With the conclusion of Princess Boyang’s poetry gathering, news of Chen Shi’ba-niang’s fine handwriting quickly spread.
Ironically, even the Chen family only learned of it when others told them.
Chen Shao looked at the characters written on the paper handed to him. Though a stern father, he couldn’t help but praise them.
“So this is what you’ve been diligently practicing these past two years,” he said.
The sisters kneeling before him giggled.
“Yes, yes, we used to joke that Shi’ba-niang was meditating all day in her room.”
“Father, you don’t know – people used to mock her, saying her poetry wasn’t any good. We’ve been holding back our resentment for so long…”
“Exactly. So what if her poetry wasn’t good? Even if theirs was better, how far could it take them? None of them ever received an appraisal worthy of the Hanlin Academy like Shi’ba-niang did…”
“That’s right, Father – you should have seen their faces, their eyes were about to pop out from shock!”
Chen Shao’s expression grew stern.
“By doing this, you chase after false fame and lose the way of a true gentleman,” he said.
False fame and empty reputation! Those words struck heavily.
The sisters who had been laughing suddenly fell silent, looking uneasy.
Chen Shi’ba-niang lowered her head, bowed respectfully, and answered, “Yes.”
“Father, it wasn’t that Shi’ba-niang did this on purpose. At other times, even if she wrote, it wouldn’t have meant much. Only at Princess Boyang’s gathering would her writing truly matter – so we agreed to go together.”
“Yes, Father, we weren’t trying to seek empty fame. We only wanted to give everyone a surprise.”
The sisters couldn’t help but speak up.
Chen Shao gave a low grunt, frowning.
“Do not use flowery excuses,” he said. “If something is improper, then it is improper.”
The sisters answered meekly and dared not speak further.
Chen Shao lowered his head to look at the writing in his hand. He recalled what Chen Shi’ba-niang’s maid had just told him: the worn-down brush tips, the countless sheets of paper, the ink-blackened brush-washing bowl. He thought, too, of how Chen Shi’ba-niang had hardly gone out these past two years, never slacking even during festivals, and how her lamp was always the last to go out at night – studying more diligently than the sons of the household. His expression gradually softened.
For the young, the temptation to hold back a breath of energy and then stun the world with one brilliant display is indeed hard to resist. Without such temptations, perhaps those grueling, repetitive, and monotonous practices would have been hard to sustain.
Pros and cons, after all.
“Do you practice calligraphy just to shock others?” Chen Shao asked.
Chen Shi’ba-niang shook her head.
“Of course not. I practice because I love it,” she said. “Because I love it, I want to do it well. It’s not for anyone else, only for myself – for the sake of my own heart.”
Chen Shao nodded, his expression softening once more.
“Do not slack off in the future,” he said.
Since their father was no longer angry, the atmosphere in the room eased.
“And also, Princess Boyang wishes to present your writing at His Majesty’s birthday celebration. You must write another piece – not a poem, but a transcription of scripture will do.”
At these words, the other sisters all laughed.
“Father, are you saying our poems weren’t good enough?”
“Do I even need to say it? Don’t you know yourselves?”
“Father, you’re too biased!”
“Now we really regret it. We used to be the ones most learned in the family, and now Shi’ba-niang has stolen all the glory!”
Hearing their banter, Madam Chen, who had just come in from outside, couldn’t help but laugh as well.
It was rare to see her husband and daughters so relaxed together.
Madam Chen entered, and after looking at Chen Shi’ba-niang’s writing, she could not help but lavish praise. The daughters then rose and withdrew.
“You mentioned last time that Lady Cheng might have come to the capital? Why hasn’t she paid a visit? Perhaps we should send someone to check?”
Just outside the doorway, Chen Shi’ba-niang stopped in her tracks, turning back in some surprise.
“No, I asked about it a few days ago. They said she hasn’t come,” Chen Shao replied.
“She hasn’t come… it’s been more than a year without a word. After so long, I can hardly remember what she looks like anymore,” Madam Chen sighed.
“Shi’ba-niang.”
One of the sisters called to her.
Chen Shi’ba-niang quickly came back to herself, answered promptly, and followed along with a smile. The voices of her parents’ conversation inside the room could no longer be heard.
“She hasn’t sent any letters either?” Chen Shao asked again.
Madam Chen shook her head.
“Did something happen?” she asked.
“Do you still remember those deserters who were caught in her shop back then?” Chen Shao said.
Madam Chen nodded.
Of course she remembered. Though they were just a few insignificant deserters, in the end they affected the appointments of military and political posts in the northwest, and even disrupted her husband’s plans, leaving Chen Shao frustrated for quite some time.
“Five of them died in battle,” Chen Shao said.
Madam Chen was greatly shocked.
“Then… then Lady Cheng must be devastated,” she sighed.
Back then, that girl had gone to great lengths to save those five men, which showed just how much she cared about them.
But this too was something unavoidable. Since ancient times, how many who marched to war ever returned? Pitiful bones scattered along the banks of the Wuding River, yet in spring dreams they are still the beloved in the boudoir. The moment they were sent to the battlefield, everyone already knew it in their hearts.
Yet soon after, Madam Chen sensed something was wrong.
Battles in the northwest were frequent, with countless casualties. Though tragic, to the court they were really trivial matters – at most a tally of the dead and wounded. Unless it was a high-ranking general, not even names were recorded. So how was it that news of a few ordinary soldiers had been reported to Chen Shao?
“It seems there was some dispute after their deaths,” Chen Shao said. “Over military merits and rewards.”
It wasn’t unusual for officers to argue over credit and shirk responsibility, but for common soldiers to be caught up in disputes after death – that was truly a first.
“Will she come to you to talk about this matter?” Madam Chen asked.
“I don’t know,” Chen Shao said, shaking his head.
In truth, he shouldn’t even have known about it. Such trifling matters would never be formally reported. But Zhou Fengxiang, perhaps remembering that he had once mentioned those deserters, passed the news to him privately.
Yet to step in and contend for merit on behalf of a few dead soldiers – this was something he, as a minister, really could not do. If he were to speak up, the matter would no longer be about the rewards of just a few common soldiers.
What’s more, this had been a great victory – something both the emperor and he himself had long yearned for, something that delighted them to see. To step forward at such a time and raise issues that might turn joy into discontent – that was not something one could do on a mere impulse; the stakes were far too high.
If Madam Cheng really did come to him, he feared his answer would not satisfy her.
Thinking on it, it was rather strange: ever since she had saved his father and he had paid her for it, in almost everything else afterward, they seemed always to stand opposed.
“You’re overthinking,” Madam Chen said gently, watching the furrow in her husband’s brow. “This is something beyond anyone’s control. To be fair, those who die in battle all deserve merit, but how could everyone be rewarded? There will be grief and sorrow, yes – but I don’t believe Lady Cheng is so unreasonable.”
Chen Shao shook his head.
“Who can say? That Lady Cheng always leaves one feeling a bit uneasy,” he said.
Madam Chen laughed.
“I say it’s just you worrying too much. After all, she is only a girl – what could she possibly do?” she said.
Seeing her husband about to speak, she quickly continued:
“I know, you’re going to bring up the deserters again. But that was only a coincidence. She pleaded everywhere to save them – it was only natural. Who could have expected Zhang Jiangzhou to blow the matter up so greatly?”
Not only the deserters – she’d hardly been absent from matters of killing and arson either…
Chen Shao shook his head. No matter how he reasoned, he couldn’t quite settle the unease in his heart.
This time… would that girl really not stir up trouble again?
Meanwhile, Master Zhou was also interrogating Zhou Liu-lang.
“Did she ever tell you exactly what to do?” he asked anxiously. “How could she just leave again?”
“No,” Zhou Liu-lang answered gloomily.
“How can that be?” Master Zhou paced back and forth, his expression filled with worry. “If nothing is done, then all the things you did for her in the northwest will have been for nothing!”
“Father, what I did was my own business – it has nothing to do with anyone else, and it wasn’t for anyone,” Zhou Liu-lang retorted, eyes wide.
“Whether it was for you or for her, the fact is you’ve made enemies,” Master Zhou shot back, glaring as well. “And once you’ve made enemies, you must pull them up by the roots. Otherwise, either they’ll destroy yours, or you’ll have to destroy theirs. How can you just do nothing and pretend nothing ever happened?”
Pull them up by the roots?
Zhou Liu-lang let out a breath.
For that girl, of course it would mean destroying someone else’s roots.
“What exactly did she ask you to help her with?” Master Zhou pressed again, returning to his first question.
“Nothing at all. I haven’t even seen her… ever since that day, I haven’t seen her,” Zhou Liu-lang answered gloomily once more.
“She asked that Qin boy to help her buy a burial plot, yet somehow you have nothing to do with it?” Master Zhou demanded, eyes wide.
That’s a question I’d like to know the answer to as well!
Zhou Liu-lang could no longer hold back and leapt to his feet.
“And where exactly has she gone?” Master Zhou asked again.
“I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know,” Zhou Liu-lang replied irritably, flinging his hand as he walked off.
“I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know – listening to you, one would think you were an outsider, while that lame Qin boy is her real brother!”
Master Zhou’s voice came from behind, making Zhou Liu-lang quicken his pace.
That hateful, wretched girl!
He didn’t care what she was doing, nor where she had gone, and he certainly wouldn’t go asking Qin Shi’san about it!
The rain had begun in the early morning, and by noon it had grown heavy, splashing across the flagstone street. In a small town ten li outside the capital, only one man hurried along the street, stopping before a rather shabby shop.
“Boss, boss, bring me some wine!” the man shouted as he stepped inside, taking off his bamboo hat.
A thin, wiry man came out from the back and waved him off.
“No more, no more – go somewhere else,” he said.
The newcomer was quite surprised.
“Lu Laosi, are you closing this tavern down? Haven’t found a buyer yet, and already stopped brewing?” he asked.
Lu Laosi spat.
“What nonsense are you cursing me with? Our wine sells just fine,” he said. “It’s not that we’ve stopped brewing – it’s that we’ve already sold out.”
Sold out?
“Your tavern’s wine could actually sell out?” The newcomer was even more astonished.
This place was close to the capital, where fine wines were plentiful. A small tavern like Lu Laosi’s couldn’t match the quality of those proper establishments, and its prices weren’t much cheaper than the government-run breweries either – after all, the brewing costs weren’t low. Business hadn’t been very good, with most of the wine sold to poor locals in the area, often half sold and half given away. Since last year, people had already been saying he was going to shut down.
“Not only has what I have now sold out, even the next ten days’ worth has already been sold,” Lu Laosi snorted.
The man looked at him as if he were mad. He must be crazy with dreams of getting rich.
“I’ve said all along that my wine is never watered down, the flavor is pure. You lot just didn’t recognize its worth. Now you want to drink it, but you can’t get any,” Lu Laosi said smugly, watching the man walk out.
The man quickly disappeared into the rain – it was unclear whether he had heard or not. Soon after, two others came in, both wearing oilskin raincoats and bamboo hats.
“Boss, is the wine ready?” they asked.
At the sight of them, Lu Laosi’s smile spread wide like a blooming chrysanthemum.
“All ready, all ready,” he said, nodding and bowing. Tilting his head, he listened carefully: beyond the drumming rain, he heard the sound of a carriage stopping at the door. He immediately hurried forward. “My lady, please.”
With his head lowered, he saw only the hem of a lady’s skirt pass slowly before him. When the others had gone in, surrounding her, Lu Laosi finally dared to lift his eyes, watching the swaying figure of the lady holding up an oilskin umbrella as she walked toward the back courtyard.
Whose young lady was this, to be so fond of wine that she had taken over the tavern and all its stock for her own pleasure?
