Second Master Fu’s words were exceptionally arrogant. After speaking, the alcohol hit him hard; with a loud clatter, he toppled half the chessboard and slumped over the table, drifting into a deep sleep.
Fang Zesheng watched him for a moment. He raised his hand, concealing two stacked chess pieces in his palm, then rested his arm on the table and slowly tilted his head to lie down, staring at him without blinking.
When sleeping, Second Master Fu gained an indescribable, naive charm. He mumbled unintelligible words in his dreams with a flushed face. Unable to hear clearly, Fang Zesheng leaned his ear closer, listening carefully as he said, “I wore out three pairs of shoes… lived on cold steamed buns for half a month… and you actually hid from me… You really are something!” His voice rose as he spoke, and he suddenly sat up with eyes half-squinted. Fang Zesheng thought he had awakened and was about to avert his gaze when he saw him pointing wildly at the lattice window, drunkenly slurring, “You really are quite capable…”
Having finished, he began to collapse with his face falling straight toward the scattered pieces on the chessboard again. Just as he was about to hit them, a well-defined, jade-white hand steadily caught his forehead, descending with his weight until it rested against the board.
The mute uncle stood at the door. Seeing the lamplight in the room growing dim, he made a slight noise and pushed the door open to replace the wick. As he rounded the screen, he saw the two figures on the wooden couch with one slumped and one sitting across the chess table. Fang Zesheng’s palm was turned upward, cushioned beneath Fu Jingxuan’s forehead, shielding him from the chess pieces.
The wrinkles around the mute uncle’s eyes crinkled as he gestured with a smile: “Second Master is drunk.”
Fang Zesheng nodded, leaning partially against a square pillow.
The mute uncle gestured again with a grin: “Second Master has been greedy for a drop since he was a child; he loved to sneak drinks.”
Fu Jingxuan had a poor tolerance for alcohol yet loved to have a couple of glasses. He couldn’t handle anything too harsh and could only drink sweet wines brewed from flowers or fruit. When he was younger, Cheng Xiqiu disciplined him strictly, telling him to drink more tea and less wine. Fu Shangyi didn’t drink either, claiming it interfered with business so not even a wine jar could be found in the house. Sometimes, when Fu Jingxuan wanted a taste, he would count the days until Fang Zesheng came to visit. Back then, Fang Changru would take Fang Zesheng out several times a year to visit various families. Often, when the magpies perched on the branches, Fang Zesheng would arrive in a plain white brocade robe embroidered with gold, carrying a small pot of sweet wine into Fu Jingxuan’s small courtyard. They would hide together under the pear blossoms, watching as Fu Jingxuan held a teacup and took small, secret sips. The Young Master Fang brought very little wine each time, only enough for a few mouthfuls, leaving Fu Jingxuan to stare at him expectantly while begging him to come back again soon.
It wasn’t that Fang Zesheng was stingy with the wine; rather, Fu Jingxuan had once overindulged and spent the next day with a headache and nausea. He had lain sickly and silent against the stone table, leaving Fang Zesheng so anxious and annoyed that he forbade him from drinking any more.
Now, Second Master Fu’s tolerance had grown and with no one left to restrain him, he naturally drank as much as he pleased.
“Brew a bowl of hangover tea tomorrow morning.”
The wick on the chess table was nearly burnt out. After listening to Fang Zesheng, the mute uncle gestured a nod and asked: “Should I send the Second Master back to the main room?”
Fang Zesheng gave a faint hum of assent and had the mute uncle call for San Bao; together, they supported Fu Jingxuan and helped him back to the main room.
The next day.
Fu Jingxuan climbed out of bed feeling groggy, only finding some energy after grabbing a bowl of ginseng tea by the bedside and gulping it down. San Bao had already prepared breakfast for him, which was a bowl of white porridge and two side dishes. Fearing his hangover would be hard to bear, he had brewed an extra pot of ginseng tea and left it in two tea bowls to cool. Second Master Fu glanced over as he stretched, dressed and washed, rinsed his mouth with a cup of tea, and then headed straight for the study while carrying his porridge bowl and bamboo chopsticks.
It was the third quarter of Sishi[mfn]Sishi is between 9-11am, so it’s around 10:45am.[/mfn], and the sunny sky was clear.
It wasn’t exactly early, but not too late either. He had assumed Fang Zesheng had already eaten, but unexpectedly, the mute uncle had just entered with a tray of dishes and ran right into Fu Jingxuan at the door. Second Master Fu grinned and stepped into the room before sitting down opposite Fang Zesheng. He insisted on sharing the table and even snatched one of his side dishes.
Fang Zesheng’s demeanor was as usual; cold and indifferent, as if nothing at all had happened the night before.
The mute uncle stood to the side, hesitating as if he had something to say to Fu Jingxuan. He raised his hands and gestured a few times but seemed at a loss for how to express it; ultimately, he could only sigh and silently withdraw.
Once Fang Zesheng finished eating, he set down his bowl and chopsticks, reached out to turn his wheels, and slowly moved to the desk.
Fu Jingxuan had finished as well and called for San Bao to clear the table. He was just about to head back for a nap when he heard Fang Zesheng call his name.
This was rather rare. Second Master Fu raised an eyebrow and strolled over while swaying his folding fan.
The desk was as cluttered as it had been the previous night; in the daylight, it was even clearer that ink had been splattered everywhere. Fang Zesheng picked up an ebony weasel-hair brush and, right in front of Fu Jingxuan, wrote a letter of divorce word by word before handing it to him.
Fu Jingxuan took the letter and helped blow on the wet ink. Neither angry nor annoyed, he actually laughed. “I knew it, nothing good ever comes from you calling me of your own accord.”
Fang Zesheng fell silent for a moment before saying resolutely, “There has long been no affection left between us; there is no need for you to stay here and waste your time. If I was too close to you in the past and caused any misunderstanding, then today we severed those ties. From this moment on, let us have no further dealings with each other.”
After listening, Fu Jingxuan nodded along, his smiling eyes curving into crescent moons. He brandished the fresh letter of divorce in his hand and, right in front of him, folded it several times and tore it into fragments.
Startled, Fang Zesheng asked in a heavy voice, “What are you doing?”
With a casual toss, Fu Jingxuan scattered the remnants of the letter across the desk. Leaning forward, he used the rib of his fan to tilt Fang Zesheng’s chin up, regarding him with a sideways glance. “You didn’t think I drank so much that I forgot last night’s chess game, did you?”
“You remember?”
“Of course.” Second Master Fu withdrew his fan and stood up. “Last night you said you didn’t want me wading into these muddy waters; it’s not that I can’t agree to that.”
“However, while I’m in front of you, you can still see whether I’m alive or dead. If I dive headfirst into those muddy waters behind your back, whether I choke or drown remains to be seen.”
Fang Zesheng’s hands, tucked beneath his wide sleeves, curled slightly. After a long pause, he said, “You’re threatening me.”
“Oh?” Fu Jingxuan broke into a wide grin, fanning himself to reveal a row of white teeth while looking every bit like a mountain bandit holding a blade to his own throat. “That depends on whether the Head Merchant is willing to accept such a threat or not.”
