Chapter 28: Listening to the Lady

“Are you familiar with the Asylum for the Elderly, the Fields of Blessings Home, and the Orphanage?” Xuanji asked.

Su Tang’s heart gave a slight jolt.

Xuanji went on, “There is an orphanage right here in Ping’an Town.”

“I understand,” Su Tang rose to her feet and bowed respectfully. “Thank you, Master.”

Xuanji raised a hand in a gesture of humility, “Young lady, you are too courteous. I have given you nothing but words; the true blessing lies in the grace of the Three Pure Ones. It is I who should thank you for your kindness.”

“I must be bold, Master, and ask you to take part as witness, so that wealth may return to its rightful path.”

“That is no trouble at all,” Xuanji agreed gladly.

*****

Zhao Residence.

The rich, spicy aroma lingered in the air, refusing to dissipate. The lady took a deep breath, her face lighting up with satisfaction. She reached for her gold-rimmed chopsticks, fishing out slices of potato, soft, silken tofu, beef marbled like stone, crumpled fungus, and a variety of ingredients whose deliciousness was known, though their names were not. Some were tender, some crisp, some robust, some fragrant; all melded together in the spicy broth, leaving a strange emptiness in the stomach even after the meal was finished.

Suppressing the urge for another bowl, the lady wiped her lips and glanced sidelong at her husband, who was patting his belly in contentment, clearly well-fed and pleased. The two empty bowls on the table—nothing left, not even the soup—made her purse her lips.

“Feeling proud, are you?”

Zhao De sat up with a grin. “If not for you, I would never have known how to prepare such a treat. If you hadn’t guided me, I wouldn’t have realized how good it could taste, right?”

He turned to ask the servants hovering nearby.

They nodded eagerly.

The lady smiled with satisfaction. “Your brother-in-law says she’s a fallen lady, but I say she’s probably just from a modest family with a little money. If she were truly skilled, would she not understand even such a simple principle?”

Zhao De nodded vigorously. “You’re absolutely right.”

At that moment, a maid brought tea; Zhao De hurriedly took it and presented it to his wife.

She accepted it with a curved smile, lowering her eyes and taking a delicate sip.

Zhao De pretended to massage her shoulders, his gaze flicking to the steward waiting just outside.

“What is it?” Zhao De signaled, and the steward carefully entered, whispering in his ear.

The easy smile faded from Zhao De’s face, replaced by a cold expression.

“What? Delicious food?”

*****

Zhao De stared at the empty bowls on the table, his expression growing fierce. “That must be the real issue; this dish is just a sideshow.”

“Go, keep a close eye on them. If anything unusual happens, report to me immediately.”

“Yes,” the steward replied and left.

The lady set down her teacup with a shake of her head. “You really leave them no way out.”

“No matter how good the food, it’s gone now, isn’t it? Now that we have this recipe, we’ll focus on perfecting it. Once it’s ready, I’ll let my elder brother try it.”

“He seems to value jewels and jade, but he truly loves food—especially the spicy flavors. If he likes it, you’ll have only better days ahead.”

She looked at Zhao De with a half-smile; Zhao De’s eyelids twitched, and he quickly nodded.

“I’ll do as you say, always.”

*****

In the study hall, tall trees and clusters of bamboo stood outside, and even the cold wind brought only a faint chill.

The sound of recitation faded; as the light bell rang, the children poured out of the hall, gathering in groups to play horse games or puzzle rings, while others sat quietly to read and review their lessons.

Inside, with nearly eighteen seats, Jingyuan sat by the window, brush in hand, writing with focused intent. The shouts and laughter from outside drifted in on the breeze, but Jingyuan seemed oblivious. Even as three or four students clustered nearby, he remained unaware.

“So calm, aren’t you?” came a mocking voice.

“Maybe he’s already scared witless,” another teased.

“Not necessarily—perhaps our junior Jingyuan will prove himself?” someone else coaxed.

“Enough, stop with the nonsense. We’re here for a proper matter,” said a stern voice.

Jingyuan continued, lost in his writing.

The student who’d joked earlier couldn’t resist; he reached to tug at Jingyuan’s brush, but Jingyuan’s hand shifted deftly, avoiding the interference.

Annoyed, the student tried again, but Jingyuan looked up, meeting his gaze.

In that moment, Jingyuan’s eyes were cold, stern, and the force within them sent a shiver through the student’s heart. He stepped back involuntarily.

A nearby student pulled him aside. “What’s wrong?”

He pointed at Jingyuan, wanting everyone to see the expression he’d just witnessed; but looking again, Jingyuan’s face was calm and cool, just as it had been when he entered the hall.

Had he imagined it?

*****

The others glanced at Jingyuan and then at the student, questioning with their eyes: What happened?

For a moment, he was speechless.

Impatience flickered on the faces of the others. The stern student, Jiang Wenbo, looked to Jingyuan and spoke in a grave tone, “Jingyuan, you entered the school only yesterday, moving quickly from beginner to advanced classes and joining our Wenhua. Clearly, you have some ability—otherwise, Master Fang would not have taken you as his disciple. Yet your conduct seems questionable.”

“Indeed. Yesterday after school, Brother Wen Zhao merely advised you because your wife mistreated a fellow student. But you stood by, allowing her to speak rudely, stir up trouble, and give ignorant village women undue confidence, all while undermining the dignity of our scholars,” said Fang Juncai, standing beside him.

Zhang Hongsheng, who had earlier fanned the flames, chuckled, “Wenbo, Juncai, you don’t know—the talk in Ping’an Town has been lively. This merchant’s wife, making ten taels of silver a day, is Jingyuan’s own lady. With the whole household depending on her, naturally he dares not speak up.”

Jiang Wenbo’s expression grew more somber. “Though Jingyuan has been in the hall only a day, as a disciple of the Master, he should be upright and gentle, discerning right from wrong—otherwise, he brings shame upon the Master.”

“If others believe the Master chose wrongly, so be it. But I fear it will reflect poorly on his judgment,” Fang Juncai snorted.

“Exactly,” Liu Ziyu, the student who’d been frightened earlier, stepped forward, flinging his sleeve in agreement.

Jingyuan looked over the four before him, then glanced across the hall at Huang Wenzhao, who seemed absorbed in his book, unconcerned with the dispute.

No words were needed; the four boys’ faces showed varied reactions.

Fang Juncai barked, “What are you implying? We care for the reputation of our study hall, the integrity of gentlemen. If you think we speak falsely, defend yourself.”

“Indeed,” Liu Ziyu echoed.

Jingyuan’s lips moved; he spoke, “The virtue of a gentleman is like the wind, that of a petty man like the grass. When the wind passes over the grass, it must bend.”

The four faces changed again.

“What do you mean?” Liu Ziyu asked.

“You are the petty man,” Fang Juncai shouted, stepping forward, but Zhang Hongwen quickly held him back. “Calm down, no fighting in the hall.”

Jiang Wenbo, struggling to restrain his anger, called out, “If you feel wronged, Jingyuan, defend yourself now.”

With the commotion, the once quiet hall seemed suddenly ablaze; all the students looked over, and even Huang Wenzhao was forced to turn his head.

Just then, a stern voice called out from the doorway, “What are you all doing?”