The summer rain had just passed, bringing a refreshing coolness (Note 1). On the day of Beginning of Autumn, a torrential downpour had persisted since dawn, dispelling the summer heat and ushering in autumn's crispness. By evening, as Wei Caiwei finished testing medicines, the rain showed no signs of abating.
Wei Caiwei hired a carriage home, deliberately instructing the driver to detour through Toutiao Alley to check on Ding Wu's pharmacy.
With the heavy rain halting exterior renovations, work continued indoors with sawing wood and crafting cabinets. The cacophony reached Wei Caiwei even inside her carriage. Next door, the Myriad Goods Trading Company saw little business due to the weather, with shopkeepers and clerks idly drinking tea, cracking sunflower seeds, and chatting—a stolen half-day of leisure.
All was tranquil, with only the steady drumming of rain, utterly unaware that a great net was being cast.
She hoped the Embroidered Uniform Guard would eradicate the White Lotus Sect lair in one sweep, averting the tragedies of her past life.
Wei Caiwei alighted at a tavern on West Drum Tower Street. With Ding Wu recently too busy to cook, she had been dining out.
Pointing at the menu board, she ordered several dishes and settled at a quiet table.
Several tables of patrons pointed and whispered behind her back:
A young scholar in pink robes gestured discreetly, "See that? The charming widow who entangled both Commander Lu and Young Master Wang."
His companion hastily perched a tortoiseshell-frame spectacles on his nose—its thin wires looped behind ears for balance—and squinted, "Her? Utterly plain, dressed shabbier than my maid."
The pink-robed scholar countered, "Brother Wang, your standards are too high. I find her elegantly refined, beyond comparison with vulgar painted dolls."
The bespectacled man snorted dismissively, "Outwardly prim, privately debauched and shameless. One can never judge a heart by its cover."
A squat man at the table had been devouring Wei Caiwei with his eyes since she entered. Though visibly covetous, he sneered, "What chastity can you expect from such a gossip-monger? Even with her Palace female physician title—a virtuous woman doesn't serve two husbands, yet she's had at least three."
Leering behind his hand, he lowered his voice, "They say she's... experienced, surpassing even courtesans in the arts of love. Once a man tastes her, he becomes addicted."
The bespectacled man wagged his head, quoting: "A maiden fair, with supple grace / Wields a sword at her waist to slay the foolish. Though no heads are seen to roll / In secret, she drains your very soul. Commander Lu was wise to cut ties. I saw Young Master Wang at the bun shop this morning—exhausted, dark-circled, stumbling like a ghost drained by some succubus. Must've been up all night with that widow! So young, yet his vitality already sucked dry. He won't live long."
Wei Caiwei felt both anger and amusement. Wang Daxia had simply pulled an all-nighter—of course he looked haggard.
Whatever we do, people will think the worst, she mused.
A waiter announced her order as he served: "Stewed pork ribs with yam! Scallion-fried sea cucumber! Lotus seed and snow fungus soup! One bowl of rice. Your dishes are served, madam."
Hearing this, the table erupted in renewed gossip: "Tsk, all yin-nourishing and kidney-tonifying foods. Seems last night really..."Wei Caiwei had been testing medicines all day and was exhausted. All she wanted now was a good meal. Besides, it was the Beginning of Autumn, the perfect time to build up one's health for winter, so she had ordered extra dishes to nourish herself properly.
But the capital was vast, yet it offered no peace even at a dining table.
At this moment, Wei Caiwei wished she were as strong and skilled in martial arts as Lu Ying, capable of knocking these gossiping men flat with a single punch.
But she lacked such ability. If she acted on impulse and fought back, she stood no chance against a whole table of men and would only end up worse off.
A wise woman knows when to retreat. I'll endure it.
Wei Caiwei took out half a string of coins and said, "Waiter, could you do me a favor? Pack the food into a lunchbox and deliver it to my home. I live at the Wei Residence in Sweetwater Lane just ahead. You'll see it at the end of the street—it's only a short walk away."
Wei Caiwei tipped generously, and the waiter promptly agreed, "Right away, ma'am! I'll fetch the lunchbox now. Take your time, I'll be there shortly."
Wei Caiwei settled the bill at the counter, picked up her umbrella, and left the restaurant.
As she passed the table of the gossiping men, the one in the pink robe stared at her brazenly, his gaze sticking to her chest like a dogskin plaster. He looked every bit the beast in gentleman's clothing.
The bespectacled man covered his nose and mouth, turning his face away as if her mere presence had defiled him.
The short-statured man could have played Wu Dalang on stage without any makeup. As Wei Caiwei passed by, he sneakily stretched out his stubby leg, trying to trip her and make her fall into his arms.
But Wei Caiwei was prepared. Seeing a foot suddenly thrust under her skirt, she thought, This is beyond endurance! and jabbed her umbrella hard onto the offending foot.
"Ah!"
The short man cried out in pain, clutching his foot.
The bespectacled man instinctively flinched at the sound, but upon seeing it was just a woman, he immediately pointed at her and shouted, "You little whore! How dare you hit someone!"
The man in the pink robe blocked Wei Caiwei's path, saying, "A gentleman uses his words, not his fists. My friend is injured. What if he becomes disabled? How will you compensate him?"
"What fine gentlemen you are, using words instead of fists! All your learning has gone to the dogs—gossiping behind people's backs, and this dwarf even dares to trip me with his leg?" Wei Caiwei declared loudly, "Let everyone judge: three grown men bullying a widow—have you no shame?"
As she spoke, Wei Caiwei retreated eastward, toward the main door, planning her escape.
But the bespectacled man and the one in the pink robe pressed closer. The bespectacled man yelled, "Your reputation is already in tatters! Everyone calls you a loose woman behind your back—why shouldn't we say it?"
The pink-robed man added, "Exactly! If you can do those things, why can't we even talk about it? You fly into a rage at a few words and stab someone with your umbrella. Let everyone judge—who's being unreasonable here?"
These two were utterly shameless, turning the accused into the accuser.
Most of the restaurant patrons had "long heard" of Wei Caiwei's reputation—the rumored flirtatious and charming widow. Hearing the commotion, they crowded around to watch the spectacle.
Some patrons, eager for more drama, gathered on the eastern side like a human wall, blocking Wei Caiwei's escape route.
They weren't interested in justice or who was right; they just wanted a show. If Wei Caiwei left, the performance would be over.
Wei Caiwei had nowhere left to retreat.The stocky man clutching his injured foot burned with shame and indignation, pointing at Wei Caiwei as he cursed, "You shameless whore! You've kept enough men to count with a handful of millet! Can't stand being talked about? If you've got no shame left, why fear others' words?"
The bespectacled man chimed in, "Exactly! Young Master Wang passes by your door daily—what filthy business goes on there? Is your front gate paved with pancakes?"
The tavern erupted in laughter at this, the air thick with merriment.
This was classic slut-shaming—as if branding a woman a whore gave everyone license to humiliate her, each person acting like a righteous moral crusader.
Though Wei Caiwei had lived two lifetimes, she'd never faced such direct insult. These men were different from Thousand Household Chen and his son—they hadn't committed murder, weren't heinous criminals, but their petty evils piled up, inflicting deep wounds.
The bystanders' stares and malice were like hidden arrows shot from all directions, impossible to dodge. None fatal, yet each stung sharply.
But she couldn't retaliate against these strangers as fiercely as she had with the Chens. Engaging in a war of words here would only please the onlookers—they wanted the "whore" to lose her temper, to brawl loudly, creating a spectacle to gossip about for a month.
Wei Caiwei refused to stoop to the level of these three vile men, trading vulgar insults.
Escape was her priority. She triggered the mechanism in her umbrella, drawing from its handle a slender, triple-edged, triangular Awl!
The Awl glinted coldly—one thrust would leave a bloody hole.
"Better safe than sorry"—her habit of caution, honed for revenge, had carved her an escape route. She'd never let herself be caught alone and unarmed.
Wei Caiwei brandished the Awl. "You gang up on a widow—have you no shame? Or do you no longer value your lives?"
Seeing her draw a weapon, the watching patrons scattered instantly, no longer blocking her retreat—though they didn't leave the tavern, just kept their distance.
The Awl's cold gleam made the bespectacled man shrink behind the pink-robed man. "Not just a whore, but a shrew too!"
Pushed to the front, the pink-robed man stood closest to Wei Caiwei. Fearful, he raised a chair to shield himself. "Stay back! Stabbing is illegal—a widow like you won't survive a lawsuit!"
Wei Caiwei had no intention of prolonging the fight. Outnumbered, her priority was to leave this den of trouble.
Fearing a sneak attack from behind, she didn't turn her back, keeping the Awl raised and facing the tavern as she retreated step by step toward the door.
Seeing her about to leave, the distant onlookers jeered, "Three grown men cowed by a woman? Are you even men? And you, short-stuff—she stabbed your foot, and you just let her go? What a coward. Bet you're not just short in height—down there must be shorter than my thumb!"
The tavern roared with laughter again.
The stocky man flushed with humiliation, but the heckler was a tall, burly man dressed finely, clearly someone of influence. One look, and the stocky man lost his nerve, not daring to charge and fight.Still easier to bully the delicate little widow. But now the little widow had an awl in her hand, so the short man didn’t dare approach her directly. Instead, he grabbed the wine jug from the table and threw it toward Wei Caiwei.
Wei Caiwei was facing inward while backing toward the door, keeping a close watch on the three lecherous men. When the wine jug flew toward her, she immediately dodged.
With a clatter, the wine jug hit the doorframe.
The short man, unwilling to give up, picked up a chair and hurled it at Wei Caiwei.
Wei Caiwei hadn’t yet steadied herself when the chair came flying at her. The chair was large, and the slender awl in her hand couldn’t possibly deflect it. Just as the chair was about to hit her head, a pair of arms suddenly reached out from behind her. Someone wrapped their arms around her waist from behind, then spun to the left. The chair grazed his back and flew out the door, landing in the heavy rain.
Before the shaken Wei Caiwei could turn to see who it was, she heard the onlooking diners exclaim, “It’s Young Master Wang!”
Author’s Note: The Beicheng keyboard warriors are always on the front lines of gossip. Today is Saturday, so I’m giving out 100 red envelopes. Wishing everyone a happy weekend—first come, first served! Early readers get red envelopes, hahahaha.
Note 1: “The summer rain has just passed, the air is clear and refreshing, / Jade waves ripple, the painted bridge lies flat. / Through the curtains, pairs of little swallows fly gracefully, / On the water, leisurely gulls float lightly.” This poem was written by Emperor Xuande of the Ming Dynasty, Zhu Zhanji, who will be the male lead in my upcoming historical romance, Hu Shanxiang. Pre-orders are now open—everyone, go grab a copy!
Additionally, the insults “the men you keep are as numerous as grains of millet” and “he passes by your door every day, is your gate made of sesame cakes?” are both from The Plum in the Golden Vase.
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