As dusk approached, Cheng Jiao-niang left Tai Ping Residence, her carriage meandering leisurely through the bustling streets.
“Miss, look at the Immortal’s Abode,” the maid whispered with a chuckle, lifting the curtain.
Cheng Jiao-niang glanced outside. The colorful facade of the Immortal’s Abode remained vibrant, with a few more attendants out front, beckoning patrons.
The carriage passed by in a flash.
“What did you see?” Cheng Jiao-niang inquired.
The maid turned to her, grinning.
“I saw that in just a few days, it’s not as popular as it used to be,” she replied.
“And what else?” Cheng Jiao-niang pressed.
The maid tilted her head, pondering.
“And also, one should always be kind and honest,” she said with a playful smile.
Cheng Jiao-niang shook her head.
“And what else?” she asked.
The maid let out an “ah,” thought for a moment, then shook her head.
“What else?” she asked again.
“There’s more.” Cheng Jiao-niang gazed outside. This might not be the most bustling area in the capital, but it was certainly among the top three. The streets were lined with taverns and eateries. “Difficult.”
“Difficult?” The maid asked in confusion.
“To do something, to do it well, to gain a foothold, to stand firm—it’s difficult, very difficult,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
Dou Qi’s tavern saw a sharp decline in popularity in just a short time—not only due to bad luck but also because rival competitors had seized the chance to push him down. On the surface, they laughed and drank together as friends, but in private, countless eyes watched in the shadows. The moment an opportunity arose, no opponent would let it slip.
It wasn’t about good or evil. The way of the world was ruthless, and life was harsh.
The maid instinctively followed her gaze outside the carriage.
Beyond the window, the streets bustled with laughter and crowds. A brightly adorned, spacious tavern stood nearby, where two or three attendants eagerly welcomed guests with beaming smiles. Inside, two gorgeously dressed courtesans clutched wine pitchers, giggling and casting flirtatious glances at passersby.
Life was harsh—one must be cautious in all things.
“Miss, I saw it. I’ve taken note,” she turned back and said seriously.
Cheng Jiao-niang’s carriage returned to Yudai Bridge as dusk approached.
After washing up, Ban Qin brought in the meal.
“Miss, a family by the name of Peng wants the medicine you make. Their master also consumes alchemical elixirs. They are longtime acquaintances of the Tong family,” she said.
“Peng?” the maid remarked. “Could it be the family of Peng Yan, the renowned prime minister who served three dynasties?”
Ban Qin, however, was unfamiliar with this.
“I’ve been moving about these past few days and overheard people mentioning them. Two maids were chatting and laughing about it. They said their master has been visiting Doctor Li daily, only to be diagnosed as incurable, so now he’s desperate for your miraculous remedy. That caught my attention.
“Today, they caught up to me and vaguely asked whose household I belonged to. I didn’t hide it and told them the truth. They were overjoyed.
“I also mentioned that you came here to recuperate and are not yet treating patients—just making medicine for practice in your spare time. When they asked what kind of medicine you were making, I said I didn’t know. They didn’t press further and hurried away in excitement. I suppose they’ll be coming to visit any day now.”
The maid pondered for a moment, then clapped her hands.
“If they dared to hound Doctor Li with such brazen words and are close to the Tong family, then it must be the Peng Yan household!” She turned to Ban Qin. “Ah, Ban Qin, you’ve landed yourself a fine connection this time!”
Although Peng Yan had long passed, and his descendants no longer held high positions at court, they were still not to be underestimated. This was what people meant by an aristocratic family—emperors might change, but their lineage stood firm for a hundred years.
Ban Qin smiled a little sheepishly.
“I… I didn’t really do anything, just overheard some idle gossip,” she said.
To avoid making a big fuss while still managing to swiftly and accurately find new clients—it could be seen as both simple and difficult.
“Fish have their paths, shrimp have theirs—everyone has their own way,” the maid remarked with admiration.
Indeed, fish and shrimp each had their own paths. Even words spoken by the lowest-ranking maids could find their way to the master’s ears in the shortest time.
“Really?” A plump middle-aged man shouted, gripping the armrest to rise, only to falter from lack of strength and nearly fall.
The madam and a concubine hurried to support him, but he impatiently pushed them away.
Instinctively, he reached for a porcelain bottle beside him, only for his wife to stop him.
“Master, you mustn’t!” she said tearfully. “That Lady Cheng does not see patients. If something happens to you from taking this again, what are we to do?”
The man withdrew his hand sullenly.
“It was Lady Cheng’s servant who said so. I also made inquiries. Though the Zhou family didn’t confirm it directly, their servants let slip that Lady Cheng left their household late one night some time ago,” said the steward, who was kneeling in the hall and wiping sweat from his brow. “We also checked that residence—it originally belonged to Minister Chen. I inquired with the Chen family, and while they haven’t announced it publicly, they have indeed sold it to Lady Cheng.”
“Then it’s true! Master, we must go at once!” the madam exclaimed, rising to her feet.
“Go where? I’m not on my deathbed yet. Going would be a waste of time,” the man said irritably.
“The medicine!” the madam insisted.
“What medicine?” the man asked.
“Didn’t that maid say it? Her mistress may not treat illnesses, but she still makes medicine to practice her craft,” the madam explained. “We won’t ask her to treat you—just to make a remedy for us. Wouldn’t that be enough?”
“But the maid also said she’s only testing small batches, not making much,” the steward reminded them.
“Then we must hurry! If we’re late, it won’t be our turn!”
This time, the man stood up steadily without fumbling. Pointing toward the door, he commanded,
“Quick, prepare the carriage!”
As night fell, Cheng Jiao-niang’s door slid open. The maid sitting under the corridor quickly stood up, watching as her madam stepped outside.
“Madam Peng, take care,” the maid said, following behind to see her out.
“No need to see me off,” Madam Peng hurriedly replied, clutching the small porcelain jar in her arms even tighter. Her expression was filled with joy and excitement, as if she had just obtained the most precious treasure in the world.
“Madam, don’t forget my mistress’s instructions,” the maid reminded her with a smile.
“I wouldn’t dare, I wouldn’t dare,” Madam Peng said hastily.
Only then did the maid smile, bow slightly, and refrain from escorting her further.
Jin Ge’er waited until Madam Peng reached the doorway before carefully opening the door. First, like a thief, he glanced left and right. Night had fallen, and the dim glow of lanterns cast flickering shadows at the entrance.
A maid stepped out first and summoned a carriage that had been waiting discreetly in the corner, unmarked by any insignia.
Only then did Madam Peng, flanked by two maids, hurriedly climb into the carriage. She hadn’t even settled into her seat before urgently urging the driver, “Go, go, quickly!”
The carriage sped off, causing Madam Peng to lurch backward. Startled, the maids quickly steadied her.
“All is well, all is well,” Madam Peng murmured, concerned only with the porcelain jar she held tightly in her arms. She caressed it carefully, sighing in relief. “This is my husband’s lifeline.”
The maids, eyeing the jar, let out a breath of their own.
Tonight had felt like a heist…
“Madam, we spent so much money on this, even sold something, yet we still have to sneak around…” one of the maids couldn’t help but mutter.
“What do you know?” Madam Peng immediately scolded. “That Lady Cheng is still recovering; we can’t go around broadcasting this. What if word gets out?”
“What… what would happen?” the maid asked blankly.
“You really don’t understand!” Now that Madam Peng had gotten what she wanted, she felt at ease and was in an excellent mood. She continued, “Think about it—why doesn’t she want people to know?”
Just this tiny jar of medicine had cost five thousand guan—five thousand guan!
Was this selling medicine? No, this was like printing money! Even the Copper Minting Bureau couldn’t work this fast.
Why didn’t she want people to know? Was she afraid of making too much money too quickly?
“Haven’t you heard what that maid said? Lady Cheng is still unwell. These medicines take a long time to make, and if word gets out and everyone comes begging for them, how could she possibly handle it?” Madam Peng explained. “Lady Cheng has the heart of a Bodhisattva—she can’t bear to see people suffer when she has the means to help. That’s why she moved out of the Zhou household to live in seclusion and recover.”
The maids finally understood.
“So that’s how it is… that’s how it is,” they murmured in agreement.
But there was one more thing Madam Peng didn’t say. She placed a hand over the porcelain jar in her arms, a trace of satisfaction in her expression.
Lady Cheng’s medicine was in limited supply, and the Peng family had been lucky enough to secure a portion. This small amount would eventually be used up. If others found out, then the next time Lady Cheng made more, they might not be able to get any.
Keeping quiet, keeping it a secret—only the Peng family knew.
Yes, this was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Thank you for the chapter.