Fu Jingxuan smiled silently while raising his hand in farewell to the guest.
Returning to the room, he happened to catch Fang Zesheng staring blankly at the back of the very hand that had repeatedly blocked him from interacting with Madam Wang. He asked with a smile, “What do you want to eat for lunch?”
Fang Zesheng instantly reverted to his usual cold indifference, called for the mute uncle, and returned to his desk.
They ended up eating lunch together after all, and the evening meal was no exception.
After dinner, having nothing to do, Fu Jingxuan lingered in the study for a short while before heading out with San Bao. He claimed he hadn’t been to Chuzhou for a long time and wanted to wander around. He even pointedly mentioned the time he would return; it was neither early nor late, just in time to finish washing up and head to bed.
The mute uncle gave him a grateful smile. After tidying the kitchen, he boiled several basins of water and poured them into the bath barrel. Once the water had reached the right temperature, Fang Zesheng undressed, revealing his two useless legs covered in gruesome scars. Supported by the mute uncle, he slowly lowered himself into the water.
A faint scent of herbs wafted from behind him. The mute uncle tremblingly pulled a medicinal packet from his robe, but before he could pour it in, Fang Zesheng stopped him. “Put it away. Chen Fu is coming tomorrow.” Chen Fu was the “Physician Chen” Wang Xiuhe had mentioned. He had opened a medical hall in Chuzhou City some years ago and was said to possess superb medical skills yet despite treating Fang Zesheng’s legs for years, he had never managed to make him walk again.
The mute uncle visibly stiffened at the mention of that name. His skeletal fingers shook uncontrollably, and with a heavy thud, he dropped to his knees. His voice, like a broken gong, let out a dry, rasping sob.
Fang Zesheng glanced at him and simply said, “It doesn’t matter.”
With reddened eyes, the mute uncle nodded and gestured: Is the Second Master really staying?
Fang Zesheng lowered his eyes and did not speak again. He looked at his useless legs soaking in the water and shook his head.
At the Jintang Night Market, tens of thousands of lanterns bloomed, reminiscent of Rongchang Street in Yizhou or Yufu Lane in Jiangling; bustling at night just like them. In this dynasty, there was no night curfew, and the streets were even livelier than during the day. With shadow puppets, sugar figurines, and candied fruits on every corner, San Bao carried a bag of glutinous cakes, eating as he walked, truly forgetting the comforts of his hometown.
“Is there anything else you want to eat?” Fu Jingxuan had walked the entire length of the lane from start to finish. He finally came to a halt when they reached the end of the alley.
San Bao’s cheeks were puffed out from being so full. He said while swallowing the pastry in his mouth, “I can’t eat anymore, I can’t eat anymore. Young Master, are we going back?”
Fu Jingxuan looked up and saw a moon like a silver plate hanging in the sky. He casually pulled out a silver ingot, pressed it onto a flower lantern cart, and said, “We’re going back.”
Around Haishi[mfn]9-11PM.[/mfn], the courtyard suddenly stirred with activity. Fang Zesheng had extinguished the lamps early, and the mute uncle had already carried Fu Jingxuan’s bedding back to the main house. Any discerning person seeing the lights out would know what was happening, and Fu Jingxuan was no exception; upon his return, he didn’t enter the study, but he didn’t return to the main room either.
The sounds of “clink-clank” tapping occasionally reached the ear, and the “creak-groan” of wheels rolled incessantly over the stone’s tiles in the courtyard. Lying on the long couch, Fang Zesheng knitted his brows and called for the mute uncle who was guarding the door, but there was no response for a long while. It wasn’t until an hour later that the half-closed door opened. Fu Jingxuan walked in carrying a small lantern, waved it before him, and smiled. “I knew you weren’t asleep yet.”
Fang Zesheng looked at him for a long moment before calmly closing his eyes and saying flatly, “I am asleep now.”
Fu Jingxuan let out a loud laugh. Without warning, he leaned down, slid his arms under Fang Zesheng’s underarms to hook around his rigid back, and hoisted him up.
“What are you doing?!” Fang Zesheng gasped in shock. He struggled to shake off Fu Jingxuan’s hands, but his upper body was firmly held from behind. Though Fang Zesheng spent all year in a wheelchair, his frame was tall and lean; if he truly stood, he would likely tower half a head above Second Master Fu. His bones were heavy; even a burly man might not move him easily, let alone a pampered wealthy young master like the Second Master who supposedly couldn’t lift a finger. “Fu Jingxuan! Let go!”
Fang Zesheng’s icy exterior, which was maintained for days, finally showed a slight crack. With sweat beading on his nose, Second Master Fu used every bit of strength in his limbs to half-drag and half-carry Head Merchant Fang before successfully moving him into the wheelchair.
With his chest heaving, Fang Zesheng was about to demand an explanation when he was forced into a coat.
Fu Jingxuan, who was panting heavily, pushed him step by step to the threshold and swung the door open.
Outside, the moonlight was pale and the breeze crisp, while the chirping of insects sounded delightfully soothing.
A narrow path had been cleared at the bottom of the five steps, and the sides of the walkway seemed crowded with new objects. Fang Zesheng couldn’t see clearly in the dark, only noting rows of colorful flower lanterns hanging in the mid-air.
Fu Jingxuan clapped his hands. As if hearing a signal, San Bao and the mute uncle emerged, each holding a fire starter to light the lanterns.
In an instant, the courtyard became as bright as day. Beneath each lamp stood a small vendor’s cart, laden with a variety of goods, including sweet snacks, windmills, masks, and even a half-blown sugar figurine that hadn’t had its smile shaped before being forcibly bought, leaving it with a pitifully pouting mouth.
The carts were huddled together, displaying a dazzling array of goods. In a distant corner, there was even a fortune-teller banner, and a beggar’s broken bowl had been set on the ground with a few copper coins clinking inside.
Fang Zesheng’s eyes, usually like deep pools, suddenly brightened. His hands gripped the armrests of his wheelchair as he said blankly, “You… why…”
“There’s no reason,” Fu Jingxuan walked over to stand before him while grinning widely. “I just thought the moonlight was quite nice tonight.
“So, I shrunk the Jintang Night Market and moved it here. I wanted to enjoy the moon with you under the lanterns.”
