Chapter 66

Fu Tingjun walked back to her room with light, brisk steps.

She called for Zheng Sanniang to help her pack.

The drinking had just ended not long ago, and everyone had only just settled down to sleep. Zheng Sanniang rubbed her bleary eyes. "Where is Miss going?" she asked, still half-dazed.

Fu Tingjun smiled. "We're going to Zhangye."

Zheng Sanniang jolted awake, all drowsiness gone in a flash. "To, to Zhangye? What are we going to Zhangye for?"

"Ninth Master is going to Zhangye, so naturally we'll be following along." Fu Tingjun's expression was calm as she instructed Zheng Sanniang, "Just help me pack away things like the teacups and vessels. I'll handle the clothes myself." With that, she sat down at the edge of the bed, sorting her clothes into categories while muttering under her breath, "If the daily necessities are lacking, I can buy them in Zhangye. If worst comes to worst, I can use Ninth Master's. It's the clothes that are the problem... I haven't prepared a single winter garment! If I'd known this would happen, I should have bought a few pieces when we went out today." At this point, she paused mid-motion and said, "The harvest has been poor, so cotton, hemp, gauze, and silk have all gone up in price. The Daxing Temple cost one hundred twenty taels, and with all the miscellaneous daily expenses, I only have about seventy-some taels left now—probably not even enough to buy a fur coat."

Thinking this, she reached under her pillow and pulled out a small cinnabar-lacquered box decorated with peony blossoms and fitted with a begonia-shaped bronze lock. She opened it to reveal three silver ingots of twenty-five taels each, plus a piece of loose silver.

"Let's just say seventy-five taels then!" Fu Tingjun muttered as she rose, saying to Zheng Sanniang, who was still staring blankly at the teacups and fruit platters filling the room, "I'm going to Ninth Master's place and I'll be back shortly. You should also tell Zheng San to start packing the things that need to be brought along." Then she left the room.

...

No lamp was lit in the room. Zhao Ling lay on the bed fully clothed.

Moonlight fell upon the window lattice papered with Korean paper, casting a pale, silvery glow.

He thought of the first time they met.

She had bright, large eyes, with pitch-black pupils so clear and limpid they seemed to reflect his own image.

Had she not let out that shout, he probably wouldn't have snapped back to his senses for a while longer.

She tumbled down beneath the tree, and without a word or a backward glance, she turned and ran.

At the time, he thought, this girl is truly clever and quick-witted. But he never killed women or children, and this girl would likely be no easy opponent.

Who would have thought that once he grabbed her by the throat and frightened her, she would submit, leading him to the kitchen.

Just as he was secretly congratulating himself, she shouted "Help!" at the top of her lungs.

Fearing that once she woke she would keep screaming and draw the temple nuns, he coldly seized her neck.

She fainted from fright.

He carried her to the back courtyard.

All the way, the summer sunlight fell upon her face—translucent as jade, fair as snow.

He actually felt a flicker of pity and set her down in a shaded spot.

Thinking of all this, a faint smile tugged at the corner of Zhao Ling's lips.

Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that one day, he would be tossed between hope and fear over this girl, unable to eat or sleep in peace.

At first, he had only found her troublesome.

It was merely a moment of soft-heartedness that made him decide to take her along the way to Weinan to seek refuge with her maternal uncle. But first they encountered Master Xie and his entire family meeting their tragic end, leaving her with nowhere to turn, so he had to bring her to Xi'an Prefecture. Then they ran into Feng Laosi, who had been hunting him everywhere without success. A fierce battle ensued, and though he killed Feng Laosi, the blood feud with the Feng Family was sealed from that moment on. Then they met Sixteenth Master—he would have avoided him if he could, but she stirred things up in the middle of it all, and he ended up boarding Sixteenth Master's pirate ship.

Zhao Ling let out a soft sigh, gazing at the bright white window lattice as he murmured to himself, "I wonder if when that day comes, I'll be able to get off this pirate ship safely and smoothly..."

Then he gave a bitter smile.

As for Mo Yi's side, it wasn't as if he had no way at all.

When she was at Biyun Nunnery, she was always thinking of how to seize any opportunity and never let go—she even dared to set her sights on him, a "bandit." When he was wounded and unconscious, she refused to let go even as she panted with exhaustion—a fragile woman, together with A Sen, a child of eight or nine, she somehow managed to stumble and stagger, pushing him all the way to the City God Temple. When faced with bandits, she would rather cut her own throat than live in disgrace... Her fierce, unyielding nature had left too deep an impression on him, making him involuntarily take a step back, involuntarily yield to her by a fraction.

He had thought it was merely pity for her ill-fated life, a gesture of magnanimity.

Even on the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival, when he was walking with Yang Yucheng and the others down the bustling street of Guangren Temple—bright with lanterns and fireworks, filled with the clamor of crowds, surrounded by brothers as close to him as his own limbs, all laughing and chatting in high spirits—the moment he thought of her alone in Willow Lane, his whole body felt as if it were covered in thorns, uncomfortable no matter what. In the end, he made up an excuse and returned to Willow Lane.

Under the moonlight, she spoke to him of her worries, and he listened quietly, racking his brains to comfort her with remarks like "Shu brocade has already sold for fifteen taels of silver a bolt, and blue-and-white porcelain is no longer in fashion in the capital," praising her mooncakes for being well made. That warm, intimate feeling, like "whispering secrets in the dead of night," unsettled him somewhat, yet more than that, it brought him a secret joy known only to himself.

It was not until she expressed concern that he might cooperate with Tang Daishan, and a phrase suddenly rose in his heart—"Then are you worried or not?"—that he was jolted awake, realizing he had gradually become different from his former self.

Whether it was her kindness when she asked him for A Sen, or her compassion in still being willing to aid Zheng Sanniang and her child despite all the hardships she had endured, or the goodwill of her claiming they were "betrothed," he could no longer recall what had changed him. He only knew that when he again caught her stealing glances at him with those bright, blinking eyes, his heart could no longer remain calm—it swung back and forth like a swing, never finding rest.

He began to feel a growing unease.

He would certainly marry one day, have children, and carry on the family line, but not at this time.

He still had many things to do; he did not even know what kind of ending awaited him, let alone whether he could provide a comfortable life for a wife and children. And given her temperament, unless she got to the bottom of that matter, how could she ever let it rest!

Two people whose fates were destined to diverge—why should they stir up the dust of attachment?

He decided to keep his distance from her.

To fulfill the promise he had once made to her as quickly as possible, so that he would owe her nothing more. Once she returned to her parents' side, he could gradually forget her.

Zhao Ling remembered clearly that when he made this decision, a sharp pain suddenly pierced his heart.

Fortunately, the chanting at Daxingshan Temple gradually pulled him out of that agony.

Just as he thought everything would improve, Jin Yuanbao returned.

He brought news that Madam Fu was heading to the capital.

Once again, things had changed.

Then Mo Yi came to visit and offered to help him settle her: "So you won't have to worry about two things at once." His gaze was sincere.

Zhao Ling was fully confident that this was one of Mo Yi's tactics to win him over, not a scheme to use her as a hostage.

In that instant, his heart could not help but stir restlessly.

He knew his own feelings for her—but what about her?

What did she truly think of him?

Now, Madam Fu was in the capital, no more than a month's journey away, while he was headed to Zhangye, a thousand li distant. Between her mother and him, which would she choose?

If she chose to stay in Xi'an, then he would take it as his own one-sided wish, and he would quietly compose himself and go to Zhangye without a trace of emotion.

But if she chose to go with him to Zhangye...

He thought with no small pride: Since she dares to entrust herself to him, would he be afraid?

Even if what lay ahead was a mountain of knives and a sea of fire, he would not betray her trust in him, and he would face it all with a clear conscience.

Like an obsession, once the thought arose, it could not be dispelled.

He knew she was eavesdropping outside the study, he knew Jin Yuanbao had seen through his thoughts and was fanning the flames, but he still deliberately brought up Mo Yi in vague terms, letting her misunderstand, letting her speculate... Yet when he saw her dejected look at the banquet, he regretted it.

Zhangye was too far.

It was a world apart from here.

Once she followed him to Zhangye, there would be no turning back.

What if she could not adapt to life there?

He could not be so selfish, thinking only of himself and not of her.

With these thoughts, Zhao Ling pillowed his head on his arms and stared blankly into space.

He needed to find a way to explain things to her.

Otherwise, she might return to her parents with a knot in her heart.

There was a sound outside the door.

He could not help but listen closely.

It was A Sen's voice, cheerful and bright: "Miss Fu, why have you come? Are you here to see Ninth Master?"

Zhao Ling's heart tightened at the sound.

"Yes!" Fu Tingjun laughed. "Would you go and announce me?"

A Sen quickly fastened his sash and happily pushed open Zhao Ling's door: "Ninth Master, Miss Fu is here to see you?"

For some reason, Zhao Ling deliberately paused in silence for a moment before making a lazy "Oh" sound, as if he had just been woken: "I'll be up in a moment."

A Sen moved to come in and attend to him.

"No need!" Zhao Ling did not want A Sen to see him in his current state. "Go keep Miss Fu company!" Fearing A Sen might insist on coming in, he added, "Bring Miss Fu a chair and serve her some tea."

A Sen acknowledged and went off.

Zhao Ling dawdled inside for a while before stepping out of the door.

Fu Tingjun stood in the courtyard holding a cup of tea, chatting with A Sen.

Her brows and eyes were full of smiles, gentle as water under the moonlight.

Hearing the sound, she looked over.

Her gaze rippled like water, carrying a dazzling, breathtaking beauty.

"Ninth Master!" She smiled and walked toward him.

Zhao Ling had a vague feeling that something was about to happen, and it was most likely related to Mo Yi's words. Seeing Fu Tingjun, he felt a strange apprehension, like a homesick traveler approaching his village—wanting to guess but afraid to, his heart pounding like a drum.

"Miss Fu!" He smiled warmly, trying his best to appear composed. "It's so late. Is there something you need from me?"

Fu Tingjun's face lit up with a radiant smile. "Do we have any silver left in the house?"

"Ah!" Zhao Ling stared blankly at Fu Tingjun, his smile frozen on his face.

His expression delighted Fu Tingjun.

Her smile grew even wider, and a hint of mischief even flickered in her eyes. "I want to buy some things early tomorrow morning, but I don't have quite enough silver on hand..."

Zhao Ling snapped back to his senses and quickly said, "Yes, yes, we do. Since there's no silver shop in Zhangye, we had Yucheng exchange some silver earlier." He then asked, "Would two hundred taels be enough?"

Two hundred taels of silver was enough to sustain Madam Lyu and her husband for five years.

Fu Tingjun's expression turned somewhat troubled.

Zhao Ling broke into a sweat. "Then I'll have Yucheng go to the Baoqing Silver Shop first thing tomorrow morning to exchange some more."

The Baoqing Silver Shop only began exchanging silver notes of two thousand taels or more.

Just how much money did this fellow have?

Fu Tingjun muttered to herself, but kept her composure and reluctantly nodded. "That works. I was thinking two thousand taels should be enough!"

Zhao Ling was stunned.

Two thousand taels of silver was enough to buy all the thousand-plus mu of land in East Jiang Village.

What did she need so much silver for?

Could she have been swindled while out on the streets today?

"How about I have Master Lyu accompany you tomorrow?" he quickly suggested. "He knows the area well and can help run errands if anything comes up."