Chapter 82

Madam Wang noticed Fu Tingjun's face had turned pale and cold sweat was beading on her forehead. Thinking that she was just a young girl with no elder around to offer guidance, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity, and softened her tone: "Though it is said that a woman's virtue lies in gentleness, one must also know propriety and distinguish right from wrong. One cannot simply endure everything for the sake of peace, only to end up ruining one's reputation. I can see you are a sensible child, which is why I set aside the fact that our acquaintance is still shallow to speak these words from the heart. If you think my words carry some reason, do consider them carefully; if you feel I don't know the full circumstances and have spoken too harshly, then treat it as an elder's nagging—listen and let it pass..."

"No, no, no," Fu Tingjun said hastily. "Every word you've spoken, Madam, is like pearls of wisdom that awaken the deaf and enlighten the blind. It is I who was foolish and acted rashly." With that, she rose and made a deep bow to Madam Wang. "Thank you, Madam, for your instruction. Your great kindness shall never be forgotten!" Her attitude was respectful, her tone sincere.

Madam Wang could not help but nod slightly, her voice growing even gentler: "You are young and have seen little of the world. You don't yet know the danger of 'three men make a tiger'—that repeated rumors can be believed as truth. It's not your fault. Just be more cautious and careful in your actions from now on." She added, "I've heard that Banner-bearer Zhao's parents are also no longer with us. In your household, you must establish rules and regulations for everything. You must understand that managing a home is a long-term endeavor—whether children can be diligent in farming and study, whether the family fortune can prosper, how much a man serving as an official outside can accomplish—all depends on whether the household affairs are properly managed. You must always remain humble and frugal, and your blessings will endure. This is the true way of lasting harmony and prosperity."

Fu Tingjun felt a surge of respect and awe. She respectfully acknowledged the advice and offered tea to Madam Wang with both hands.

A gratified smile appeared in Madam Wang's eyes. She then instructed Fu Tingjun: "Madam Qi is fond of talking. Keep her at a distance and she'll complain; draw her close and she'll become tiresome. You must handle her as you see fit. As for Madam Lu..." She paused thoughtfully, "It's best to have little to do with her."

Fu Tingjun acknowledged each piece of advice.

Madam Wang then spoke at length about household management.

To be fair, what Madam Wang said was nothing more than what Fu Tingjun had learned at home. But what she had learned at home was written in books of women's instructions—she had memorized them well but couldn't always connect them to real situations. After hearing Madam Wang's words and reflecting back, she gained new insights. She felt genuine gratitude toward Madam Wang and listened with the attentiveness of a disciple. She then personally went to the kitchen, hosted Madam Wang for a meal, and escorted her all the way to the front gate before returning.

From that day on, Fu Tingjun kept Madam Wang's words firmly in mind. When Madam Qi and Madam Lu came to visit, she would use the excuse of needing to rush making spring clothes for Zhao Ling, seating them in the main hall while she never set down her needlework, responding to whatever they said with only vague murmurs, quite absent-minded. Madam Qi gradually found it dull and came less frequently. As for Madam Lu, though she had her complaints, she couldn't very well fault Fu Tingjun for doing needlework for Zhao Ling, and could only wait until Fu Tingjun finished this busy period.

The household settled into a period of peace.

Fu Tingjun breathed a sigh of relief. The courtyard gate remained tightly shut. Every morning, besides teaching A Sen to read and write, she worked on spring clothes for Zhao Ling.

In the blink of an eye, it was mid-March. Zheng San suggested planting two trees in the courtyard, and Fu Tingjun thought it a good idea. But only a few days after the trees were planted, dark clouds pressed down from above, and a whirlwind swept through Zhangye like a spinning top, lifting even sheep and livestock into the air. Some families even lost their children, and wailing filled the city.

Fortunately, most of the buildings on Fu Tingjun's side were sturdy, and the experienced servants next door shouted loudly things like "Everyone get inside!" "Lead the horses into the house!" "Close the doors quickly!" Zheng San, having weathered many storms and being quick-witted, helped secure their belongings. Apart from the two trees and the wooden hobby horse Linchun had forgotten in the courtyard, they suffered no other losses.

Linchun couldn't find his hobby horse and burst into loud sobs.

Zheng San, who was tidying up the messy courtyard, gently patted the little boy's head: "Be glad you're alive! And you're still crying!"

The little one could already walk well on his own. Looking aggrieved, he clung tightly to A Sen's leg and wouldn't let go.

Everyone burst into laughter, which dispelled some of the fear left by the tornado.

Madam Wang quickly sent someone to check on them. Seeing that Fu Tingjun's household was already in order, Madam Wang's personal attendant couldn't stop praising Fu Tingjun for her excellent household management, which made Fu Tingjun quite embarrassed. She kept saying, "It was all thanks to Zheng San and his wife's quick thinking."

The attendant waved this off dismissively and said with a smile, "That's only because you, miss, maintain strict discipline in your household affairs."

Fu Tingjun had no choice but to be modest for a while longer. Since the attendant still needed to return and report to Madam Wang, Fu Tingjun didn't keep her long. She had Zheng Sanniang give the attendant a few bits of silver as a reward, then saw her out.

A few days later, a military officer in his thirties, dressed in a red padded uniform, came to call.

"I am Zhao Ming, in charge of farmland cultivation under Zhuanglang Guard. Since I share the same surname as Banner-bearer Zhao, we've become like brothers," he said with a smile. "Brother Zhao heard about the black wind that struck Zhangye. Since I was coming to the Commander-in-Chief's office to report on the farmland matters, Brother Zhao specifically asked me to come check on how things are at home."

His brow carried a hint of worldliness as he shrewdly surveyed the furnishings of the hall.

Zheng Sanniang emerged from the inner quarters, smiling as she greeted Zhao Ming with a bow, and relayed Fu Tingjun's words: "Banner-bearer Zhao has worked hard. Please convey to our master that all is well at home, and there is no need for concern." She added, "Our master is away, and the young lady is but a woman, so we must trouble you, Banner-bearer Zhao, to take a modest cup of wine alone in the side chamber as a token of our gratitude!"

"No need, no need!" Zhao Ming hurriedly replied with a smile. "I still have matters to attend to and cannot stay long. When Brother Zhao returns one day, I shall come and impose upon you again!" He earnestly declined and made to leave.

Under such circumstances, it was not appropriate to press him to stay. After exchanging a few polite words, Zheng San carried the prepared local gifts—air-dried chicken and duck—and saw Zhao Ming out the door.

The next morning, Madam Lu came over. After dismissing Xuemei and Zheng Sanniang, she spoke privately with Fu Tingjun: "Yesterday my elder brother came to Zhangye. From what he told me, the Mongols have invaded, and Guide Station, Zhenhai Fort, and Fuqiang Fort have all fallen. The Marquis has ordered Assistant Commander Hu, who guards Xining Guard, and Assistant Commander Wang, who guards Zhuanglang Guard, to rush to Xining Guard. It is highly likely that Zhuanglang Guard will also be sending reinforcements." A look of worry crossed her face. "There will be war again!"

Fu Tingjun was startled by this. "Is that true?" Why had that farmlands steward named Zhao Ming not mentioned a single word of it yesterday? She recalled that both Zhenhai Fort and Fuqiang Fort fell under the jurisdiction of Xining Guard, and clinging to a sliver of hope, she hesitated and said, "Isn't Niambo Station the closest to Xining Guard? If reinforcements are needed, shouldn't Niambo Station be the first to go?"

"You don't understand," Madam Lu said, a hint of pride showing on her face. "That Qianhu Wu Ying of Niambo Station is an incompetent man. He only became Qianhu because of his elder brother, who died in battle at Jiayuguan. When it comes to fighting, he's useless. So they had no choice but to send my brother as reinforcement."

That meant Zhao Ling would also have a chance to go to the battlefield!

Fu Tingjun was both shocked and delighted. Shocked because the battlefield was too dangerous—just thinking about it made her worry for Zhao Ling. Delighted because military merit had always been the foremost path to advancement. If Zhao Ling had the opportunity to go to battle, he might earn military distinction, and then he could be promoted, and they could leave the military camp sooner.

"Will everyone be going to Xining Guard?" she asked Madam Lu.

Madam Lu smiled. "That I wouldn't know! However, I could speak to my brother and have Banner-bearer Zhao go along to Xining Guard!" As she spoke, her gaze flickered as she looked at Fu Tingjun.

Being able to go to Xining Guard meant being able to fight; being able to fight meant being able to be promoted!

She was a very perceptive person. Otherwise, Mo Yi would not have wanted to bring her back for his grandmother's birthday, nor would he have set aside Fu Tingjun for her sake. She had long since noticed Fu Tingjun's coldness toward her.

Even before she had met Fu Tingjun, she had heard Mo Yi speak of her.

In Mo Yi's words, this Miss Fu was good at this and good at that, and he even asked her to learn proper conduct from the young lady. She had originally thought that this Miss Fu, so highly praised by Mo Yi, was a rigid and straitlaced person. To her surprise, she was bright and cheerful in temperament, approachable and likable. What made her even more uncomfortable was that Miss Fu's beauty was second to none—not just in Zhangye, but likely among all seventeen guards under the Gansu Regional Military Commission.

Mo Yi was a man who looked down on the world, yet he had so eagerly helped the Zhao family find a residence... So whenever she saw Fu Tingjun's smiling face, she felt a knot in her heart. Especially since this Miss Fu had lost both parents, her family had fallen into decline, and her fiancé Zhao Ling was merely a banner-bearer who relied on her brother to accumulate military merit... Yet Fu Tingjun accepted her attentions with such ease. She very much wanted to find an opportunity to admonish this Miss Fu, to tell her not to be so haughty and aloof.

Fu Tingjun was rather unimpressed.

Rather than asking her, it would be better to ask Mo Yi directly.

Surely Mo Yi would be very curious to know just how capable Zhao Ling truly was, wouldn't he?

Perhaps Mo Yi had already spoken to Lu Cheng about it!

"Thank you, Concubine Lu," Fu Tingjun said. "As for this matter, I think it should be decided by Master Zhao. It would not be appropriate for me to make the decision on his behalf."

Madam Lu was somewhat dumbfounded.

In recent years, with the Marquis of Yingchuan stationed at the Gansu Regional Military Commission, whether it was the Mongols, the Tatars, or the Tibetans, they had all suffered great losses at his hands and held him in considerable awe. Occasionally, when they invaded, it was only because hunger had left them with no choice. As soon as the Regional Military Commission sent out troops, most of those raiders would scatter at the news, and even when they resisted, they did so timidly. Thus, whenever the various guards heard of an invasion, they would often rush to volunteer for reinforcement duty to earn military merit.

Miss Fu probably didn't know this, which was why she had such a notion!

Madam Lu quickly explained the situation to Fu Tingjun.

Fu Tingjun remained steadfast in her position.

Madam Lu was somewhat taken aback. Her brow furrowed, then quickly smoothed out again.

"That's true too," she said with a smile. "It's all my fault—when one cares deeply, one's judgment is clouded. I'm sure Banner-bearer Zhao already has his plans." Then she brought up the black windstorm that had struck the city. "The Marquis of Yingchuan will personally go to the Great Buddha Temple in a couple of days to hold a requiem ceremony for the victims. I also plan to go and pray for blessings for the general. Miss Fu, in case Banner-bearer Zhao goes to Xining Guard... why don't you come with me?"

Fu Tingjun naturally declined politely.

Madam Lu left disappointed.

Fu Tingjun immediately wrote a letter and had Zheng San deliver it to Zhuanglang Guard: "...This news probably hasn't spread yet. If Ninth Master can learn of it early, he can make plans ahead of time." As she spoke, she paused briefly, then added, "Whether Ninth Master stays or goes, bring me back a definitive answer."

Yet inwardly, she faintly sensed that Zhao Ling would certainly not let this opportunity slip by.

The Great Buddha Temple—she truly ought to make a trip there.

Zheng San, however, looked troubled. "When Ninth Master left, he repeatedly instructed me to stay by your side without leaving for a moment."

If he left, with the young and the weak in the household, how could he rest easy?

"We live on the back street of the Commander-in-Chief's residence," Fu Tingjun said, knowing his concern. "You can rest assured." Then she gave an example: "Look at Madam Qi's household—they don't even have a gatekeeper, and they're perfectly fine!"

Zheng San hesitated again and again, but in the end he could not resist Fu Tingjun's insistence and went to Zhuanglang Guard.

Fu Tingjun hired a carriage and went to the Great Buddha Temple together with Zheng Sanniang.

The Great Buddha Temple, also called the Reclining Buddha Temple, had been established for over three hundred years. The main hall enshrined a statue of Sakyamuni in nirvana, over ten zhang in length. A single middle finger of the great Buddha could hold a person lying flat. Its grandeur was awe-inspiring, unlike anything Fu Tingjun had ever seen.

Yet she had no heart to admire it.

Squeezed among the bustling crowd, she knelt devoutly on the prayer mat, murmuring supplications to the Bodhisattva, praying for blessings upon Zhao Ling—for his safety, health, and smooth fortunes in all matters.

At that moment, a faint regret stirred within her heart.

Weapons and blades were blind. If by some chance... perhaps she truly should not have fanned the flames and pushed Zhao Ling into military service.