The maid shook the dried paper and hung it on the screen frame.
“Four,” she read aloud.
She took a few steps back and turned to look at Cheng Jiao-niang.
Cheng Jiao-niang was already standing outside the door. The cherry blossom tree was lush with branches and leaves, swaying in the summer breeze.
It had been four days since they met with Secretariat Editor Liu, and the young masters had also been locked up in the prison for four days. If it weren’t for the reassuring message sent by Young Master Qin, one would truly be anxious by now.
Still, despite that, a growing unease lingered in her heart.
Zhou Liu-lang walked in and saw Cheng Jiao-niang standing under the veranda, rubbing her fingers, gazing blankly at the sky.
“Still trying to divine fortune?” he asked.
“Is there even any need to divine fortune?” Cheng Jiao-niang replied. “I’m just counting time.”
“Counting what time?” Zhou Liu-lang asked.
Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him and smiled.
“The time when good news arrives,” she said, lowering her hands.
Zhou Liu-lang looked at her, his expression doubtful.
If it had been before, he might have given her words some thought. But now…
Could anything this lady said still be trusted?
“I told you, I don’t lie. Why are you looking at me like that?” Cheng Jiao-niang said with a faint smile.
“Is that so?” Zhou Liu-lang snorted in response.
“Of course. But how others choose to interpret my words — that’s no concern of mine,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, turning to walk toward the main hall.
Zhou Liu-lang was about to say something else when someone knocked at the door.
“Lady Cheng, Master Dou from the Immortal’s Abode invites you.”
The Immortal’s Abode had reopened, though it looked no different than when it was closed.
When Cheng Jiao-niang and Zhou Liu-lang arrived after hearing the news, Dou Qi was just stepping into the Immortal’s Abode as well.
To be fair, the brothers from Maoyuan Mountain had gone easy on him—aside from a fractured arm, he’d come out unscathed. Now that the arm had been set, though still tightly bandaged, it didn’t hinder his movement.
“Grandfather, we’re just going to let them off that easily?” Dou Qi shouted, exasperated. “Just release them like that?”
“How is that letting them off easy? Aren’t we going to set some conditions?” Secretariat Editor Liu replied calmly, raising a hand to press his forehead.
He hadn’t slept well last night. Not that he ever slept well, but today he felt particularly exhausted, as though his eardrums were buzzing.
Perhaps it was because the news he’d heard was too unsettling.
Though still just a rumor whispered in private, there’s no smoke without fire—Chen Shao was said to be on the verge of a promotion.
The rumor was said to have come from the Council of State, and supposedly Qin An, a close attendant of the Emperor, had also caught wind of it.
And Qin An was no ordinary figure—his relationship with the Emperor was far from trivial.
In fact, to call it sudden wouldn’t be accurate. Nor was it unexpected. Ever since Chen Shao came to the capital, everyone had known this day would come—it was only a matter of time.
And Secretariat Editor Liu wasn’t the type to start scheming just because he heard some news.
After all, he’d been preparing for this day for more than ten years.
“Grandfather, why should we let them go just because we’re setting conditions? We could kill them and still set conditions,” Dou Qi shouted by Secretariat Editor Liu’s ear, snapping him out of his distraction.
Secretariat Editor Liu frowned, waved a hand in front of his nose, and looked at the heavily powdered and rouged Dou Qi.
“Stay away from me. That cloying scent is choking me,” he said. “All you ever think about is killing. Death is only a matter of time—what’s the rush? So short-sighted!”
“Well, that puts my mind at ease,” Dou Qi replied with a grin. “I thought Grandfather was going soft.”
Secretariat Editor Liu snorted.
Soft-hearted? What’s that supposed to be?
Footsteps sounded outside the door, and the manager pushed it open.
“Master, Boss—Young Master Zhou and Lady Cheng have arrived,” he announced.
As the young man and woman stepped through the doorway, Dou Qi felt a moment of disorientation. His memories of having seen them before had grown faint, but the moment he laid eyes on them again, he recognized them instantly—even the maid following behind them hadn’t changed.
And yet, everything had changed.
Winter had turned to summer. The customers and proprietors had become proprietors themselves. And he—he had lost money, lost men, and even broken his arm!
If he had known those two youths would cause such a mess today, he should have dealt with them back then!
Truly, in this world, there are no good or bad people—only the clever and the foolish.
The information Secretariat Editor Liu had been investigating over the past few days had now been confirmed: the Zhou family knew nothing about the Tai Ping Residence, nor who had brought about Master Zhou’s downfall. Unaware of the cause, they couldn’t possibly understand the consequences—they were flailing in the dark. Unlike these two youths, who clearly knew what mistake they’d made, who they had provoked, and had come straight here the moment they figured it out. And yet, they still hadn’t dared tell their family.
So it really was these two who had caused all this. That he—Dou Qi—had been played for a fool by a pair of teenagers drove him to the brink of fury.
“Truly unbelievable! Unbelievable!” he burst out, his voice laced with venom.
“Yes, quite unbelievable,” Cheng Jiao-niang echoed. “I gave Master Dou a profitable secret recipe for free, and now you still want to take what’s mine? People truly are insatiable.”
“If it weren’t for you—” Dou Qi shouted.
“Enough! All of you, enough!” Secretariat Editor Liu, clearly pained by the clamor, raised his hand wearily. “Better to untie a knot than tighten it. Sit down, all of you—let’s talk this through properly. What good is all this noise?”
Cheng Jiao-niang took a seat to the side, Zhou Liu-lang followed suit, and Dou Qi, fuming, gave a sharp shake of the only arm he could still move, then sat down as well.
“Ah Qi, it was thanks to Lady Cheng’s remedy that your arm could be healed…” Secretariat Editor Liu began.
Before he could finish, Dou Qi jumped up again.
“Grandfather, my arm was broken by her in the first place!” he shouted.
“If you hadn’t broken someone else’s arm first, why would they break yours?” Cheng Jiao-niang immediately shot back.
“You’re slandering me! What proof do you have that I was the one who chopped off Li Dashao’s hand?” Dou Qi snorted.
A faint smile appeared at the corner of Cheng Jiao-niang’s mouth.
“You’ve just admitted it was chopped, not broken—what more proof do I need?” she said.
“I heard it, alright? Can’t I ask around? So anyone who knows Li Dashao’s hand was chopped off must be the culprit?” Dou Qi retorted with a cold laugh.
How childish. How laughably naïve!
Ignorant, arrogant, a foolhardy youth!
He had underestimated them before and let his guard down—only then had he suffered a setback. But now they were standing plainly before him—did they really think he would sit there stupidly and wait to be humiliated again?
“Enough!” Secretariat Editor Liu raised his voice and shouted.
The room fell silent.
“What’s done is done. No more arguing. Better to untie a knot than to tighten it. Everyone take a step back—what’s the point of dragging this out?” Secretariat Editor Liu said earnestly. “Since Lady Cheng and Young Master Zhou have come to me and placed your trust in me, then I, as the elder, will make a judgment for you all. Are you willing to accept it?”
“I’ll naturally do as Grandfather says,” Dou Qi replied, sitting properly once again.
Zhou Liu-lang and Cheng Jiao-niang also nodded in agreement.
“First of all, a man can’t be beaten for nothing…” Secretariat Editor Liu said, pointing at Dou Qi. “No matter what you believe in your hearts, without evidence, you have no grounds. And if you’re in the wrong, you must accept the punishment.”
Cheng Jiao-niang didn’t speak. She seemed a bit reluctant.
“Yes, of course we accept the punishment,” Zhou Liu-lang said, shooting her a look.
Secretariat Editor Liu nodded with a trace of elder-like approval.
“But to recognize one’s mistake and change is a great virtue. Considering your youth and impulsiveness, and that you’ve sincerely helped Dou Qi heal his arm, Dou Qi, you shouldn’t be too unforgiving either,” he continued.
“Then how should they be punished?” Dou Qi asked.
Secretariat Editor Liu looked toward Cheng Jiao-niang and Zhou Liu-lang but said nothing.
“This whole mess started because of this restaurant. We’ll give up the Tai Ping Residence,” Zhou Liu-lang said.
Dou Qi snorted.
As if you could keep it anyway.
“Very well,” Secretariat Editor Liu nodded. “That will give us something to report to the authorities too—an out-of-court settlement, with the plaintiff dropping the charges. A stern reprimand and a fine, and the matter will be closed.”
“You’re getting off easy,” Dou Qi muttered angrily.
“Master, I ask that you look after my people. One of them was injured before and has only just recovered,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
“Of course, of course. Once things are properly explained to the authorities, they’ll be released,” Secretariat Editor Liu replied kindly. “You needn’t worry.”
Cheng Jiao-niang and Zhou Liu-lang bowed to express their thanks and prepared to take their leave.
“Wait a moment,” Secretariat Editor Liu said.
The two paused, puzzled, and turned to look at him.
“This—Lady Cheng, you should take it back,” Secretariat Editor Liu said, pulling out a piece of paper from his sleeve and pushing it toward her.
It was the medicinal recipe Cheng Jiao-niang had given him that day.
Zhou Liu-lang looked momentarily stunned.
“But since it was given to you, it should belong to you now,” he said.
Secretariat Editor Liu shook his head with a gentle smile.
“You entrusted it to me so I could treat Dou Qi. Now that he’s healed, how could I keep it?” he said, then added a touch apologetically, “That said, the recipe was seen by others. But don’t worry, Lady Cheng—it was only someone from my own family’s pharmacy, a trustworthy person. I’ve already had him swear a deadly oath never to use or share it.”
In that instant, Zhou Liu-lang actually felt a bit softened… even a touch of pity.
Such a good, honest, upright old man—and thankfully, about to be outwitted by someone even more honest, who never tells lies, and is even more upright.
That really was good news.
