“Young Master Hu, please rise.”
What should have been a straightforward decision caused Fang Zesheng to hesitate for a moment, but in the end, it played out exactly as Fu Jingxuan expected. “You and I are of the same generation, so the formalities of master and disciple cannot apply. If Young Master Hu does not mind, you are more than welcome to remain at the Fang residence to study tea. I would not presume calling myself your ‘instructor’ but if there is anything Young Master Hu does not understand, you may ask me directly. I will share everything I know without holding anything back.”
Since this was Hu Yunshan’s goal anyway, he attempted to request a formal apprenticeship twice more, but seeing Fang Zesheng’s firm stance, he said no more and happily accepted the arrangement.
Fang Zesheng gestured for the mute uncle to prepare a guest room for Hu Yunshan, then let out a secret sigh as he watched the man’s retreating back stride out of the flower hall.
Fu Jingxuan heard it and asked in confusion, “Do you really want to take him as a disciple?”
Fang Zesheng immediately shook his head. “No.”
Though his mouth said no, his eyes were filled with regret.
For a moment, Fu Jingxuan couldn’t find the reason. Then, he suddenly recalled the string of words Hu Yunshan had uttered while bowing on the ground, and it dawned on him.
Could it be because of that title, “Mistress”?
Second Master Fu’s lips curled upward slightly as his dark, bright eyes darted back and forth.
At noon, the two returned to the main house to nap for a while.
They opened their eyes at Weishi[mfn]1-3 PM.[/mfn] and went to the study to organize the three stacks of registers that the mute uncle had carried in together.
These registers dated back many years, listing the names of everyone who had served the Fang family since the early days of their tea business; including tea processors, tenant farmers who leased the tea fields, shop assistants and traveling merchants, as well as the accountants, stewards, and servants of the Fang household. Most of these people had served the Fang family for generations, particularly the tenant farmers and tea processors, who followed the Fang family through life and death from one generation to the next.
Throughout the years when Wang Xiuhe held control of the family, all of these people had been driven away. While the original servants of the Fang residence could find work with other wealthy families to make a living, the tenant farmers who followed the Fang family were forced into rent hikes they couldn’t afford. At present, all of the Fang family’s lands were leased to relatives of Prefect Feng, and the tenant farmers brought in were not true commoners but servants of the Feng family’s kin. If even the tenants had no land to cultivate, the veteran tea workers, who held the Fang family’s specialized tea-making skills, were left with nowhere to turn. After all, as long as Wang Xiuhe remained in power with Prefect Feng’s backing, the stewards of other tea houses had to steer clear of them to avoid inviting unnecessary trouble.
Fu Jingxuan sat on the wooden couch in the study flipping through the registers while Fang Zesheng sat opposite him. They sat at a small table with one reading and the other writing, resembling two young boys leaning close together to study in their childhood.
“Chen Wenjiu, tea-pounding worker, West Market East Street Fifth Alley, tenth room of the ‘Earth’ row.”
“Wang Congzhou, tea-steaming worker, fifth house from the left on Third Street of the Ferry Village.”
“Aunt Wu Juan, tea-sealing worker, Pingxi Village three miles outside the city, the first house at the village entrance.”
“Ma Long, this one lives a bit far.” Fu Jingxuan rested his chin on his hand while waiting for Fang Zesheng to finish writing the previous household before saying, “One must cross the Linjiang Ferry; he is a tea processor living on the opposite bank.”
“En.” Fang Zesheng started a new vertical column and wrote down Ma Long’s name. “The Ma family had overseen the ‘Carved Lotus’ cake-pressing process for three generations without a single mistake. It was from their hands that Lady Wang had forcibly taken the techniques back then.”
Fu Jingxuan nodded and flipped through two more pages before picking out the workers who used to be in charge of roasting and threading the tea. “Let’s go visit these six households first. They were all former stewards; if we can persuade them to return, the others will be easy to handle.”
Fang Zesheng gave a soft “en” and set down his brush. Just as he looked up, he saw Fu Jingxuan watching him with a beaming smile.
They were very close, only a fist’s width apart.
Fang Zesheng blinked, his gaze falling on the slight upward curve of the other party’s lips. He felt the urge to lean forward, but after a long pause, he curled his fingers and drew back, pretending to be interested in something else.
Fu Jingxuan knew exactly what he wanted to do with just one look. He thought Fang Zesheng would lean in for a kiss and had even tilted his head up, yet he never expected him to shrink back again. He couldn’t help but find it amusing. After a thought, he said, “There’s a question from earlier that you never gave me a straight answer to.”
Fang Zesheng asked, “Which question?”
“I remember that when we were children, there was someone you liked.”
Fu Jingxuan idly flipped through the book, the aged pages making a continuous huala-huala sound until it finally snapped shut on the table. He proactively leaned forward, forcing Fang Zesheng to meet his eyes. “Who was… that person?”
The scene felt strangely familiar; just a few months ago, when Fu Jingxuan first came to the Fang residence, he had asked him the very same question.
Fang Zesheng remained silent, his adam apple bobbing slightly.
Fu Jingxuan arched an eyebrow and pressed a finger against the adam apple before rubbing it gently as it moved with the other party’s swallowing. “Can’t you tell me?”
Fang Zesheng still said nothing as his dark eyes deepened a shade further.
Fu Jingxuan tried a different tactic, asking indirectly, “Then let me ask you this, how old is that person?”
Fang Zesheng was silent for a moment. His voice, usually as clear as jade, now sounded raspy as if it had been newly sanded. “Twenty… three.”
“Are they married?”
“Already married.”
“In which year and month?”
“The eleventh year of Ju’an, some day in April.”
Second Master Fu’s eyes crinkled at the corners as his finger moved from Fang Zesheng’s throat to his reddened earlobe.
“How do they look?”
“A silhouette like a painting, with eyes like drifting peach blossoms.”
“When did you fall for them?”
“I am not sure.”
“How could you not be sure?”
Fang Zesheng lowered his gaze. “It seems that before I even understood the ways of the heart, he had already taken a step forward and grown there.”
Fu Jingxuan asked in a whisper, “Where is ‘there’?”
Fang Zesheng fell silent again. After a long pause, he followed suit and whispered, “In my heart.”
Fu Jingxuan broke into a wide smile. He withdrew his mischievous finger and sat upright in front of him. “And where is he now?”
Fang Zesheng initially didn’t want to say it aloud, but seeing Fu Jingxuan’s expectant face and not wanting his hopes to fall through, he could only stare at him without blinking, taking his entire being into his sight. “In my eyes.”
