Outside, Qingya was sweeping. When she saw Jiaoniang come out, she stepped up to carry the basin for her. Jiaoniang refused. “Forget it—you’re all skin and bones. Just sweep the floor.” She walked around to the backyard, swiftly dumped the basin water into the drainage ditch, drew some well water to rinse the towel, wrung it out, shook it, and hung it on a bamboo pole. Then she leaned the wooden basin against the well, clapped her hands clean, and went back inside.
“My grape trellis collapsed again! Looks like I won’t get to eat fresh grapes this year,” Jiaoniang complained to Qingya.
“I just saw that big-nosed fellow and Steward Zhou fixing it up for you,” Qingya said as she swept dust into the basket.
“That big-nosed guy’s name is Shunzi—Wu Shunzi. He’s from Tongzhou,” Jiaoniang wiped sweat from her forehead. “I’m off to change clothes. When you’re done, head to the main hall. Zhou Mu came to show me the household expenses.”
Qingya responded with a nod.
Jiaoniang changed into a clean outfit, still a plain cotton dress, no makeup. She grabbed a palm-leaf fan and, fanning herself without much grace, walked into the main hall. Zhou Mu took one look and grinned, saying, “Madam, this heat’s only getting worse—should I start preparing the ice buckets?”
Jiaoniang’s eyes lit up. She hated the heat the most. “Sure…” But just as she sat down, she changed her mind. “Forget it. It’s still too early.” It’d be wasteful to bring out the ice so soon.
Zhou Mu’s beady eyes spun craftily. “Madam, I was thinking—with the marquis as he is now, he’s probably more afraid of the heat than you. Don’t you think…”
Before he finished speaking, Dingxi Marquis came barreling out—his waist-length wet hair loose and plastered across his face, wearing only a sleeveless pale-silk short shirt and a pair of long trousers, barefoot. At first glance, it was as if a ghost had appeared in broad daylight.
Ah Da and Wang Yong rushed out right behind him, both soaked from head to toe—one clutching his face, the other his nose—now sporting fresh injuries.
Qingya quickly fetched a bowl of goat’s milk. Qian Jiaoniang took it and placed it on the table, then looked at Xing Muzheng and patted the tabletop. The marquis immediately trotted over, sat obediently beside her, and began lapping at the milk with both hands cupped around the bowl.
Qian Jiaoniang frowned as she stared at his large bare feet. “Why did you let the marquis come out without shoes?”
“Madam, it’s not that we didn’t want to—it’s that the marquis wouldn’t let us!” Ah Da said, his face bitter. “Wang Yong and I had just tried to wipe his feet when he kicked each of us—one foot apiece. So, Madam, maybe… maybe you could wipe the marquis’s feet instead?”
Qian Jiaoniang cast a meaningful glance at Ah Da’s swollen cheek and Wang Yong’s still-bleeding nose. The two were unsettled by her look and glanced at each other nervously.
She stepped up and knocked both of them on the head with sharp flicks of her knuckles. “The two of you look like this and still want me to wipe his feet? What are you, brainless? Got duck feathers growing in your skulls?”
Ah Da yelped, unsure whether to clutch his head or his face. “No, no! I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought, if you do it, the Commander won’t kick you. Look, out of all of us, you’re the only one who’s never been hurt.”
“That’s because I run fast!”
“Well… but the Commander’s feet…”
“So what? Not wiping them won’t kill him. Let them air dry.” Qian Jiaoniang glanced over again and waved her hand indifferently.
Big-nosed Wu Shunzi was dumbfounded. This—this was the commander’s wife? She wasn’t even willing to wipe his feet? Just because she was afraid he might kick her, she wouldn’t help him? What kind of marquis’s wife was that?
“Steward Zhou, go fetch your lord’s wooden clogs later—no, forget it, too easy to slip off. Never mind. Shunzi, dry your lord’s hair. If he catches a chill, none of us will have peace! Ah Da, Wang Yong, change your clothes, and when you’re done, clean up the broken furniture outside. See if any of it can still be fixed.”
Ah Da and Wang Yong answered in unison and rushed off. Wu Shunzi, honored to be given such a noble task, trembled with excitement. Qingya handed him a clean cloth, which he received reverently before hurrying to Xing Muzheng and beginning to dry his wet hair.
“Steward Zhou, you may begin.” Qian Jiaoniang returned to her seat, crossed one leg over the other, and leaned back. After all that chaos, she was exhausted.
Zhou Mu handed over two copies of the accounts; Qingya took one. Holding the other, Zhou Mu smiled and said, “Madam, this contains the household expenditures from the past five days for your review.”
“Mhm, read it to me.” Qian Jiaoniang propped her chin on her hand.
The original wife couldn’t read a single word. Zhou Mu had come several times before, and each time the Madam would ask him to read the accounts aloud. He was already used to it. Smiling, he flipped open the ledger. Just as he opened his mouth to begin, a cry rang out—“Oww!” Everyone turned toward the sound. Wu Shunzi was hunched over clutching his belly, still holding the white cloth. The marquis was howling, “Ah! Ah!”
“You fool. Can’t even wipe someone’s hair properly—clumsy oaf!” Qian Jiaoniang stood up in irritation and snatched the cloth from Wu Shunzi’s hand. “You lot really make me worry for your commander—so many soldiers, and not a single clever one among you. Are you hurt?”
“N-no, I’m fine,” Wu Shunzi said through gritted teeth, clutching his stomach.
“If you’re fine, then go sit over there and stop getting in the way.” Qian Jiaoniang waved him off, then wrapped Xing Muzheng’s hair in the cloth and skillfully rubbed it dry. “Steward Zhou, send over some ice buckets tomorrow. Go on, keep reading.”
Wu Shunzi straightened up while clutching his stomach, stealing glances at Jiaoniang’s hands. He thought he was gentler than she was—how had he ended up hurting the commander?
Zhou Mu hurriedly agreed and bowed his head to continue reading from the ledger: “From May 20th to 25th—tables and chairs: 521 taels and 3 qian; Spring Mountain small-leaf tea: 1,500 taels; cloth: 300 taels; pine candles: 250 taels…”
“Steward Zhou, hold on a moment.” Qian Jiaoniang interrupted.
Zhou Mu looked up from the account book, blinking his small eyes. “Yes, Madam?”
Qian Jiaoniang continued rubbing Xing Muzheng’s head through the cloth. “Did you bring the wrong ledger?”
Zhou Mu looked down. “Madam, no, I didn’t.”
“Then why are you reading the same entries as before?”
“Huh?”
Still wiping Xing Muzheng’s head, Jiaoniang turned to Qingya. “Go to my room and find the last ledger Steward Zhou brought over. And while you’re at it, bring the marquis’s shoes too.”
Qingya nodded and strolled into Jiaoniang’s room. A moment later, she returned, followed by Ah Da and Wang Yong, now changed into clean clothes. They carried Xing Muzheng’s square-toed shoes, with a foot towel draped over one of their wrists.
“Smart now, aren’t you? Madam just asked for the shoes—go on, take them to her.”
Ah Da lit up and hurried over to the main hall, grinning as he held out the shoes to Jiaoniang.
Jiaoniang gave him a sideways glance. “What are you staring at me for? Put the shoes on the marquis.”
Ah Da’s face immediately fell. He took a deep breath, looking like he was going to his execution, and bent down while babbling, “Marquis, let this humble one put your shoes on—please don’t get angry, alright?”
Jiaoniang couldn’t take his fussing anymore. She grabbed the foot towel and shoes, wiped the marquis’s feet with one hand and slipped on the shoes with the other—all quick and efficient in one go. “What’s so hard about that? Look at you, acting like a coward.” She threw the towel into Ah Da’s arms.
Ah Da scratched his head and gave a sheepish smile, relieved to have survived unscathed.
Qingya stepped up beside Jiaoniang. “Madam, I’ve brought the old account book.”
“Then read the entry about the pine candles from last time.”
Qian Jiaoniang gestured for her to stay further away from Xing Muzheng—last time she’d gotten bumped, she was black and blue across her back. The girl’s body was delicate.
Zhou Mu was a little surprised—this maid could read?
Qingya obediently stepped to the other side. She flipped open the ledger, scanned it carefully, and read aloud, “Pine candles, 250 taels.”
Qian Jiaoniang asked, “And when was that?”
“May… 19th.”
Qian Jiaoniang turned to Zhou Mu. “See? Isn’t that a duplicate?”
Zhou Mu grinned, showing his teeth. “Madam, it’s not a duplicate. That was last time’s purchase—this is this time’s. The price just happens to be the same.”
“Oh? Then tell me—why did you buy all those candles?”
“This… well, for use, of course.”
Qian Jiaoniang tugged the corner of her lips. “Oh? I thought you were going to eat them.”
Zhou Mu gave a dry laugh. “Madam jests.”
“I jest? Sounds more like your account is the real joke.”
Zhou Mu looked puzzled. “Madam, I truly don’t understand what you mean.”
Qian Jiaoniang spoke slowly, “Your act of playing dumb is really getting out of hand. Candles on the street cost thirty copper coins per pair. And yet you’re telling me you spent five hundred taels on candles in just a few short days? If you weren’t eating them, were you burning them for firewood?”
“Madam, you can’t calculate it like that. The candles in the marquis’s residence are far superior to those on the street!” Zhou Mu still wore a smiling face, as if explaining to someone unfamiliar with the world.
Qian Jiaoniang said, “Yes, they’re better—but let’s say I generously count each one at 150 copper coins. That means one tael of silver can buy 20 candles. With 250 taels, you get 5,000 candles. Two batches of 250 taels—that’s 10,000 candles! In my courtyard, even with the good candles, we use maybe ten in one night. The marquis stays in my courtyard, and so does Chou’er. That just leaves Feng Yuyan’s courtyard…”
Xing Muzheng’s parents had both passed, and he had no siblings. The only household members aside from Jiaoniang and Xing Pingchun were the yet-to-enter equal wife whose wedding had been delayed due to a funeral.
“Let’s say that shut-in Feng Yuyan uses 50 a night—no, I’ll be generous and say 100. As for the servants, altogether there are at most a hundred people. If I give each of them two candles per night, that’s 200. Add them all up—that’s 310 candles per night. The patrolling guards are Lord Li’s men from the military camp—their expenses aren’t covered by the marquis’s household. So I ask you: in five days, how could we possibly need more than 1,550 candles? But you bought 10,000?”
Qian Jiaoniang rattled it all off in one breath. Not only Zhou Mu, but everyone in the hall was stunned. Even Xing Muzheng looked surprised—Jiaoniang could calculate?
The madman suddenly let out a shriek, breaking the heavy silence in the main hall.
“Madam, I was just… taking advantage of a good price and stocked up a little extra…” Zhou Mu’s smile froze on his lips. Sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled down the side of his face.
“You’ve read me this account five times now, and every time that candle expense is there. If I ordered the storeroom opened right now, we ought to see piles of candles stacked like mountains, shouldn’t we? And isn’t it strange? This is the marquis’s household, not some wandering merchant shop—surely we have regular deliveries from a candle supplier? Steward, the way you’re managing this house is truly eye-opening.”
“T-this… this is from the supplier!” Zhou Mu wiped his sweat, suddenly recalling something and latching onto it.
“Oh? Then why is the supplier delivering every other day, and you handing over silver every other day? Which supplier is this—are they contracted to deliver monthly? Half-yearly? Annually?” Qian Jiaoniang fired off questions like a barrage. “And the furniture—521 taels and 3 qian? I remember last time it was 1,003 taels. Sure, the marquis breaks a few tables daily, but the ones sent to me are all ordinary quality because I don’t want him breaking the nice ones. He hasn’t broken nearly as many as you’ve claimed to have replaced! Where are all those tables and benches? Should I go check myself?”
With each question, Zhou Mu’s head drooped lower, until by the time she finished, he was practically bowing into his own chest.
“This year’s rainfall in Chunshan was low, and the spring tea harvest was halved. The entire yield was bought up by the imperial merchants. So this 1,500 taels’ worth of Chunshan tea you bought—who did you buy it from? The imperial family?” Qingya added from the side.
Qian Jiaoniang raised her brows, slammed the table, and shouted clearly, “Zhou Mu! You’ve got some nerve!”
Zhou Mu collapsed to the floor with a thump, limbs sprawled, the iron shackles clinking noisily. He was done for.
The mad marquis suddenly burst into laughter, mimicking Qian Jiaoniang’s table-slap—bang bang bang—each louder than the last, until finally crack! the table split clean in two and collapsed in the middle.
Qian Jiaoniang: “……” He wins.
