calling me a man of Longxi County isn't wrong either."

The two smiled at each other, feeling that even the moonlight had grown softer.

Fu Tingjun asked Zhao Ling: "Did you traffic in private salt to gather wealth, so you could fight your way back to Jiangnan and clear your mother's name?"

Zhao Ling nodded. "And to rebury my mother's remains beside my father. My father's grave needs proper care too."

Fu Tingjun felt a pang of guilt hearing this, but she pouted and said: "Well, I'm not going to apologize—if you'd gone back to Jiangnan, how could I, how could I have been with you!"

Such sincerity and directness, tinged with a charming petulance, softened Zhao Ling's heart completely.

"Father and Mother will know I've found them a fine daughter-in-law—surely they won't blame me for not returning sooner!" he teased her.

She widened her eyes and shot him a glare. "There you go, spouting nonsense again."

Zhao Ling laughed heartily, feeling as carefree as an immortal.

...

The next day, after Fu Tingjun and Zhao Ling returned from buying sacrificial offerings, Miss Tang had already left Ledu, escorted by Zhao Ming.

Miss Tang had left no message behind.

Zhao Ling paid it no mind. He discussed the Ullambana Festival rites with his subordinates and went out early each morning, returning late each night.

A lady from the household came to visit Fu Tingjun and asked curiously: "How is it I haven't seen Miss Tang?"

"She received her father's dying wish to ask Ninth Master to help preside over the division of the family estate," Fu Tingjun said with a smile. "Since Ninth Master couldn't easily appear in person, he found another person of high standing to assist Miss Tang instead. She's hurried home."

The lady said "Oh," and asked Fu Tingjun about the Ghost Festival: "I wonder if it will be held this year? If so, at which temple?"

"I wouldn't know about that either," Fu Tingjun said, thinking of Madam Qi, and so she paid extra attention when speaking with these officials' wives.

The lady looked somewhat disappointed, and after sitting for a while, she rose and took her leave.

When Zhao Ling returned, she told him about this matter.

Zhao Ling laughed and said, "Both the Buddhist temples and the Taoist abbeys want to host the sacrificial rites. They're mostly coming to sound you out about the government's intentions, to see who the authorities will entrust the matter to. Because when the government takes the lead, there's usually a generous reward. And the person who recommends someone to the government gets a red envelope."

"How complicated!" Fu Tingjun said, shaking her head with a smile.

Gradually, no one mentioned Miss Tang anymore.

The traces Miss Tang left behind vanished quickly, like dew on a summer morning.

On the day of the Ghost Festival, Zhao Ling and Fu Tingjun went together to the City God Temple.

Fu Tingjun discovered that the temple housed both monks and Taoist priests—the monks were reciting the Great Buddhist Canon in the main hall, while the Taoists were chanting the Supreme Three Officials Scripture at the entrance. Each group went about their own business, coexisting peacefully.

Fu Tingjun was dumbfounded.

But Zhao Ling whispered in her ear, "Anyway, inviting a few extra bodhisattvas can only do good, never harm."

Fu Tingjun barely suppressed her laughter.

After Zhao Ling presided over the Ghost Festival sacrificial rites, Fu Tingjun was surrounded by the officials' wives and escorted to the rear hall for tea and rest. After the midday meal, everyone went together to browse the temple fair. In the evening, after returning to the City God Temple for a vegetarian meal, some people headed home, while others went outside the city to the Su Mu River to release floating lanterns.