Chapter 78

Madam Qi lived next door to Fu Tingjun. Her husband served as a registrar in the general's headquarters storehouse—a position that, while low-ranking, was a lucrative sinecure. Perhaps that was why Madam Qi was plump and fair, resembling a smiling Maitreya Buddha.

She entered with a beaming smile and took Fu Tingjun's hand: "You went to so much trouble, sending us New Year's gifts specially." With that, she winked at Fu Tingjun. "A couple of days ago, someone sent our household head a basket of carrots. I've brought some over for you to try."

Fu Tingjun barely suppressed a laugh.

No doubt these carrots were another tribute to Registrar Qi.

She thanked Madam Qi while inviting her to sit in the main hall.

Zheng Sanniang served tea.

Madam Qi took a sip and immediately widened her eyes: "My goodness, this is fine Biluochun—must cost a dozen or so taels of silver per catty, wouldn't it?"

This was purchased last time in Yongjing.

Fu Tingjun said modestly, "As long as Madam Qi enjoys it."

"Enjoy it, enjoy it!" Madam Qi's small eyes darted about.

Fu Tingjun understood at once and promptly instructed Zheng Sanniang: "Wrap up a catty of this tea for Madam Qi."

"I couldn't possibly, I couldn't possibly." Madam Qi declined repeatedly, while Fu Tingjun simply smiled without a word.

Truth be told, there were matters for which she had to thank this Madam Qi.

Just a few days after Zhao Ling left, Madam Qi had arrived bearing several boxes of pastries.

She first squinted her small eyes and surveyed the residence from front to back, then, as she did today, took Fu Tingjun's hand and spoke in the main hall: "I hear your family came from the capital?"

Fu Tingjun was momentarily taken aback.

Who asks about others' affairs so bluntly?

Though displeased, she replied politely, "No, I'm from Pingliang County."

Madam Qi's face showed disappointment, and she said, "Then why did the Marquis of Yingchuan personally have the clerk lead Master Zhao to register?"

Fu Tingjun suddenly understood.

So this woman had come to probe their background.

Asking so directly showed she assumed Fu Tingjun was young and naive.

The question was whether she came at Registrar Qi's bidding, or merely because she delighted in gossip and spreading rumors.

At this thought, Fu Tingjun felt a chill of wariness.

If the Qis were merely curious, that was one thing—but what if Registrar Qi himself had been sent by someone else to investigate?

Her mind raced.

Her grandmother had once told her that when examining matters, one must see both the bad and the good. Since someone wanted to hear about their affairs, she might as well "tell the truth."

With that thought, a mischievous impulse rose within her.

"We have relatives in the capital," Fu Tingjun said with deliberate vagueness. "That's why the Marquis of Yingchuan had the clerk lead Ninth Master to register."

Her parents were in the capital—that wasn't exactly a lie, was it?

"Really?" Madam Qi perked up. "And what do your relatives in the capital do?"

Fu Tingjun replied, "Some served as prefects in the provinces, others as lecturers in the Hanlin Academy. It depends on which relative Madam Qi is asking about."

Madam Qi's eyes lit up at this. "Then how did you come to Zhangye? I heard you two are betrothed but not yet married. Following him here like this—don't your family members care? Why not settle the formalities first?"

Fu Tingjun flushed crimson with embarrassment, but she had to answer. Otherwise, by tomorrow rumors would be flying everywhere. And she couldn't use the same explanation she'd given Sixteenth Master here, so she improvised: "Our family encountered refugees, and Ninth Master was in a hurry to register at the general's headquarters, so he had to bring me along. In a few days, he'll send me to the capital."

Madam Qi glanced at the small white flower at her temple and nodded in sudden understanding.

But Fu Tingjun thought to herself: I can't have you come into my home and look everything over while I know nothing about you. That wouldn't be fair!

"Madam Qi, where are you from originally?" she asked, gazing at her with clear eyes. "Your skin is so fair and smooth—you don't look like someone from Zhangye."

This sent Madam Qi into raptures. Within the time it took to drink a cup of tea, Fu Tingjun had learned everything: Madam Qi was a distant cousin of the official Chen who guarded Zhenfan, and it was only through the recommendation of Assistant General Hu that Registrar Qi had secured his post in the storehouse.

Because the two women hit it off so well, Madam Qi practically regarded Fu Tingjun as a kindred spirit and came to visit at every opportunity.

Occasionally, when she arrived while Fu Tingjun was teaching A Sen to read, Fu Tingjun would ask Madam Qi to wait. When she emerged, she would say apologetically, "I couldn't very well stop in the middle of a lesson and leave it unfinished. I hope Madam Qi will forgive the wait."

Madam Qi's expression shifted oddly: "So the young lady can read and write!"

Fu Tingjun said modestly, "I only go over the Thousand Family Verses. Anything beyond that is beyond my ability."

Madam Qi regarded her with greater wariness after that.

Only then did Fu Tingjun breathe a sigh of relief. She sent Zheng San out to make inquiries—was anyone in the neighborhood talking about their affairs, and if so, what were they saying?

Zheng San returned with a smile.

"People outside are all saying that our family has connections at court, and that Ninth Master's trip to Zhuanglang Guard is merely to accumulate military merit for promotion. They also say our family didn't spend a single coin leasing this residence—that it was a gift from that Assistant Commander of Xining Guard to curry favor with Ninth Master. They say you come from a distinguished family, not only dignified and virtuous, skilled in needlework and embroidery, but also accomplished in poetry, chess, calligraphy, and painting, and well-versed in eight-legged essays."

Fu Tingjun broke out in a cold sweat, witnessing firsthand the power of rumors.

Before Madam Qi could finish her cup of tea, Zheng Sanniang had already delivered the tea leaves. Madam Qi no longer declined; she accepted them with a smile, exchanged a few pleasantries, and then rose to take her leave.

Fu Tingjun saw Madam Qi to the door.

A carriage sped past the entrance, splashing slush onto Madam Qi's skirt.

Madam Qi trembled with rage and immediately pointed at the carriage: "What blind fool is that, rushing off to a funeral!"

With the New Year approaching, those words were rather harsh.

The carriage curtain was immediately lifted, revealing a pretty face that could charm or anger at will: "Who is it? Spouting such filth!"

The two parties came face to face.

Then both were stunned.

Inside the carriage sat Xuemei, the personal maidservant of Madam Lu, concubine of Mo Yi.

Not long after Madam Qi had visited Fu Tingjun, Madam Lu had come calling, and the one attending her closely had been this very Xuemei.

She had stared at Fu Tingjun without blinking back then, leaving Fu Tingjun bewildered and deeply impressed.

"So it's Miss Fu." Xuemei, helped down from the carriage by an old woman attendant, bent her knees in a slight bow toward Fu Tingjun. "I didn't know you were here, miss. My earlier rudeness—please don't take it to heart." Her tone and posture were soft and deferential, yet she didn't spare Madam Qi a single glance.

Madam Qi's face turned green with anger.

Xuemei merely smiled and made small talk with Fu Tingjun: "When I left just now, the concubine was still mentioning the rice cakes you sent—white as frost, neither sticky nor greasy, absolutely delicious. She also asked me to see when you might have free time to teach me how to make them, so I can whip up a batch whenever I get a craving."

Among Fu Tingjun's New Year gifts were ten catties of rice cakes.

But those rice cakes had been bought from the street, not made by her.

Yet given the current situation, it wouldn't be wise to tell the truth.

She murmured a vague acknowledgment. Xuemei said that since the New Year was approaching, she imagined Fu Tingjun would be busy and would visit another day, then swept away.

Madam Qi's plump body trembled with fury. It took her a long moment before she clenched her teeth and spat a disdainful "pah!" "What concubine?" she said harshly. "They only hosted two tables of wine in Zhangye. Whether she can even step through the Mo family's door depends on whether Madam Mo nods and whether the old mistress of the Mo family shows mercy. Don't let her miss her step and end up without even a title to fight for."

This was the first time Fu Tingjun had heard such a thing. She was quietly surprised and even less inclined to gossip about others. Smiling, she asked Madam Qi if she was all right, and whether she'd like to change her skirt in her room before heading home.

Only then did Madam Qi's expression improve slightly. She thanked Fu Tingjun and returned to her own home.

Fu Tingjun shook her head and went back inside.

A messenger arrived from Madam Wang's household with an invitation.

"On the fifth, our mistress is hosting a spring gathering," said Madam Wang's personal attendant, whom Fu Tingjun was meeting for the first time. Previously, Fu Tingjun had sent New Year gifts to the Wang family, and they had reciprocated according to custom. "She hopes you'll come and join the festivities."

Fu Tingjun accepted the invitation: "Please thank your mistress for me. However, I am still in mourning, so I must ask for her forgiveness. Once I've completed the mourning period, I will personally go and express my gratitude."

Madam Wang's attendant did not press the matter, smiling and saying things like "Our mistress was remiss" before taking her leave.

Fu Tingjun instructed Zheng Sanniang to see her out.

Zheng Sanniang was naturally quick-witted, and Zheng San was worldly-wise; with Fu Tingjun's careful instruction, she had quickly learned everyday etiquette.

As she accompanied Madam Wang's attendant out of the hall, she produced an embroidered pouch from her sleeve and offered it with a smile: "You've worked hard, ma'am. This is a little something for your tea!"

Madam Wang's attendant smiled her thanks and accepted it graciously, then boarded her carriage and left the back street.

Fu Tingjun soon put the matter out of her mind. Together with Zheng Sanniang and the others, she made offerings to the earth god and swept the courtyard. Since she didn't know the situation at Zhao Ling's home, and being a woman, it wasn't appropriate for her to arrange ancestral rites, she hung up images of the various deities she'd obtained from the temple in the central hall, bought an imitation bronze tripod and a basket of thick incense sticks, preparing to worship the gods on New Year's Eve. She also bought twelve large red lanterns to hang at the gate and under the eaves.

A Sen came bounding in joyfully: "Miss, miss! Ninth Master is back!"

"Really!" Fu Tingjun was overjoyed. She dropped the half-finished window decoration she was pasting and ran outside.

Someone was leading a horse through the gate.

Tall stature, upright bearing, steady stride... Fu Tingjun suddenly felt a touch of fear. Her steps slowed, and she came to a stop in the middle of the courtyard.

His clear, bright eyes fixed steadily upon her.

"I'm back!" he said softly, a smile spilling from the depths of his eyes, lighting up his face.

Fu Tingjun looked Zhao Ling up and down.

He wore a dark woolen robe, draped with a sapphire-blue cotton cloak, black leather boots on his feet, and a riding whip in his hand. His complexion was ruddy, his spirits high—like a noble young master returning from a hunt, with not a trace of his former self.

Suddenly, Fu Tingjun's eyes stung and her nose tingled.

This bastard—while she had been worrying about him day and night at home, he had been eating well, dressing well, and with a flippant "I'm back," he thought he could erase all those days of anxiety she had endured...

She couldn't help but bite her lip tightly, and said coolly, "So Ninth Master has returned," then instructed A Sen, "Quick, take the master's horse to the stable!"

Her voice was calm and composed.

Zhao Ling looked bewildered, standing frozen in place.