Fang Zesheng’s fingers curled slightly. Before Fu Jingxuan could read even two lines of the new page, he calmly closed the storybook, his expression showing no hint of anything unusual at all.
Fu Jingxuan leaned by his ear for a moment, then stood up and walked to the desk before pulling over a chair to sit down.
The two sat facing each other in silence for a while. Fang Zesheng’s hair was unbound, and a black cloak draped over him as he sat in his wheelchair. In a calm, cool voice, he asked, “What are you doing here?”
Fu Jingxuan replied, “Why are you here? What are you doing here? Do you have nothing else to say upon seeing me? We are, after all, old acquaintances. Won’t you reminisce a little?”
“Reminisce?” Fang Zesheng said. “Second Young Master and I have only met a few times; it hardly qualifies as reminiscing.”
His tone was distant, stubbornly reducing their past acquaintance to a few brief encounters and distancing their relationship. Had anyone else been sitting across from him, they likely would have slammed the table and left in a huff already; after all, not everyone can stomach having their warmth met with such cold indifference. But Fu Jingxuan was different; he still smilingly handed him a pair of chopsticks.
When he didn’t take them, he simply placed them down in front of him.
The steamed chicken was light and didn’t feel greasy at all when paired with white porridge. A few shreds of chicken mixed into the porridge couldn’t be called an exquisite delicacy, but it was still quite palatable. Fu Jingxuan had long been used to adding a bit of sugar to everything; as he ate, he gradually grew accustomed to the taste. By the time his bowl was empty, Fang Zesheng remained cold and detached, clearly unwilling to share a table with another.
Fu Jingxuan said to himself, “The year before last, the Tao family held a Tea Tasting Convention and invited families from all around to Yizhou. I was once again dragged along by my eldest aunt to keep her company, following the Tao family’s young grandson as he wandered through the famous Rongchang Lane. You must have been to Rongchang Lane; it stretches ten miles, all lit with red lanterns, most beautiful at night. Scholars would indulge in wine and tea competitions, and there were beauties sitting on flower boats, leaning against the railings as they played and sang, their soft melodies tugging at the heartstrings.
“Oh, right,” Fu Jingxuan continued, “I also encountered something interesting.”
Fang Zesheng showed no interest, merely watching him with a steady, weighty gaze, waiting to see when he would leave.
Second Master Fu’s skin was incredibly thick; he acted as if he couldn’t read the other party’s expression at all. “That day, the tea houses in Rongchang Lane held a tea competition. Whoever took first place could spend a romantic evening with the courtesan on the flower boat. They said that the courtesan was a heavenly beauty, enticing even the tea stall owners dozens of miles away to come and compete. I looked at the tea cakes; they were all nothing but coarse, old bamboo husks. There was no way to compare them, so everyone just claimed their own water was superior, saying each batch was sweet spring water fetched thousands of miles away on a spiritual mountain. Yet, unexpectedly, once the tea water boiled, it all tasted the same; no one could distinguish whether it was mountain water or well water.
“The stalemate lasted for quite a while until someone spoke up, saying the source of the shallow river before them was a certain spiritual mountain and that taking river water could substitute for mountain water to surely clinch the win! And guess what happened? Over a hundred people jumped into the river at once to fetch water, scaring the courtesan so much she clutched her pipa and fled in panic, not daring to show her face for days, hahahaha!”
When brewing tea, mountain water is considered the best, river water middling, and well water is the least desirable. Ordinary households mostly use well water for their tea. While the quality of the tea leaves is certainly important, in a tea competition; beyond noting how long the froth clings to the inner walls of the cup after whisking, the ultimate judgment comes down to the color of the tea water. Pure white is the victor, while clear yellow is considered mediocre or poor; this has a great deal to do with the quality of the water.
“However, few people nowadays can brew a pure white tea water, even the Tao and Hu families…”
“Are you finished?” Fang Zesheng spoke, cutting off Fu Jingxuan’s laughter. “If you are finished, then go back.”
The order to leave was blatant. Fu Jingxuan immediately fell silent, put down his chopsticks, and turned to walk out the door.
When the mute uncle entered, the porridge on the table was already cold. He moved to clear it away, but Fang Zesheng stopped him. “You heard him.”
Having served him for many years, the mute uncle understood his sudden remark and nodded.
“He took me on a trip to Yizhou, yet I drove him out.” As he spoke, he lowered his eyes, looking at his two useless legs hidden beneath his long robe. “It’s better that he left. My ties with him were already severed…”
“Eh, Young Master! Young Master, where are you going?” San Bao’s surprised shout drifted in from outside the window, sounding like a bird returning home.
He didn’t hear Fu Jingxuan respond, but the footsteps outside were hurried, lacking their usual leisurely composure; he was likely angry.
Fang Zesheng’s expression remained calm as he avoided the sunlight streaming through the window. He reached out to open the locked box on the desk. Inside was the jade pendant he had placed there not long ago. Before he could take it out, a loud bang echoed as the study door was kicked open. It wasn’t hard to guess who it was. Panic seized Fang Zesheng’s hand, and he hastily shoved the jade back inside. With a clack, the jade struck the box, the sharp sound making Head Merchant Fang’s heart ache with worry. He couldn’t take it out to check for damage, so all he could do was press his hands firmly onto the lid. He watched as Second Master Fu walked in humming a little tune with a bundle slung over his shoulder and a quilt cradled in his arms.
Fang Zesheng said, “Why haven’t you left?”
Fu Jingxuan asked, “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.” Fang Zesheng moved his hands away and said expressionlessly once more, “If you wish to return to Jiangling, let Uncle Zhou escort you. The journey is long; take more silver—”
“Are you worried about me?” Fu Jingxuan leaned against the desk over his quilt, asking with utter shamelessness.
Fang Zesheng’s expression was cold as frosty. Beneath his wide sleeve, he gripped his numb thigh tightly as he turned his head away.
Fu Jingxuan chuckled before glancing at the cold porridge by Fang Zesheng’s hand. Unlike when he had left, the porridge had clearly been sampled; his heart gladdened. He sauntered behind the screen, tossed his quilt onto the wooden couch, and reclined. Fang Zesheng frowned. “Did I not tell you to go back?”
Fu Jingxuan pillowed his head on his hands and crossed his legs. “Haven’t I come back? We are husband and wife now; where the husband goes, the wife follows, and as the husband is righteous, the wife is submissive. Since my husband is sleeping in the study, how could I have the heart to enjoy a soft pillow and a high bed all by myself?”
“You…” Fang Zesheng was momentarily at a loss for words. He wanted to speak harshly, but ordering Fu Jingxuan out that door had already been his harshest effort. Just as he was considering how to drive him away, he saw the man nimbly stroll back over, raising an eyebrow. “‘You’ what? You are my home now; naturally, I must return to your side.”
Second Master Fu was a natural at playing the rogue, remaining stubbornly in the study the entire morning.
He ignored the cold glares and turned a deaf ear to the icy tone. He leaned against the window watching the birds on the branches with his eyes half-squinted, even critiquing them until he had forcefully paired off two yellow-tailed orioles as a married couple. By all appearances, he was the very picture of an idle, profligate young master.
San Bao’s joy had been for nothing; he stood outside the window sighing in disappointment. Although the courtyard where Fang Zesheng lived was large, there was not a single extra person besides the mute uncle and the two newly arrived master and his attendant. The Head Merchant had just gotten married yesterday, which should have been a major event in the estate, yet not only was there no one to offer congratulations, but not a single servant had even come to check in. San Bao curled his lip in dissatisfaction while looking around the sprawling courtyard and not knowing what to do. He could only huddle next to the mute uncle to chat, but the mute uncle couldn’t speak, and San Bao also couldn’t understand his gestures. In the end, the mute uncle found a tree branch and squatted by the base of the wall to write. What little ink San Bao had in his belly had long been eaten along with his breakfast eggs; he didn’t recognize many characters and scratched his head in frustration.
The little bird perched on the branch stayed for a moment before flapping its wings and flying away. Fu Jingxuan shifted his gaze before his eyes falling on the words the mute uncle had written.
In the third year of Juan’an: fire burned, choked by smoke.
San Bao stumbled over the words as he read them aloud, then exclaimed in surprise, “Was your voice made hoarse from smoke?”
the mute uncle nodded, offering a silent affirmation.
Fu Jingxuan had heard rumors of this. Fang Changru and his wife, Xie Junlan, perished in an accidental fire eight years ago. It was said to have happened in the warehouse where the Fang family stored their fresh tea; as it happened, they had brought Fang Zesheng along that day to take stock of the inventory. As luck would have it, the weather was parched and dry, and the stock in the warehouse spontaneously combusted. Natural disasters are hard to prevent; as regrettable as it was, one could only accept fate. It was a pity for Fang Zesheng; during that great fire, his legs were crushed and broken beneath heavy, collapsing beams. Fang Zesheng was born into a family of tea masters; at one year old he could already recognize tea, by two he could distinguish its flavors, and at five, he astonished a tea-tasting assembly by identifying a hundred varieties blindfolded, naming each one and even describing how it was produced. Though his temperament had been a bit proud then, it was the flamboyant manner a youth ought to have. By all rights, his life should not have turned out like this; he should have taken over the Fang family with dignity and rightfully become the head of the four great families, rather than sitting in a wheelchair with nothing but an empty title as he did now.
Fu Jingxuan turned back, pulling the fan from his lower back and leaning against the window frame. He had always felt that that fire was suspicious. Fang Changru had been in business for many years and only produced fresh tea; the newly picked buds were vivid green and moist. It took dozens of processes, including fixing, rolling, drying, pressing, and finally molding and carving, to produce a single tea cake. Before being made into cakes, the fresh buds sent by the tenants should have all been stored in the warehouse; no matter how parched the weather is, they absolutely would not have suddenly erupted into a blaze so fierce it left no chance for escape. Any talk of natural disasters or accidents was likely just a convenient explanation tossed to the public; the true reasons were probably known only to the one who set up the fire.
Fu Jingxuan surmised that, nine times out of ten, the person who set the fire was…
At that moment, the study door opened. Fu Jingxuan and Fang Zesheng looked up simultaneously to see a luxuriously dressed woman walk in; it was none other than Madam Wang, who had sat in the seat of honor as the wedding witness yesterday. Fang Zesheng had ignored Fu Jingxuan for quite some time, but now he set his book aside and said in an even, indifferent tone, “Come here and push me into the hall.”
In the flower hall, the mute uncle had already prepared the tea. Madam Wang sat opposite Fang Zesheng and asked with concern, “It rained a few days ago; did your legs ache?”
“Thank you for your concern, Aunt,” Fang Zesheng said respectfully. “They do not ache. There has long been no sensation in them.”
Madam Wang’s face showed pity. “I know, but in my heart, I still hope for your recovery, for the day you might stand again. Why not have Physician Chen come and take another look?”
Fang Zesheng did not refuse. “I will follow your arrangements, Aunt.”
“Then I shall have him come tomorrow,” Madam Wang said. She then looked at Fu Jingxuan standing behind the wheelchair and instructed a maid to bring a round stool for him to sit on. It seemed the Liu clan had indeed coordinated with her; seeing a grown man married into the family, she showed not the slightest hint of surprise and remained quite polite.
Fu Jingxuan intended to sit, but Fang Zesheng raised a hand to block his path, so he had no choice but to remain standing.
Madam Wang did not insist and picked up her teacup to start making small talk. “Are your father and first aunt in good health?”
Fu Jingxuan said, “They are both well. Thank you for your concern, Shopkeeper Wang.”
“Shopkeeper Wang?” Madam Wang held the tea lid, her pinky slightly raised as it trembled faintly. She lingered over the title with a subtle, unreadable smile before setting the teacup back down.
Fu Jingxuan asked, “Is something wrong?”
“Haha, it’s nothing,” Madam Wang said kindly. “It has been many years since I’ve heard someone address me that way; it’s a bit refreshing.”
Fu Jingxuan looked as if he had just realized his mistake and apologized repeatedly. “My apologies, Madam Wang. I was negligent just now. It’s all my first aunt’s fault; she made me forget to change how I address you.”
Madam Wang asked, “How is Madam Cheng to blame?”
Fu Jingxuan said, “Since I was a child, I always heard your name from First Aunt’s lips. She said Shopkeeper Wang is skilled in business and truly a heroine among women. This time, before we came, she repeatedly instructed my elder brother to seek your advice, as he is, after all, the one who will take over the business in the future.”
Madam Wang covered her face and laughed. “Madam Cheng flatters me; she is the one who truly knows how to manage a household with skill.”
After exchanging a round of pleasantries on his first aunt’s behalf, Fu Jingxuan added, “I am a newcomer and do not know the rules. I hope for your kind guidance in the future, Madam.”
Madam Wang glanced at Fang Zesheng. “Silly child, the rules belong to the Fang family, not to me. I am merely an outsider with a different surname; everything inside and outside this household still answers to Zesheng. Now that you are with him, you must help him manage the family affairs in the future.”
Fang Zesheng had no desire for the two of them to converse further and cut in. “Aunt, what are you saying? Thanks to your care all these years, a cripple like me would probably have squandered the family estate long ago.”
“Aiya, ‘cripple’ this, ‘cripple’ that; how unpleasant,” Madam Wang said, quickly changing the subject. “Let’s not speak of that. Cui’er, give the account book to Zesheng to look over.”
Cui’er hesitated for a moment before reluctantly pulling an account book from her robe.
“This is?”
“These are five thousand square tea cakes ordered by Lord Prefect Feng. He said he is heading to the capital soon and wants to bring them as gifts for his colleagues. Besides the square tea bricks, there are also several hundred newly carved lotus cakes intended for the high officials in the capital to cultivate relationships.”
Fang Zesheng flipped through it casually and handed the book back, saying indifferently, “A small matter like this can be handled by you, Aunt.”
Madam Wang said, “My handling it is one thing, but you are the head of the household. Whether stock is going out or coming in, you must be kept informed.”
Fang Zesheng said, “It is no matter; I trust you, Aunt.”
Madam Wang brushed the tea lid, feigning a playful tone. “You truly trust me?”
“Naturally.”
“Then I can rest easy. You should rest well today; I will come to see you another day.” Having said that, she rose to leave. Fu Jingxuan intended to see her out, but once again, Fang Zesheng raised his hand to block his path. This time, Fu Jingxuan seized the opportunity to catch his wrist, whispering a low, “It’s fine.”
As noon approached and the warm sun shone high, Fu Jingxuan escorted Madam Wang to the courtyard gate. He heard her say, “Second Young Master Fu is clever. I recall your skill in identifying tea was once on par with Zesheng’s.”
Fu Jingxuan kept his hands behind his back, the fan clicking up and down between two fingers. “Hardly, I’m still a long way from Fang Zesheng.”
Madam Wang remarked, “It is a pity for your talents. Your father raised you all these years and never noticed?”
Fu Jingxuan didn’t play dumb either; he spoke candidly. “My father is but a country bumpkin; he cannot match Madam Wang’s keen insight.”
“Haha, your father is no ordinary country bumpkin.” Madam Wang’s eyes were bright as if she could see right through a person. She laughed. “How many fools are there in business? Could such a man who can tether Liu Erniang, coax Cheng Xiqiu, and cling to Old Man Cheng to firmly establish a foothold among the four great families, be a useless waste?”
The implication was clear: Fu Shangyi was a shrewd man, and for Second Young Master Fu to have successfully played the fool in front of his own father for all these years, he was undoubtedly the cleverest of them all.
