Chapter 159

Although spring had begun, the weather in the capital showed no sign of warmth—the north wind still howled and snow fell thick and fast. Yet in Fu Tingjun's room, the hypocaust had been burning since the start of winter last year and, never having been extinguished, kept the room as warm as spring.

She wore only a small crimson jacket patterned with rosette flowers, her cheeks flushed pink, as she curled up on the large kang by the window, reading a chess manual.

On the windowsill sat a pot of crimson "Eighteen Scholars" camellias, blooming with blazing intensity, their heavy blossoms bending the branches low—gorgeous and exuberant.

Feeling a bit thirsty, Fu Tingjun looked up. Zhenzhu, who had been quietly sitting on a small stool by the kang dividing silk threads, immediately rose: "Madam, what would you like?"

She didn't know where Zhao Ling had heard it, but apparently, if a pregnant woman did needlework, her child would be born with a tiny hole in the ear.

Fu Tingjun had been skeptical, so she'd sent Yuwei to ask her mother. When Madam Fu confirmed it, she was so frightened she never dared touch a needle again. When Zhao Ling found out, he grew even more anxious, and eventually it reached the point where no one in the household was allowed to hold a needle in Fu Tingjun's presence.

Since Zhenzhu and Kou'er served at her side, all the needlework for the unborn child fell to the two women bought just before the new year—Mrs. Tong and Mrs. Zhou. Even so, Zhenzhu and Kou'er weren't idle either, often helping with tasks like dividing threads and ironing.

"Pour me a cup of water," Fu Tingjun said lazily. "Not tea—just warm water will do."

She was nearly six months pregnant, yet her body still felt languid and listless, so much so that every time Zhao Ling saw her, he teasingly called her "Begonia Fairy"—spending her days lounging lazily in bed.

Zhenzhu acknowledged the request and quickly returned with a cup of warm water.

As Fu Tingjun was drinking, Mrs. Tong came in carrying several small garments.

She was a woman in her early thirties, with a dignified and graceful appearance.

According to Jin Yuanbao, who had helped them purchase the servants, Mrs. Tong had originally been the daughter of a respectable family. But her parents had died young, and her uncle, who took charge of the household, married her off to a ruined wastrel. That wastrel, having no sense of propriety, fooled around outside and borrowed money he couldn't repay. He tried to sell Mrs. Tong to a brothel, but she refused to submit even at the cost of her life. After throwing herself into the river and being rescued, she voluntarily sold herself into servitude, and it was at the broker's that she encountered Jin Yuanbao... The other woman, Mrs. Zhou, was a peasant wife who, because her only son was sick and they had no money for treatment, was voluntarily sold by her husband.

Mrs. Zhou's appearance was quite ordinary, but she exuded an air of honesty, and she approached her work with exceptional diligence.

Fu Tingjun was very satisfied with both of them.

"These are the little clothes made over the past few days," Mrs. Tong said, placing the garments on the kang table. "Please see if there's anything that needs to be changed."

Fu Tingjun picked up one of the garments... shoulders five inches wide, sleeves four inches long... She couldn't help exclaiming, "This, this is much too small, isn't it?"

"Not small, not small," Mrs. Tong said with a smile. "Newborn babies are only this big."

Hearing this, Fu Tingjun examined the clothes more carefully.

They were tiny, like clothes made for a doll, and she found them utterly adorable—so much so that she couldn't bear to put them down.

"Why don't any of these clothes have buttons sewn on?" she asked Mrs. Tong.

Mrs. Tong smiled: "The buttons are sewn on only after the child is born—it symbolizes completeness and perfection."

There were too many customs and traditions to keep track of; Fu Tingjun was already exhausted by them. She didn't press further, simply instructing Zhenzhu to put the items away.

Kou'er announced from behind the curtain: "Madam, Madam Wu has come to visit!"

After she had politely declined Madam Ji's invitation on the ninth day of the ninth month last year, Madam Wu had sent another invitation, asking her to come admire the chrysanthemums at her home. But by then, Fu Tingjun had already been diagnosed with pregnancy, which gave her a perfectly legitimate excuse to decline. When Madam Wu and Madam Ji learned she was with child, they had even come specially to visit her.

Fu Tingjun instructed Kou'er to "invite Madam Wu in at once," while she got off the kang and slipped on her shoes.

Mrs. Tong nimbly crouched down to help her put them on.

Once her shoes were on, Fu Tingjun tidied her appearance, changed into a fresh outfit, and went to the reception hall.

Madam Wu, attended by Zhenzhu, was just lifting the curtain to enter.

The two came face to face.

"Oh my!" Madam Wu greeted Fu Tingjun before she could speak. "Look at your complexion—it's even better than before." Then she stepped forward, took her hand, and looked her up and down, wearing an expression as if she wanted to say something but hesitated.

Fu Tingjun pretended not to notice, and the two sat down in their respective seats as host and guest. Zhenzhu served tea and withdrew, and Fu Tingjun smiled and asked Madam Wu, "What have you been up to these days? I heard His Majesty changed the reign name to Jingde and held a grand ancestral ceremony. During the Lantern Festival, not only West Avenue, but East Avenue and Gulou Street all held lantern fairs. Unfortunately, it's inconvenient for me to go out—otherwise, I would certainly have gone to see the excitement."

"I've been busy with all sorts of things these past few days," Madam Wu said with a smile. "Do you remember how our carriages nearly collided last time when I was on my way to pick up Madam Yu? Well, I've been accompanying Madam Yu all this time." She spoke with a hint of pride on her face. "The eldest Young Master Yu carries the responsibility of three branches of the family, and he's been married for nearly two years now, but the Young Mistress Yu hasn't shown any signs of pregnancy. Madam Yu has been quietly worrying, so she's had me and Madam Ji accompany her to various temples to pray to Buddha for a child!"

When Madam Wu had first mentioned that Madam Yu was sending her daughter-in-law to the capital to reunite with her son, Fu Tingjun had already vaguely guessed as much. Otherwise, how could Lady Fan, with a grandmother-in-law above her and a mother-in-law below her, possibly have followed her husband to his post?

"Many temples in the capital are quite efficacious," she said politely to Madam Wu. "I'm sure the Young Mistress Yu will have news before long."

"That's what I've been telling Madam Yu to reassure her," Madam Wu said, then picked up her teacup and took a sip, letting out a somewhat exaggerated exclamation. "This is Tieguanyin from last autumn's harvest—the flavor is truly rich and mellow."

The tea had been sent by Madam Wang through a messenger, along with two embroidered handkerchiefs made by the two young ladies of the Wang family, a gift of fifty taels of silver, and a reply letter.

"You have a discerning palate, madam," Fu Tingjun said with a smile. "It was a gift from an elder relative living in Fujian."

"You have relatives in Fujian!" Madam Wu exclaimed in wonder, then suddenly lowered her voice. "I've heard that Lord Zhao has wide connections and that during his years in Shaanxi, he amassed quite a bit of property. I wonder if there's any truth to that?"

Seeing how secretive Madam Wu was being, and not wanting anyone to know that Zhao Ling had once dealt in smuggled salt, Fu Tingjun felt somewhat displeased.

She didn't hide her feelings, and her expression turned cold. "I only married into this family in August," she said. "What you're speaking of, I'm hearing for the first time."

Madam Wu naturally sensed the change in Fu Tingjun. A flicker of embarrassment passed through her eyes, and she quickly said, "Please don't misunderstand, Madam Zhao. I meant nothing by it. I only asked because I have a matter on which I'd like to request Lord Zhao's help."

Finally, they'd arrived at the real topic.

Fu Tingjun took a leisurely sip of tea and said, "Though we're both third-rank officials, your husband Lord Wu is a Vice Minister of Rites, while my husband Lord Zhao is merely a guard. I'm not sure he'd be of much help."

The refusal was already quite clear.

A flash of disappointment crossed Madam Wu's eyes, but she quickly rallied and said with a smile, "So what if our Lord Wu is a Vice Minister of Rites? The truth is, this matter can only be handled by your Lord Zhao."

Fu Tingjun was doubtful.

Madam Wu continued, "Madam Zhao, I have a relative who has long been in the silk and tea trade. Hearing that those doing business beyond the passes have been making a fortune these past few years, he's taken a mind to try it as well. But the journey is long, and from Yongjing to Jiayuguan falls under the jurisdiction of the Regional Military Commission—we don't know a single soul there. We were hoping Lord Zhao might offer some guidance." She added, "And you and I could join in too, earning a bit of pocket money for rouge and powder each time."

This was blatant bribery!

Fu Tingjun felt even more contempt for this Madam Wu.

"I recall that you're from Jiangnan, madam," she said. "If this relative of yours is also from Jiangnan, then surely he knows that to the east lies the Ningbo Maritime Trade Supervisorate, and to the west the Guangdong one. Rather than going to the trouble of organizing a caravan to cross the passes, wouldn't it be just as profitable to do maritime trade instead?"

Madam Wu hadn't expected Fu Tingjun to be so knowledgeable. Her expression stiffened slightly. "The Ningbo and Guangdong Maritime Trade Supervisorates are the Emperor's private money bags," she said. "They're run by eunuchs, and there's no way to get a foothold in them. We did consider organizing ships to go out to sea privately, but we can't even get a word in with those coastal patrol offices..."

She was determined to have Zhao Ling put in a word.

If not for Madam Wu's earlier mention of "rouge and powder money," Fu Tingjun might have been willing to pass a message along to Zhao Ling. But now, there was no way she would have anything to do with this Madam Wu.

"Madam, you're ignoring the Bodhisattva and praying to the temple attendant instead," Fu Tingjun said with a pursed smile. "Since you're acquainted with Madam Yu, why not have Lord Yu put in a word for you with the Duke of Fuguo? That would be far more effective than ten or even a hundred words from us."

Though civil and military officials traveled in different circles, Lord Yu and the Duke of Fuguo were both pillars of the state, and it would be far easier for him to gain an audience with the Duke than for ordinary people.

Madam Wu wore a strange expression and said in a low voice, "You may not know this, Madam Zhao, but I've heard that the Marquis of Yingchuan is about to be transferred back to the Five Armies Supervisory Office... Even if we asked Lord Yu to intervene, the Duke of Fuguo's household might not be willing to help!"

So he really was being transferred back!

Fu Tingjun felt a moment of dazed distraction.

After that, she parried Madam Wu's every advance—no matter what Madam Wu said, she refused to agree to pass a message to Zhao Ling on her behalf.

Madam Wu, mortified and furious, forced herself to swallow her displeasure, exchanged a few perfunctory pleasantries, and rose to take her leave.

Yuwei asked Fu Tingjun with some concern, "What if she makes things difficult for Ninth Master..."

Before she could finish her sentence, a clear and refreshing voice laughed, "Who are you afraid will make things difficult for me?"

The curtain was lifted, and Zhao Ling walked in, heading straight for Fu Tingjun.

Fu Tingjun's eyes brightened slightly, and she said, "Why are you back so early today?" She moved to get off the kang and slip on her shoes, but Zhao Ling pressed her back down. "Now that things have settled these days, there's much less to do." As he spoke, he crouched in front of Fu Tingjun as he always did, gently stroking her belly while speaking softly to the child inside: "Were you good today? Did you give your mother any trouble? Father came home early today, and your mother is very happy..."

This was something Zhao Ling did every day when he came home now.

Fu Tingjun said with a hint of jealousy, "A well-dressed person looks seventeen or eighteen, but a poorly dressed one looks like a newborn—the child can't understand you anyway."

"What does it matter if he understands or not," Zhao Ling kissed her belly, "I know it in my heart." His joy was written all over his face.

Fu Tingjun was speechless for a long while.