Chapter 59

Fu Tingjun had never considered herself beautiful.

When she was young, she would visit relatives with her sisters, and those older male cousins, family friends, and young uncles always liked to tug at her hair ribbons and scare her with ghost stories.

Once, her Sixth Aunt's youngest brother, Shu Ming, came to visit and said her landscape painting wasn't good, insisting on painting it for her. That was homework assigned by her tutor, and her mother had taught her from childhood never to cheat. She refused to let him paint it, and in the scuffle, the inkstone was knocked over, splattering ink all over her newly made peach-colored Hangzhou silk skirt. She trembled with fury and got into a fight with him that the servants nearby couldn't pull apart.

When Sixth Aunt's mother learned of this, she gave Shu Ming a severe beating, confined him to his room for a month, and docked half a year's allowance. From then on, whenever he encountered Fu Tingjun, he would call her "ugly monster."

She refused to accept it at the time: "I'm not an ugly monster. Grandmother likes me best."

Shu Ming snorted coldly: "That's because she's your grandmother. Look at everyone else—whenever you stand there, people can't help but look at you twice."

Fu Tingjun didn't believe him and argued back, but she secretly observed and found that it was indeed as Shu Ming had said—no matter where she went or who she was with, others would always give her a second look.

She felt deeply wounded and lay on her bed, crying her heart out.

Her wet nurse learned of this and comforted her: "That's because our Ninth Miss is the most beautiful."

Fu Tingjun didn't believe her: "That's because you're my wet nurse."

The wet nurse said she would go tell her mother: "Let Madam go speak with Madam Shu. I'd like to see if Young Master Shu dares to spout nonsense again."

That only made her more depressed: "So that means I really am ugly?"

"No, no." The wet nurse hastily denied it, but Fu Tingjun had already burst into tears again on the bed: "If you go complain to Madam Shu, she'll punish Little Uncle Shu again, and then Little Uncle Shu will go around calling me 'ugly monster' again!"

These were all childish squabbles. Even if the wet nurse went to tell Fu Tingjun's mother, her mother wouldn't actually go complain to Madam Shu over such a trivial matter—especially since Madam Shu had already punished Shu Ming. If the Fu family showed any further displeasure, it would only make them seem petty and intolerant. The wet nurse had only said that to soothe Fu Tingjun's tears. Now that she saw the girl had painted herself into a corner, she could only say: "For a young lady of a distinguished family, modesty, prudence, composure, and dignity come first. As for being pretty..." The wet nurse thought for a long while, then said, "Which woman ever became the legitimate principal wife because she was pretty? Otherwise, why bother with the 'Three Obediences and Four Virtues' or learning 'needlework and embroidery'? Everyone might as well just compete over who's prettiest!"

Fu Tingjun thought of the beautiful concubines in her Fourth Uncle's household, and her crying gradually subsided.

The wet nurse sighed in relief and said gently, "Our young miss will one day be the mistress of a household, managing the inner affairs. What you should learn is from the Old Madam, from the First Madame, from Madam—virtue, kindness, chastity, and obedience..."

Fu Tingjun took this deeply to heart and devoted herself to the cultivation of womanly virtue, speech, appearance, and industry.

When her sisters studied various subjects together with their tutor, she was always very earnest. When her sisters played, she would laugh and joke along with them, but when she turned and was alone, she would always practice quietly. Over time, among all the sisters, she excelled at everything, standing out in every way. Her grandmother constantly praised her natural intelligence and took her along when visiting their aunt in Nanjing. It was there that she won the favor of Madam Yu and became betrothed to the Yu family, earning the envy of all her sisters... From then on, she was even more convinced that her wet nurse's words were right.

But now, Zhao Ling was saying "Sichuan brocade sells for fifteen taels of silver a bolt, and the capital has long stopped favoring blue-and-white patterns..."

Was he praising her?

Did he think she was beautiful?

Fu Tingjun lay in bed grinning foolishly.

He must have been praising her.

She thought of how he'd spoken of the flaky mooncakes.

"...I heard you made them. The filling is sweet without being cloying—even better than the pastries at Mingyue Tower!"

He had looked at her quietly, his gaze brighter than the bright moon in the sky, gentler, more tranquil, like faint ripples of water shimmering across his brow, drawing one into a reverie from which one never wished to wake.

She hadn't dared look at him for long and had lowered her head slightly.

At the memory, Fu Tingjun's cheeks flushed.

She knew Mingyue Tower—it was in Suzhou. Whenever anyone mentioned Jiangnan pastries, Mingyue Tower came to mind.

Or perhaps Zhao Ling was just comforting her?

Just like before, always finding a way to let her save face!

She could no longer lie still. She jumped out of bed and looked at herself in the mirror.

Skin as delicate as flower petals, eyes as bright as morning stars, lips as rosy as cinnabar...

Fu Tingjun's jade-white fingertips slowly traced from her cheek down to her chin, and she pressed her lips together in a smile.

The young woman in the mirror smiled back, like a hundred flowers blooming, radiant in an instant.

He must like it too, right?

With a snap, she turned the mirror face-down on its stand.

He was the first person to think she was beautiful.

If it had been anyone else, she naturally wouldn't have believed it. But Zhao Ling... would never lie to her, would never deceive her.

So in his heart, she truly was beautiful.

Fu Tingjun felt her face burning hot, and the joy in her heart was like seawater crashing against the cliff walls, wave after wave rising higher, making her heart sway with emotion, not knowing what to do. She closed her eyes and lay face down on the bed, burying her face in the quilt.

When she had been preparing her wedding dress, she had once taken a liking to a piece of fabric—a bright red brocade woven with gold thread throughout, patterned with honeysuckle, tuberose, peony, and rose... It was resplendent and dazzling, and she had loved it very much. But her mother had said the weave wasn't very good, and the embroidery was too gaudy, not dignified enough. Instead, she had chosen a sapphire-blue brocade woven with gold, patterned with peonies, chrysanthemums, orchids, and plum blossoms. It was pretty, certainly, but the pattern was too neat and orderly—not like that bright red brocade, which seemed to carry a coquettish charm that swept over you the moment you saw it.

Xi'an Prefecture should have that kind of bright red brocade woven with honeysuckle, tuberose, peony, and rose, shouldn't it?

She imagined what she would look like wearing such a garment.

Jet-black hair, snow-white skin, crimson lips set against the bright red gold-woven brocade—she would surely be dazzlingly beautiful!

Would Zhao Ling be struck dumb at the sight of her?

The more she thought about it, the better it seemed, and she secretly smiled beneath the quilt.

Tomorrow morning she would mention it to Zhao Ling, then go out with Madam Lyu to look around the streets—perhaps she could find the same fabric!

But as the thought turned, the smile froze on her face.

She... she was still in mourning!

How could she wear bright red clothing?

Fu Tingjun couldn't help but sit up.

As the saying goes, "For a woman to be alluring, she wears mourning white."

Unfortunately, she had never had much affinity for elegant colors like pale blue, lake green, or light cyan. Clothes in such colors, when worn on her, were not even as luminous as her own skin, and they made her black hair seem too dark, her lips too red—like ink splashed on plain silk, or vermilion dotted on white paper. The colors were too vivid, and instead stood out awkwardly.

She sighed, thinking of the memorial service she needed to hold for her uncle.

Since arriving in Xi'an Prefecture, one thing after another had come up, and she had completely forgotten about it. Although the idea of holding the memorial service for her uncle had been Zhao Ling's suggestion, he had been busy these days too—he needed to arrange everything before heading to the military camp, including matters concerning his properties. This was a matter of a hundred years' importance and could not be taken lightly, so she shouldn't disturb him. Perhaps tomorrow she could ask Madam Lyu to accompany her to Wenren Temple?

Fu Tingjun began to worry.

Apart from the gold and silver jewelry her mother had given her, all she had was those two thousand taels of silver notes. She had given the two thousand taels to Zhao Ling, and she absolutely couldn't bear to part with her mother's jewelry... So what money could she use to fund the memorial service for her uncle and aunt? If she had known this would happen, she shouldn't have given all the silver notes to Zhao Ling—she should have kept at least one or two hundred taels for emergencies.

So what was she to do tomorrow?

Surely she couldn't ask Zhao Ling to return the silver notes to her!

The thought arose, and Fu Tingjun felt both ashamed and embarrassed.

What kind of person would that make her?

What would Zhao Ling think of her?

What was she to do now?

All of Fu Tingjun's earlier joy was gone.

What to do?

What to do?

It was truly vexing...

She sighed heavily.

Apart from selling the jewelry her mother had given her, she really couldn't think of any other way.

Fu Tingjun tossed and turned all night, only closing her eyes as dawn broke. When she woke, the sun had already risen, and the time for breakfast was long past.

Zheng Sanniang was playing with Linchun in the main hall. Hearing the commotion, she hurried to fetch water.

Fu Tingjun hastily washed and dressed.

Madam Lyu came over, smiling. "Ninth Master said that last night Miss made an offering to the Moon Goddess in the courtyard, so we shouldn't come to disturb you this morning." She then had Luwei set out the morning meal.

Fu Tingjun tried her best to conceal her discomfort.

Last night, they had been chatting idly when Master Lyu and the others had returned.

She remembered how she had said in front of Madam Lyu and the others that she was tired and wanted to rest, and Madam Lyu had even personally attended to her washing before leaving. If they had seen her sitting in the courtyard chatting with Zhao Ling... how could she explain that to Madam Lyu and the others?

Zhao Ling had clearly been surprised too, saying, "How did they come back so quickly?"

Her heart had fluttered in panic, and she had thrown out the words "I don't know either, I'll head back to my room first" before hurrying away. Only a moment later did she remember that the teacups, teapot, and chairs in the courtyard hadn't been cleared away... If Madam Lyu and the others saw them, even if she hid in her room, they would surely guess what she and Zhao Ling had been doing. She quickly opened the door, and just happened to see Zhao Ling deftly moving the chairs and table into the side room. Watching his back, she felt he seemed a bit flustered too... Her heart stirred, and she quietly closed the door, opening a crack in the window to peer outside. The courtyard had already been tidied up, and Zhao Ling was walking out while responding, "Coming, coming"... Now it seemed that Madam Lyu and the others must have gotten up in the morning and discovered the incense and candles she had left in the courtyard from her offering to the Moon Goddess.

Fu Tingjun tried her best to appear nonchalant, letting out a soft "Oh" before lowering her head to continue her breakfast.

Madam Lyu sat nearby, carefully examining the winter coat that was nearly finished, and could not help but praise, "Miss's needlework is truly exquisite!"

Having been taught since childhood that "one should not speak while eating or sleeping," Fu Tingjun simply smiled in response. It was not until she had finished her breakfast and accepted the tea offered by Luwei that she finally spoke with a smile, "You flatter me too much!" She considered herself quite skilled at needlework and did not wish to belittle herself in words, so she smiled and changed the subject, "Has Ninth Master already gone out?"

"He went out early this morning," Madam Lyu said with a smile. "Not only did he bring Young Master Yang, Sanfu, Shizhu, and Zheng San, but even our old man went along with them."

Fu Tingjun was momentarily taken aback. Sounds came from the front courtyard, and just as she was about to call Zheng Sanniang to go out and check, Luwei came running in: "Madam, Zheng San, Sanfu, and Shizhu are escorting the master back, carrying a great deal of silver!"