Chapter 27

A few strangers had suddenly arrived in the village, and it was only natural for the clan head to want to meet them. Though she bore the title of the main family, she was a woman, so of course she could only summon the "steward," Zhao Jiuye, to answer questions. Moreover, throughout the journey, Zhao Jiuye's competence had been plain for all to see, and Fu Tingjun felt quite assured. Hearing what Zhao Jiuye said, she didn't ask further, but instructed A Sen to fetch water for Zhao Jiuye to wash his hands, while she went to set out the chopsticks and bowls.

A Sen, grinning, grabbed a flatbread and squatted on the doorstep, wolfing it down.

Master and servant did not share a table.

Fu Tingjun, born into a distinguished family, certainly understood this rule. But A Sen shared a bond of hardship with her, which made him somewhat special in her eyes.

She glanced toward Zhao Jiuye.

Zhao Jiuye kept his head down, sipping his soup.

Fu Tingjun shot him a quiet glare, then scooped half a bowl of dishes and grabbed a few more flatbreads to hand to A Sen: "When you're done, I'll add more!"

A Sen took the bowl, joy dancing in his eyes and brows: "Thank you, miss!"

Fu Tingjun couldn't help but smile at the sight.

Returning to the table, it suddenly struck her that men and women also shouldn't share a table...

Watching Zhao Jiuye, who was eating with focused attention, Fu Tingjun muttered inwardly.

He sat there, bold and sprawling—so where was she supposed to sit?

Thinking of Zhao Jiuye's origins, and that even A Sen, whom he had raised, was crouching at the door, let alone her.

Was she to do as those village women did, taking her bowl to eat by the stove mouth in the kitchen?

Fu Tingjun felt a flicker of displeasure.

In the past, she had been the unmarried daughter of the Fu family—whether at meals or at opera performances, even if there was no seat for her sisters-in-law, there was always one for her. Even after marriage, her husband's family was a renowned clan south of the Yangtze, and her betrothed had passed the county exam at fourteen and the provincial exam at eighteen... She had never imagined a day when she would have no seat at a meal!

Fu Tingjun's shoulders slumped.

She had already been released from her engagement...

Zhao Jiuye noticed Fu Tingjun lingering by the table without making a move, and set down his chopsticks to ask: "Why don't you sit down and eat?"

"Ah!" Fu Tingjun's apricot eyes flew wide.

"What's the matter?" Zhao Jiuye asked, puzzled.

"Nothing, nothing!" Fu Tingjun had always felt that eating by the stove mouth was the way of serving women, and she didn't want to sink to the level of being like Zhao Jiuye's maid. Now that she didn't have to go eat by the stove, she felt a bloom of delight.

She quickly sat down, lifted her chopsticks, and took a piece of tofu, a bit hastily.

Zhao Jiuye grew suspicious, pondered for a moment, and said: "Are you thinking we should eat at separate tables?" The words left his mouth, and he immediately felt his guess was right, adding: "In urgent times, we bend the rules. We're fleeing famine now, lodging in Li Family Hollow, and our food is nothing more than two small dishes and a few flatbreads. Some conventions can be set aside for now! We'll revisit them once we're settled." Inwardly, he cursed himself for carelessness—having spent so long with Yuanbao and Yucheng, he had long forgotten such formalities.

"No, no!" Fu Tingjun, hearing Zhao Jiuye's unusually gentle tone, as if explaining and comforting at once, grew uneasy instead. She wanted to explain but couldn't find the words, so she changed the subject: "I heard from A Sen that Ninth Master likes flatbreads—are there other things you enjoy eating?"

Zhao Jiuye looked at her in surprise.

Why was he looking at her like that... Had she said something wrong...

The thought flashed by, and Fu Tingjun's cheeks flushed slightly.

He wasn't her father or brother—how could she ask such an intimate question? No wonder he looked at her that way!

"I was thinking that once we're on the road, we'll only have steamed buns and cold water," she said, grasping at an excuse in her quick wit. "Since we still have half a day of rest tomorrow, I thought I'd make a few dishes to give Ninth Master and A Sen a little treat."

Zhao Jiuye gave a noncommittal nod: "What would you like to eat? I'll go check the village tomorrow!"

Another blunder!

Fu Tingjun lowered her head in dismay.

These were famine times, and they were lodging in Li Family Hollow—what good things could there be? Zhao Jiuye didn't say what he liked, only asked what she liked—clearly he had mistaken her for a glutton!

"This is fine as is—all my favorites." As if to prove she wasn't just being polite, she picked up a piece of fried winter melon.

Zhao Jiuye looked at Fu Tingjun, who had been so animated moments ago but now deflated like a pricked balloon at his single remark, then looked at the dishes on the table, and said: "Did you cook this?"

Fu Tingjun gave a slight nod: "I had learned a bit at home, so I volunteered to take charge of the cooking."

So that was it...

He gave an "Mm," then said: "The cooking is quite good—far better than A Sen's."

Far better than A Sen's...

How old was A Sen?

How old was she?

What did A Sen do?

What did she do?

The Fu family's private recipes were famous—every magistrate appointed to Huayin would come to the Fu household to sample them. She had been specially trained by the women in the kitchen!

Still, this counted as a word of praise, didn't it... Since they had known each other, this was probably the first time he had praised her... So let it be, she wouldn't quibble with him over it.

Fu Tingjun's anger dissipated once again. She said, "Thank you for the compliment, Ninth Master," and lowered her head to eat without another word, not even noticing that the corners of her mouth had already curved up into a pleased arc.

Zhao Jiuye, sitting across from her, shook his head.

One moment angry, the next happy... Still a child's temperament!

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

...

The journey had been fraught with fear and vigilance, keeping everyone's nerves taut. Now that they had reached a safe place, after supper and some tidying up, the three of them collapsed into sleep. When they woke, the sun was already high in the sky. Zhao Jiuye inspected the handcart while Fu Tingjun and A Sen boiled water, baked flatbreads, and steamed buns.

The Eleventh Granny of the Li family, who lived next door, had heard of Fu Tingjun's situation and, knowing she was leaving that day, specially sent over ten boiled eggs: "Take these to eat on the road!"

Fu Tingjun was deeply grateful and carefully baked ten scallion pancakes to send back in return.

The old lady stroked Fu Tingjun's smooth, delicate hand, as fine as mutton-fat jade, and sighed inwardly, but the words of help she wanted to offer simply would not come out—after all, she herself was currently living as a dependent at her maiden home with her entire family. She could only repeatedly urge Fu Tingjun to be careful on the road.

Back in the room, Qi Ye and his wife had arrived.

Qi Ye's wife brought a bottle of Huoxiang Zhengqi water: "Madam Xie was such a good person..." As she spoke, her eyes reddened and tears streamed down her face, setting Fu Tingjun to crying as well.

Qi Ye, who had been keeping Zhao Jiuye company in the main room, heard the commotion and offered some words of comfort. Then the couple took their leave: "When you leave, we won't see you off."

Zhao Jiuye expressed his thanks repeatedly and escorted the couple all the way to the willow tree outside the gate.

Fu Tingjun pulled herself together and, with A Sen, poured the cooled boiled water into the water skins.

Zhao Jiuye walked over and said in a low voice, "This is Li Family Hollow—not a suitable place for mourning rites. Once we reach Xi'an Prefecture, we'll ask the elders of Daxingshan Temple to hold a memorial service for Master Xie's entire family."

"Thank you, Ninth Master!" Fu Tingjun suppressed her grief and turned a radiant smile toward him. "Then I'll have to trouble you to take me there as well!" The glimmer in her eyes was as crystalline as dewdrops.

Zhao Jiuye said nothing, gazing at her steadily with a deep, unreadable look.

The atmosphere in the room grew still along with his gaze.

Fu Tingjun felt rather ill at ease.

A Sen, who had been loading the water skins onto the handcart, came running over: "Miss, should we put some salt in the water—I saw Sister Shang using salt to cure meat, and it kept the meat from spoiling all the way until the next spring!"

His words shattered the silence and brought life back to the room.

"Good idea!" Fu Tingjun quickly turned her head away. "Drinking lightly salted water in summer can relieve heatstroke." She added, "It's getting late—let's make lunch! After we eat and rest a bit, we should be on our way."

"Mm!" A Sen responded, walking side by side with Fu Tingjun into the kitchen.

Zhao Jiuye stood there for a long while before turning and going inside.

...

The sun gradually slanted toward the west, casting golden light upon the tall wooden palisade of Li Family Hollow—tranquil and peaceful.

Fu Tingjun sat on the handcart as they quietly left Li Family Hollow, resuming their routine of traveling at dawn and dusk with a midday rest.

During this stretch, they encountered a few attempted robberies, but Zhao Jiuye fended them all off. Once, it even happened in the middle of the night—Fu Tingjun was a light sleeper, but by the time she opened her eyes, Zhao Jiuye's staff had already struck the attacker's leg...

After four or five days of travel, the scenery gradually began to change—beneath the stripped trees, a few blades of vivid green grass would occasionally sprout.

They had entered Lintong territory.

"Xi'an Prefecture is just past here!" A Sen shouted loudly, running over to pluck a blade of grass and hand it to Fu Tingjun.

His joy was written all over his face.

Fu Tingjun's spirits lifted: "How many more days until we reach Xi'an Prefecture?" She brought the grass to her nose and inhaled its scent carefully.

"At most five days." Even Zhao Jiuye's stern face showed a hint of a smile. "We'll rest tonight in Dong'an Village."

"Is Ninth Master very familiar with this area?" Fu Tingjun looked at him in surprise.

"I've passed through a few times before!" Zhao Jiuye said vaguely. "I remember the village isn't far from the post road."

A Sen looked as if he wanted to say something but held back.

Another secret!

Fu Tingjun pursed her lips.

Zhao Jiuye pushed the handcart off the post road and onto a dirt path beside it.

Someone pushing a handcart followed behind them.

Zhao Jiuye, without changing his expression, quickened his pace.

The person quickened theirs as well.

Zhao Jiuye slowed down, and the person slowed down too.

Fu Tingjun glanced curiously over her shoulder.

The cart was being pushed by a sturdy man of about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, carrying a woman with a kerchief wrapped around her head, who held a child of about two or three in her arms.

Clearly, like them, they were refugees fleeing hardship.

"Sit tight!" Zhao Jiuye suddenly whispered to Fu Tingjun, then spun around, standing there with a cold, stern expression, staring at the man.

The man clearly hadn't expected this, his face full of surprise, his steps faltering.

Perhaps sensing something amiss, the woman seated on the handcart lifted her head.

Fu Tingjun caught a glimpse of a delicate, pretty face.

The woman glanced at the scene before her and quickly lowered her head.

Zhao Jiuye stepped back a few paces with the handcart, gesturing for the man to go ahead.

A flicker of embarrassment crossed the man's dark, ruddy face as he slowly pushed the handcart past them.

Zhao Jiuye remained rooted to the spot, not moving until the man had pushed the handcart onto a field path and entered the village to the east. Only then did he push Fu Tingjun forward again.

"What was that man up to?" Fu Tingjun asked, somewhat puzzled.

"No idea!" Zhao Jiuye said casually. "If others don't provoke me, I won't provoke them. But if they do..." He left the rest unsaid.