The clattering hooves came to an abrupt halt.
Ban Qin swayed slightly from the sudden stop.
“What’s going on up front now?” she asked, lifting the carriage curtain.
“Someone at Desheng Pavilion skipped out on the bill and got beaten up,” the coachman said excitedly, craning his neck for a better look. “Seems like a scholar too. These scholars love being shameless cheapskates.”
“Enough,” the maid said. “We have things to attend to.”
The coachman quickly pulled his head back and dared not look further, steering the carriage through the crowd.
The carriage curtain fell, cutting off the clamor outside.
Of course, as they passed the two young men who had been thrown out, the coachman couldn’t resist stealing a few more glances with a snicker.
“Not bad-looking,” he muttered to himself, smirking and raising an eyebrow at them. “But the ladies at Desheng Pavilion don’t just care about faces.”
This earned him a furious glare from one of the young men.
Not the least bit intimidated, the coachman scoffed.
“Country bumpkins!” he sneered, flicking the reins provocatively.
The carriage deliberately brushed past the two young men, eliciting a scornful curse in response.
“People in the capital are so vulgar and rude!” Wang Shi’qi fumed, then turned his attention back to the young maid. “How about I buy your freedom and take you back to Jiang-zhou?”
As the carriage rolled on, those words, drifting in through the curtain, were quickly left behind, replaced by the hawking and laughter of the bustling streets.
“This coachman can’t be kept anymore,” the maid said in a low voice. “Miss, we should buy our own carriage. Jin Ge’er is old enough now—he shouldn’t just be fooling around but must learn some proper skills. Fourth Young Master is an expert in handling horses; let him teach Jin Ge’er how to drive them.”
“Fourth Young Master knows how to train horses?” Ban Qin asked curiously.
“Yes,” the maid nodded, a hint of admiration in her voice. “At first, I didn’t notice. That day at Tai Ping Residence, there were many horses and carriages, and several horses started biting each other. The stable hands were at a loss, but when Fourth Young Master heard the commotion and went over, he just circled them twice and shouted a few commands—the horses immediately calmed down, docile as white rabbits.”
Ban Qin giggled.
“It’s true, don’t laugh!” the maid said, shaking Cheng Jiao-niang’s arm playfully. “Miss, you saw it too, didn’t you?”
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled faintly and nodded.
“After that, I paid attention. Whenever Fourth Young Master leads a horse, he never even has to reach for the reins—the horse just follows him on its own,” the maid continued. “I remember the master once said that among the Northwest cavalry, the best horse trainers can take even ordinary horses and make them as fine as the prized steeds of Hexi.”
Ban Qin nodded, though not entirely understanding.
“So Fourth Young Master is that impressive?” she remarked.
“Every field has its masters—none should be underestimated,” the maid replied.
Their casual chatter in the carriage soon came to an end as they passed through the streets and stopped in front of Immortal’s Abode.
“Sister’s here for inspection,” Xu Bangchui greeted with a laugh, teasing her openly.
Cheng Jiao-niang bowed to him in response.
“Ah, Sister always uses this to mess with me!” Xu Bangchui yelped, darting away.
He could never stand such formal exchanges of courtesy.
“Been to the pharmacy?” Xu Maoxiu asked with a smile.
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded.
“They’ve hired two new doctors,” she said.
Yichun Hall was flooded with patients seeking treatment, yet Cheng Jiao-niang never took on cases herself. She only instructed the shopkeeper to manage the pharmacy meticulously—ensuring the medicines were of the finest quality, the doctors highly skilled, and, of course, offering generous wages to match.
“Fatal illnesses are not the norm,” Cheng Jiao-niang remarked. “Thus, they cannot sustain a lasting practice. Compared to the art of curing, the art of healing holds greater importance. The grand path takes precedence; minor techniques serve only as supplements.”
“You have a wise sense of priority,” Xu Maoxiu said, smiling.
Cheng Jiao-niang turned to look at him and gave a faint smile.
“No,” she said. “Truthfully, it’s just that I’m not short on money.”
Xu Maoxiu froze for a moment, then burst into hearty laughter.
The two chatted and laughed as they strolled along the corridor, passing through serene and elegant surroundings. At the corner of the hallway stood a bronze lotus, from which wisps of blue smoke curled upward, suffusing the entire corridor with a faint, refreshing fragrance.
Immortal’s Abode only served ‘Passing Immortal’. During the summer months, diners were few, but the meat and vegetables here were of the finest quality—all freshly slaughtered and harvested that very day. Many had witnessed how any unused ingredients by day’s end were simply discarded by Immortal’s Abode.
This practice drew crowds of people who waited outside the establishment each evening, hoping to scavenge the discarded food. However, as time went on, the amount of thrown-away ingredients grew increasingly scarce.
Exquisite ingredients, tableware crafted entirely of gold and silver, and exquisitely decorated private rooms—these were bound to attract patrons.
What did it matter if it was expensive? For some, the real fear was that it might not be expensive enough.
After all, the pleasures of immortals should never be something just anyone could afford.
“Operating costs are too high,” Manager Wu remarked as he presented the account books. “We likely won’t turn a profit until at least a year later.”
“What does profit matter? Let’s keep it running for fun,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied casually.
Manager Wu burst into hearty laughter.
In this world, those who wish to earn must first be willing to spend—just as the young mistress said, genuine gold has always required silver in exchange, with no shortcuts to be found.
What shopkeepers fear most are employers who stubbornly refuse to invest yet expect massive returns, or those who demand double their penny the moment it’s spent.
Only those with wealth yet free from greed can afford such meticulous craftsmanship and endure the slow trickle of long-term gains.
Working for such an employer was like a master artisan encountering the finest jade—armed with perfect tools and ample time to patiently polish a masterpiece destined to endure through the ages.
Cheng Jiao-niang glanced out the window and spotted a straw target set up in the backyard.
“Knowing you’d enjoy this, and since we use them too, we made one for you to practice whenever you like,” Xu Maoxiu said, then added with a gentle smile, “You’re too slender—it wouldn’t hurt to train a little.”
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded and rose, lifting the hem of her skirt as she stepped outside.
“This time, I want to use brother’s bow.”
In the backyard, while her maid tied the armguard straps, Cheng Jiao-niang made her request.
“Ha! With those skinny arms and delicate frame of yours, how could you possibly handle ours?” Xu Bangchui laughed from the sidelines.
“Did Sixth Brother start with a three-stone bow right away?” Cheng Jiao-niang countered.
Xu Bangchui chuckled twice but fell silent.
Xu Maoxiu had already brought over his bow.
“Don’t even think about the 180-pound one—I can barely draw it myself now,” he said. “If you can manage this 50-pound bow, that’ll be impressive enough.”
Cheng Jiao-niang took the bow, steadied herself, and drew the string—only to immediately lose her grip.
Xu Bangchui burst into gleeful laughter at her failure.
She repositioned herself, took a deep breath, and tried again with trembling arms—still unsuccessful.
“This is all Third Brother’s fault! He only thinks about his own fun and didn’t prepare a child’s bow…” Xu Bangchui teased with a loud chuckle.
Xu Maoxiu shot him a glare.
“Do you have nothing better to do?” he snapped.
Xu Bangchui grinned and mimed zipping his lips shut.
Xu Maoxiu stepped closer and placed his hand over the bow.
“Put your strength here,” he instructed, adjusting her grip on the riser. “Now, draw the string.”
Cheng Jiao-niang strained with all her might. The hempen bowstring trembled as it slowly bent, and a smile flickered across her face. But just as her strength faltered, Xu Maoxiu quickly reached out to steady the bow. Together they drew the string taut, the fletched arrow nocked securely.
With a resonant twang, the arrow flew straight and true, embedding itself firmly in the straw target.
“I truly am hopeless at this,” Cheng Jiao-niang laughed, turning her head to speak.
In the sunlight, the young maiden’s flawless complexion appeared startlingly close – so near that Xu Maoxiu could even discern the fine down on her cheeks.
Startled, he leapt backward in alarm, releasing his grip so abruptly that he nearly stumbled in his haste to retreat. “My apologies! My deepest apologies!” he stammered hastily.
Cheng Jiao-niang only smiled more brightly. “The fault was mine,” she replied with quiet amusement.
Xu Maoxiu’s tension eased into a smile. “With practice, you’ll soon manage a thirty or forty-pound bow quite competently,” he encouraged.
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded in quiet agreement.
After the meal, Xu Maoxiu and Manager Wu escorted Cheng Jiao-niang and her maid out. As Immortal’s Abode was seeing off its last customers, a new group came hurrying in.
A young woman entered briskly, followed by a maid and a dejected-looking servant boy. The corridor was narrow, so Xu Maoxiu and Manager Wu, as hosts, quickly stepped aside to make way. But before the party could pass, the door of a nearby private room slid open, and a young man emerged.
“Who do you think you’re fooling? How much money do you even have to dine in a place like this—” the woman snapped at him, her brows furrowed in anger.
“I—I didn’t realize it would be this expensive,” the young man muttered meekly. “I just wanted to make a good impression while asking for a favor…”
“Oh, so you get to build your reputation while I lose mine in front of my father? It’s not even your money, yet you dare spend it so freely!” she retorted, her voice rising.
The young man flushed with humiliation, especially when he noticed Manager Wu and Xu Maoxiu watching.
“Stop shouting—let’s just talk inside,” he urged in a low voice.
The young woman glanced at Xu Maoxiu’s group before stepping inside.
Manager Wu had just moved past their door when it suddenly flew open again.
“Brother Xu?”
A woman’s voice called out from behind, tinged with uncertainty.
Xu Maoxiu stiffened slightly but didn’t turn immediately.
“Is that you, Xu Maoxiu?” the voice pressed, its owner stepping out into the corridor.
The young man followed, his expression darkening further.
“What are you shouting about? You’ve mistaken him for someone else,” he muttered, though his gaze lingered on Xu Maoxiu’s back before narrowing in recognition.
So that’s how it is.
Cheng Jiao-niang observed Xu Maoxiu—no wonder he had subtly turned his head earlier, pretending to casually cover his nose and mouth.
Xu Maoxiu finally turned around, a practiced smile appearing as he faced the couple.
“Brother Xiang, so it’s you,” he said, feigning surprise.
