Chapter 90

"You're saying your mistress wants to apologize to me?" Fu Tingjun asked Xuemei coolly.

Xuemei nodded eagerly. "Miss Fu, our mistress is sincere..."

"Then why hasn't she come herself?" Fu Tingjun cut her off, smiling at her.

Because you dared to call her insane right in front of Grandmother Feng!

The thought flashed through her mind, but Xuemei dared not voice it.

If not for the General's sake, why would our mistress lower herself to invite you to a meal? Anyway, our mistress has done her part—when the General returns, she'll have something to report. Whether you accept or not is your business. Why should she risk coming in person when who knows what you might say?

She grumbled inwardly, but kept a smile on her face. "Our mistress originally wanted to come herself, but she was afraid you might still harbor some resentment, so she felt too embarrassed to come..."

"Xuemei," Fu Tingjun interrupted her again, "my wet nurse had a saying: 'A full bottle makes no sound; a half-full bottle sloshes.' It means the more capable a person is, the more steady they are in speech and action—they don't speak carelessly. But when they do speak, their words are well-reasoned and beyond reproach. Those who claim to know half of heaven and earth are the ones most afraid of being looked down upon, so they must always be first in everything and never yield a word to anyone. They chatter endlessly, yet their words can't withstand scrutiny and are full of holes. My mother turned this saying into 'Complacency invites loss; humility brings benefit.' The meaning is that pride and arrogance bring harm, while modesty and caution yield rewards. Both sayings convey the same idea. However, I suspect you might not understand my mother's lesson, but my wet nurse's saying should be clear enough for you."

Xuemei's face flushed crimson.

Fu Tingjun was calling her ignorant!

"Since your mistress sincerely wishes to apologize to me, she must know she was wrong. Why worry about whether I still harbor resentment?" Fu Tingjun intended to teach Xuemei a lesson, so her words were deliberately harsh. "By your logic, when the old General Lian Po went to apologize to Lin Xiangru, he should have first checked whether Lin Xiangru had already forgiven him—and if not, then skip the apology altogether?" She sighed. "This shows the harm of being uneducated. Even delivering a message gets twisted!"

Xuemei's lips trembled, her face turning purple. She hung her head and dared not say another word.

"Now I understand why General Mo asked me to teach your mistress proper conduct!" Fu Tingjun shot her a cold glance. "Take this message back to your mistress: seniority and hierarchy are the way of heaven and earth. People speak according to their station and act according to their place—not a single detail can be overlooked. One misstep invites ridicule. If she wants to apologize to me, let her think carefully before acting. She shouldn't be like a half-full bottle, speaking and acting without using her head, sending a personal maid to spout nonsense before me. Utterly senseless!"

Xuemei murmured her assent, looking like a frostbitten eggplant.

Fu Tingjun then cast a meaningful glance at Zheng Sanniang.

Zheng Sanniang immediately raised her voice: "What are you still standing here for? Go report to your mistress at once." Then she muttered under her breath, "Utterly ill-bred," causing Xuemei's face to alternate between red and pale. Flustered, she bent her knees in a quick bow to Fu Tingjun and turned to hurry away—only to trip over a gray brick laid flush with the walkway, so identical to the surrounding bricks that one would never notice it unless looking carefully. Pain shot through her foot. She let out an "Ouch!" and clutched her foot, but then remembered Fu Tingjun's knowing, half-smiling gaze. She didn't dare make another sound, and hobbled away limping.

Behind her came Zheng Sanniang's hearty laughter.

"Miss, I never knew you could speak so well," she said, gazing at Fu Tingjun with admiration. "You scolded Xuemei until she couldn't even muster a rebuttal."

But Fu Tingjun winked at her. "You did well too! That basin of water was thrown at just the right moment."

Zheng Sanniang smiled sheepishly, then suddenly let out an "Oh no!" and said worriedly, "Miss, I'm rather blunt in my speech too. If I ever say something wrong, please, you must tell me—so I don't end up being laughed at..." Her voice trailed off, and her expression turned bashful.

Zheng Sanniang had originally been a commoner and had become Fu Tingjun's servant by chance. Neither she nor her husband harbored any disloyalty toward Fu Tingjun. Sometimes Fu Tingjun felt they weren't her servants at all, but rather impoverished relatives who had come to seek her help with odd jobs—a common occurrence in the Fu household.

"If you'd done anything wrong, I would have said so long ago," Fu Tingjun said with a smile. "So clearly, there's nothing wrong with what you do."

Zheng Sanniang thought about it and realized that was true, so she relaxed.

Fu Tingjun then invited her: "Come, let's go check the kitchen! We're home today—let's make something delicious."

Zheng Sanniang cheerfully agreed, and the two of them headed to the kitchen.

Kneading the dough, rolling out the wrappers, and chopping the filling—they made pork and cabbage dumplings.

At dusk, the kitchen doors and windows were thrown wide open, and the evening breeze drifted in gently. They scooped the plump white dumplings tumbling in the boiling water out of the pot and set them on the table, laid out a plate of golden bean sprouts, and stir-fried a dish of vibrant green water celery. A feeling of happiness began to waft through the room.

As night fell, the bright red paper-cuttings of "surplus year after year" on the window lattice covered with Korean paper remained vivid and beautiful, yet now they also reflected the shadow of a child bending over to write his characters.

Fu Tingjun tucked away the corner of the fabric and slowly gathered her needlework: "Have you finished writing today's characters?"

A Sen nodded: "I wrote an extra page." Under the lamplight, his eyes sparkled with joy.

"Let Sanniang draw you some water. Wash up and get to bed early!" She walked over and patted A Sen on the head.

A Sen frowned: "A bath again! I just had one yesterday."

"You had braised pork yesterday too—does that mean you can skip it from now on?" Fu Tingjun pretended to look displeased at him.

"No, no." A Sen immediately conceded defeat. "Fine, I'll go take a bath, alright?" He trudged back to the side room with his head hanging.

A wisp of cloud drifted by, blocking the bright moonlight, and the world dimmed for a moment.

Five or six dark figures slipped over the wall and vanished into the shadows beside the house.

The two big black dogs lying by the main hall's door suddenly raised their heads and let out low whimpers toward the shadows beside the house.

The hall door creaked open, and A Sen stepped out. He patted the big black dog's head: "What are you barking about? Keep a good watch on the house!"

The big black dog whimpered in grievance.

A Sen called out loudly to Zheng Sanniang: "Is there still hot water?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Zheng Sanniang's figure appeared at the window lattice. "I'm making Linchun's spring clothes right now. Let your Third Brother Zheng pour it for you." With that, Zheng San pushed the door open and came out: "A grown lad like you, still needing someone to pour water for you..."

Hearing this, A Sen quickly waved his hand: "Third Brother, you go on with what you're doing. Don't worry about me, don't worry about me." He scurried back into his room in a flash.

Zheng San watched him, muttered a few words with a smile, and turned back inside.

From within the room came Zheng Sanniang's soft complaint: "Whenever I ask you to do something, you put on that long face..."

"A kid like that—why spoil him?" Zheng San replied with displeasure. The dim lamplight suddenly went out. "Let's sleep! The young lady said I should go to the street tomorrow and see if I can buy two elm saplings—I dug the holes too deep, and the two little saplings I planted earlier didn't survive!"

Zheng Sanniang hummed in acknowledgment.

The lamp in the main hall's east room also went out.

A Sen poked his head out from the east side room. Seeing the courtyard utterly still, he chuckled to himself: "Well, the young lady won't know whether I bathed or not!" With a clatter, he shut the window, blew out the lamp, and settled in for the night.

From afar came the night watchman's clapper marking the second watch.

"Mind the fire and candles!" The drawn-out call drifted over, making the courtyard seem even more tranquil than water.

From the shadows beside the house, something was tossed out, and the aroma of meat buns filled the courtyard.

The two big black dogs crouching on the main hall's steps twitched their noses, padded over slowly, circled it a few times, let out two soft whimpers, and then fell to devouring the meat buns.

From the shadows beside the house came a voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz: "How many more dogs are there?"

"In the kitchen!" someone replied in an equally hushed tone. "They've already eaten the buns."

The first speaker fell silent.

In the moonlight like flowing silk, the two big black dogs whimpered, their heads drooping onto their front paws.

From the shadows beside the house came a suppressed, excited voice: "It's done!"

Someone said: "Young Master Feng, we had a deal—you get the beauty, we get the silver. You'd better not go back on your word!"

"Damn it," an annoyed voice cut in, "do I, Feng Dahu, look like a man short on silver? You just rest easy—I only want the beauty. Everything else is yours!"

"Of course, of course." Flattering, greedy laughter came from the shadows.

Several figures darted out from the shadows. One, exceptionally tall, made straight for the main hall, while the others slipped into the east and west side rooms.

Feng Dahu's heart pounded with excitement. Guided by the moonlight, he groped his way to Fu Tingjun's bedside.

The moon-white cotton gauze bed curtain hung quietly, exuding an air of serene grace.

Feng Dahu took a deep breath, flung open the curtain, and lunged at the dark shape in the center of the bed.

A man's agonized roar erupted from the main hall's east room: "Damn it! What the hell is this? Heaven help me! Help! Help!"

The east and west side rooms remained silent, but the lamps in the neighbors' houses lit up one after another.

The man's agonizing screams echoed through the night sky, piercing and heart-wrenching: "I am Feng Dahu... my brother-in-law is Lord Liu, the Vice Commander of Gansu... damn it, if I die here, you'll all be buried with me... https://www.hetushu.com.com... help... someone come quick... someone get this beast away from me... I'll reward you a thousand taels of silver..." Then came even more shrill screams, faintly mixed with low growls like a tiger's roar.

Only then did the eastern and western wing rooms stir: "Thieves! Catch the thieves!" Then two dark figures were tossed into the center of the courtyard, lying motionless like dead things.

"What's going on?"

"I thought I heard someone shouting about Lord Liu, the Vice Commander of Gansu—what exactly is happening?"

"The trouble is at that Banner-bearer Zhao's household—whether it's their children under seven feet tall, or the women..."

The neighbors, awakened by the commotion, threw on their clothes and lit candles, standing far away murmuring among themselves. Not a single person dared to approach, let alone go summon the night patrol officers.