Chapter 77

Officials with rank were provided lodging by the government.

Mo Yi did not reside in the General's Mansion or the library, but instead rented a small courtyard house in an alley behind the General's Mansion, where he housed his concubine, Madam Lu. It was there that he hosted Zhao Ling for a return banquet. Zhao Ling noticed that the location was tranquil despite being in a bustling area, and since most of the residents were families of the General's Mansion's clerks and constables, no riffraff dared linger nearby—this caught his interest. When Mo Yi learned of this, he was naturally pleased to help and enthusiastically assisted Zhao Ling in renting the adjacent siheyuan: "...Living closer, we can look out for each other if anything happens. I'll also put in a good word at the General's Mansion, so you can rest easy and head to Zhuanglang Wei."

Zhao Ling smiled and thanked Mo Yi, then called on Tao Mu and Lin Chi to share a round of drinks at Xiqin Tower as a token of gratitude. In the afternoon, he brought Fu Tingjun to see the house.

The residence was modest, with tall, sturdy stone walls enclosing the courtyard. It had three main rooms, two side rooms on the left and right, and a stable in the reverse-facing building. The furniture—tables, chairs, and the like—was all ready-made, and the place was swept clean and neatly arranged.

Fu Tingjun was quite satisfied.

"This was originally the residence of the General's Mansion's secretary," Zhao Ling said with a smile as he walked her out. "He was later transferred to Xining Wei as an assistant judge, so the place was left vacant. When Mo Yi learned I wanted to buy a house here, he specially sent someone to Xining Wei to arrange it."

"General Mo has gone to great trouble," Fu Tingjun said with a smile. "Ninth Master should properly thank General Mo."

"Of course," Zhao Ling replied with a grin. "If you see anything that needs repair or want to add anything to the house, just tell Zheng San, and he'll go to Mo Yi..."

As they spoke, they stepped out of the residence. Zheng Sanniang came forward to help Fu Tingjun into the carriage, but out of the corner of her eye, she noticed someone hiding behind the door of the neighboring house, peeking in their direction. She quietly took note of it and reported it to Fu Tingjun after they returned.

"Was it the house on the left or the right?" Fu Tingjun asked.

The house on the left belonged to Mo Yi, while the one on the right was occupied by a family surnamed Qi, whose husband worked as a clerk in the General's Mansion's storeroom.

Zheng Sanniang recalled: "It was the house on the left."

So it was someone from Mo Yi's household spying on them!

Fu Tingjun found it strange, but since she had never met the person and didn't know their intentions, she could only keep it in mind. Afraid that Zheng Sanniang might overthink it, and thinking that since they would all be neighbors, it was better to avoid unnecessary trouble, she said with a smile, "Perhaps they're just curious because we're moving in."

Still, such spying was hardly proper.

Zheng Sanniang couldn't help muttering: "Didn't they say General Mo comes from a distinguished family? This concubine of his is so petty! She has none of the air of a great household—she's just like those gossiping women in our village..."

"Alright," Fu Tingjun said with a smile, cutting off Zheng Sanniang's complaints, "hurry and pack up. Ninth Master said we'll move over first thing tomorrow morning." She added, "Once Ninth Master has us settled, he can set off for Zhuanglang Wei."

Zheng Sanniang smiled sheepishly, and as she helped pack Fu Tingjun's belongings into trunks, she asked, "Is A Sen staying with us in Zhangye or going with Ninth Master to Zhuanglang Wei?"

A Sen had lost both parents early, and Zheng Sanniang, who had recently become a mother herself, felt great sympathy for him and treated him like a nephew.

"He's staying with us in Zhangye," Fu Tingjun said with a smile as she placed the Thousand Poems into the trunk. "Ninth Master is going to take up his post—he can't very well bring a servant boy along, can he? Besides, if A Sen stays with us, he can learn some characters. Maybe he can even attend a private school."

All pursuits are base, but the study of books is noble.

Zheng Sanniang nodded repeatedly at that.

Since Fu Tingjun didn't have many belongings, and they still needed to hurry to Zhuanglang Wei, they only took out some changes of clothes, and the trunks were quickly packed.

Zhao Ling walked in carrying a red-lacquered, gold-painted box.

"I have something to discuss with Miss Fu," he said, dismissing Zheng Sanniang. "You may go."

Zheng Sanniang quickly curtsied and withdrew.

Fu Tingjun invited Zhao Ling to sit on the kang, brewed tea, and served it, then said in a clear voice, "What business does Ninth Master have with me?"

Zhao Ling opened the box, revealing a carved red-lacquer case inside.

The bright red case was carved with a shepherd boy playing a flute—exquisite workmanship, lifelike in detail, clearly no ordinary item.

Zhao Ling handed the carved red-lacquer case to Fu Tingjun: "The deeds to three shops on Baoqing Street, over seventeen hundred mu of land in Chang'an County, and a five-thousand-tael bank draft from Baoqing Tower—they're all in here. Keep them safe..."

Fu Tingjun was stunned.

This was all of Zhao Ling's wealth!

For her to keep it—what was that supposed to mean?

"No, no, no, I can't accept this," she refused repeatedly, her expression flustered. "This is what you earned through hard work..."

"When I get to Zhuanglang Wei, I'll be living in the garrison," Zhao Ling interrupted her without room for argument. "Where would I put these things? You keep them for me, and when I need them, I'll come to you to get them."

That made sense.

But somehow, it felt strange in her heart.

Fu Tingjun still harbored a trace of hesitation, but seeing Zhao Ling's solemn expression and clear, bright eyes, she felt she was overthinking things.

"Very well!" She gritted her teeth. "I'll temporarily keep it safe for Ninth Master!"

Hearing this, Zhao Ling's expression relaxed slightly. He gave a few more instructions about trivial matters, then smiled and rose to take his leave.

Fu Tingjun counted the gold, silver, and valuables in the room, calculating their monthly expenses in Zhangye, and did not rest until the hour of Hai.

The next day, just as dawn was breaking, they took a carriage to the house on the back street.

Fu Tingjun took the east room of the main hall, while the west room held some of Zhao Ling's belongings. The east wing was made into guest rooms—one for A Sen, and one for storing the things of Yang Yucheng, Jin Yuanbao, and the others. The west wing had one room converted into a kitchen and one for Zheng San and his wife. The carriage and the large goods cart were placed in the inverted seat area, and Zhao Ling also left them a horse.

A Sen rolled around excitedly on the heated brick bed. "This is my room, this is my room!" His antics made Fu Tingjun, who was arranging the main hall together with Zheng Sanniang, laugh. She asked him, "Aren't you afraid sleeping alone?"

"Not afraid!" A Sen's face was flushed with joy. "If I want to sleep at the head of the bed, I sleep at the head; if I want to sleep at the foot, I sleep at the foot!" Even Zhao Ling couldn't help but smile, lightly patting him on the head. "Did you sleep on the ground before?"

A Sen chuckled sheepishly.

Yang Yucheng walked over and gave him a kick on the backside. "When I come back, you won't be sleeping alone anymore!"

He had already come to think of this place as his own home.

Fu Tingjun felt a warmth spread through her heart at the sound of it.

A Sen scurried into the main hall, hid behind Fu Tingjun, and poked his little head out to retort at Yang Yucheng: "Anyway, most of the time I'll be sleeping alone."

Everyone burst into laughter. They cheerfully finished tidying up the rooms, hastily wolfing down a few flatbreads bought from the street for lunch. In the afternoon, they set up the ancestral shrine and paid respects to the gods. Fu Tingjun personally cooked—stir-frying, deep-frying, and simmering—preparing four cold dishes, four hot dishes, eight main dishes, and a lamb hotpot. She also sent Zheng San to the corner grocery store to buy a few catties of sorghum liquor. Everyone gathered around the table and enjoyed a lively meal that lasted until the beginning of the hour of Hai.

Zheng San and his wife, along with A Sen, cleaned up the aftermath. Fu Tingjun washed her hands with fragrant soap and sat before the dressing mirror applying cream, mentally noting that she should have Zheng San make another trip to the street—the main hall lacked a central scroll, and the long table looked bare. Perhaps she should buy a pair of plum vases or flower beakers to decorate it...

Someone knocked "thump, thump, thump" on the doorframe of her inner chamber.

She looked up and saw Zhao Ling leaning against the doorframe.

Perhaps it was the effect of the wine—his face was slightly flushed, and his bright eyes held a faint smile, like the warm waters of a river in March, amiable and easygoing, filling the air with a thick sense of spring.

"All done cleaning up." He smiled and walked slowly toward her, his voice a little hoarse, his gaze warm and kind. "I'll set out at the hour of Mao tomorrow." His tone paused, and the look in his eyes as he regarded her gradually deepened. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something but held back.

For some reason, under his gaze, Fu Tingjun felt no sorrow at parting—only the nervousness brought on by his closeness.

"R-really?" Her voice was unsteady. "Then, then take care on your journey!"

Zhao Ling stopped in his tracks. Without a word, he stood there quietly gazing at her.

It felt as though ten thousand lanterns were shining down on her head. Fu Tingjun felt a shyness and unease that left her nowhere to hide.

She had just come back from the kitchen and hadn't bathed yet—she still smelled of cooking oil smoke. He must be able to smell it too! And her hair—she had wrapped it in a cloth earlier, and when she returned to the room, she casually pulled the cloth off and tossed it onto the dressing table. Her hair was now a complete mess... If only she had known, she would have washed up first before coming back.

Fu Tingjun was filled with regret, and a flush of red slowly crept across her face.

They stood in silence facing each other, the room utterly still, with only the faint sound of A Sen's laughter in the distance.

Zhao Ling said in a low voice, "Whenever I have a free moment, I'll come back to see you!"

Fu Tingjun pressed her lips together and looked at Zhao Ling, her heart pounding wildly.

...

Holding her wrist suspended in the air, she set brush to paper, and elegant, delicate calligraphy characters fell one by one onto the pale yellow rice paper: "...Two jars of vinegar, two hundred eighty wen; two jars of soy sauce, three hundred ten wen; ten catties of pepper, one thousand two hundred wen. Total..."

Fu Tingjun set down her brush and slowly worked the abacus.

Before she knew it, it was already the twenty-second day of the twelfth month. She and Zheng San and his wife had been busy preparing New Year goods.

Fortunately, she had assisted Eldest Aunt in managing household affairs back home, and now the household was only three adults and two children, so everything was kept in good order without any mishaps.

Tomorrow they would be offering sacrifices to the Kitchen God. She wondered how they were faring in Zhuanglang Wei—were they doing well? Would they come back for the New Year? Was there anything they needed sent over?

With such thoughts, her hand, which had been flicking the abacus beads, came to a stop.

"Whenever I have a free moment, I'll come back to see you..." His low, gentle voice echoed in her ears once more.

She couldn't help but bite her red lips.

Liar!

She had promised to come back to visit her as soon as she had time, but since sending a letter of safety at the beginning of the month, there had been no news at all. Her letters went unanswered, leaving her worried day and night, unable to sleep well.

At the thought of this, she grew restless and irritably flicked the beads of the abacus.

The clattering sound of the wooden beads jolted Fu Tingjun back to her senses.

Oh no, she would have to recalculate the accounts, and she was not even skilled at using the abacus.

Fu Tingjun let out a soft sigh and flipped the ledger back to the first page.

That man, even if he had not taken this matter to heart, he should at least have come up with a plan for the New Year gifts for the Marquis of Yingchuan and the others.

If it were not for waiting on his news, why would she have hastily sent Zheng San to deliver the New Year gifts just two days ago?

Fortunately, Zheng San was a capable man. After quietly slipping some silver to the stewards of several households, they agreed to put in a good word for her before their masters. Otherwise, she would have been frantic with worry.

Lost in these thoughts, Fu Tingjun's mind began to wander again.

Zheng Sanniang walked in: "Miss, Madam Qi has arrived!"