Chasing Jade (Zhu Yu)

Sunlight streamed in through the doors and windows, illuminating the entire room. The youthful vigor and brightness on the girl's face became even more impossible to suppress as she spoke with an air of natural conviction, "Of course it's a pity. How many Wu'an Marquises has the Great Yin Dynasty produced in its centuries of history?"

Fan Changyu counted on her fingers: "He recaptured the strategic stronghold of Jinzhou in the northern frontier. The twelve prefectures of Liaodong, which had been lost for decades at the cost of countless capable ministers and renowned generals, were also reclaimed by him. Though the Battle of Jinzhou remains controversial, didn't the Central Plains people in the city suffer brutal slaughter when Jinzhou was seized by the Northern Turks?"

"Old General Xie died standing to preserve his dignity, yet the Northern Turks hung his corpse on the city walls. The civil officials condemned him with their writings, denouncing Wu'an Marquis as cold-blooded and cruel. But were the soldiers and civilians who died in Jinzhou sixteen years ago not innocent? How could those officials so lightly dismiss the Northern Turks' crimes with just a few words? Without Wu'an Marquis, who knows who could defend this northwestern territory."

Xie Zheng had heard too many high-sounding condemnations of his actions in Jinzhou. This was the first time someone had spoken in his defense.

A strange feeling arose in his heart, compelling him to reassess the woman before him. "You certainly dare to speak your mind."

Fan Changyu looked at him with confusion: "What officials say is their business. We common people aren't fools. Though Wu'an Marquis may be ruthless in military governance, he's not the monstrous villain those scholars make him out to be. Should we commoners curse the marquis who kills enemies too fiercely, rather than the corrupt officials who exploit the people's blood and sweat? That would take some serious mental deficiency!"

Xie Zheng: "...Isn't his name commonly used to frighten children at night?"

Fan Changyu replied somewhat sheepishly: "My father looked too terrifying when slaughtering pigs. People in town often used his name to scare children too."

Xie Zheng: "..."

He pressed his fingers to his temples, remaining silent for a long moment. Strangely, the resentment and gloom in his heart dissipated somewhat at this moment.

...

At lunchtime, Fan Changyu first lit incense before her parents' memorial tablets. Having heard her mention her father earlier, Xie Zheng glanced at the tablets placed on the altar against the wall in the main hall.

After reading the names clearly, he suddenly asked, "Was your uncle named Fan Da Niu?"

Fan Changyu looked surprised: "How did you know?"

Xie Zheng said, "Your father's memorial tablet."

Glancing at the three characters "Fan Er Niu" on her father's tablet, she immediately understood his meaning.

She explained: "My father's original name was Er Niu, but he got lost as a child and found his way back as an adult. Later, people in town gave him the nickname 'Fan the Tiger,' and everyone called him by that name instead."

Xie Zheng simply nodded faintly. His gaze swept over her mother's tablet and noticed she didn't even have a surname—the name on the tablet simply read "Li Hua," seemingly a casual rural name.

He couldn't help asking: "Were your and your sister's names chosen by someone else?" This couple didn't seem like the type who would come up with names like Changyu and Changning.

As she brought dishes to the table, Fan Changyu said, "No, my mother chose them."

Speaking of her mother, a hint of pride appeared between her brows: "My mother was amazing—she could read and write, and even knew how to blend fragrances and make powders. Other butchers reeked after slaughtering pigs, but our clothes would always be scented with my mother's special blends after washing, never retaining any unpleasant odors."Xie Zheng's cool eyes showed a hint of surprise. "Your maternal grandfather's family was quite wealthy?"

Both literacy and the ability to blend fragrances and make powders were skills not commonly found in ordinary households. To have both combined suggested a family of considerable heritage.

Fan Changyu shook her head. "I never met my maternal grandfather. My mother was someone my father met during his earlier years as a traveling escort. She wasn't a young lady from a wealthy family, just a maid in someone's household."

"Lihua" did indeed sound like a maid's name.

If she had been a maid from an aristocratic family, possessing such skills wouldn't be surprising.

Fan Changyu said, "Unfortunately, I'm not very bright. When I tried learning characters from my mother, reading gave me headaches. I didn't master blending fragrances or making powders either, otherwise I'd have another way to earn money now."

Xie Zheng recalled her swinging a stick to hit someone and remarked ambiguously, "Perhaps you have more talent in other areas."

Fan Changyu nodded in agreement. "I think so too. If I hadn't learned pig slaughtering from my father, I might have already lost the house and land by now, leaving Ning Niang and me to sleep on the streets."

Xiao Changning, struggling to pick up a meatball with her chopsticks, widened her dewy grape-like eyes. "Ning Niang doesn't want to sleep on the street."

Fan Changyu helped her younger sister by picking up the elusive meatball and placing it in her bowl. "We won't sleep on the street. We'll buy a big house in the county town someday."

Only then did Changning relax, continuing her battle with the meatball while chatting intermittently with her sister.

In contrast to the sisters' lively mealtime chatter, Xie Zheng remained silent after picking up his chopsticks, truly embodying "no talking during meals, no speaking while resting."

His table manners were refined, unlike Fan Changyu's.

Slaughtering pigs was physically demanding work, so she naturally ate more than the average woman. She lifted a large bowl to shovel rice into her mouth, and Changning imitated her, nearly burying her face in the rice bowl. The two moved in strikingly similar fashion.

After finishing, they set down their bowls with satisfied sighs, as if the meal had tasted even better for it.

It was the first time Xie Zheng had ever seen women eat like this, and his expression was quite peculiar.

In the afternoon, Fan Changyu asked Zhao Mu Jiang to help repair the broken gate at home while she went to the market with silver to buy pigs. To deal with Fan Da for the wedding, her newly opened butcher shop had been closed for three days. If she didn't reopen soon, all the effort spent building a reputation with her braised offal would go to waste.

Before leaving, Xie Zheng suddenly asked her, "Since your mother was literate, did your family have paper, ink, brushes, and an inkstone?"

Fan Changyu replied, "Yes, do you need them?"

Xie Zheng nodded. "I'd like to borrow them."

Fan Changyu then retrieved the writing materials her mother had bought years ago. Having been stored for so long, the paper had yellowed, the inkstone had a large chip, and the goat-hair brush had frayed into something resembling a broom.

When Xie Zheng saw the writing set placed before him, he paused for a moment before thanking her. It was still better than writing with charcoal on fabric.

Fan Changyu didn't ask why he needed the writing materials, assuming that as a literate person, he might want to practice calligraphy out of boredom while recovering from his leg injury.

After Fan Changyu left, Xie Zheng ground ink and began writing in his room. The ink quality was poor, barely dissolving evenly in water. Suppressing the urge to throw the frayed brush and lumpy ink out the window, he patiently composed an eight-legged essay before Zhao Mu Jiang finished repairing the gate.Fan Changyu asked Zhao Mu Jiang to help sell this Eight-legged essay at a nearby bookstore: "With the spring imperial exams approaching, Eight-legged essays should be selling well in major bookstores. Could you please go to the bookstore and see if they’d accept this kind of essay?"

Zhao Mu Jiang was illiterate, but he could tell that Xie Zheng’s calligraphy was excellent. He exclaimed in surprise, "Young man, so you’re a scholar too?"

Xie Zheng simply replied, "I studied for a few years in my youth. Traveling as a bodyguard gave me some worldly experience. Now that I’m injured and without money, I thought I’d try writing Eight-legged essays to earn some silver."

With the imperial court weakened and unrest in the northwest, these essays, once circulated, could stir up a storm of condemnation against the Wei faction among scholars across the land. That would keep the father and son pair busy, leaving them no time to search for him.

Some messages could also be covertly passed to his old subordinates through these essays.

A Gyrfalcon appearing in town would be far too conspicuous. If discovered by those with ill intentions, it would surely bring trouble.

Hearing this, Zhao Mu Jiang couldn’t help but feel his eyes grow moist. "You’re a good lad. That poor girl Changyu has had a hard life. For her to find you injured in the wild and save you must be fate. Seeing how much you care for her, her aunt and I can rest easy..."

Xie Zheng knew the old man had misunderstood—thinking his desire to earn money was out of concern for the butcher’s daughter. He wanted to explain but couldn’t find a better reason at the moment, so he remained silent.

To Zhao Mu Jiang, this silence was confirmation.

The misunderstanding weighed heavily on Xie Zheng’s mind. Worried Fan Changyu might also misinterpret his intentions, he made a point of acting colder toward her after she returned home. However, his face was usually expressionless, and Fan Changyu was too oblivious to notice anything unusual.

That night.

After making the bed in the northern room and putting her younger sister to sleep, Fan Changyu went to the kitchen to prepare the pork she would sell the next day. Remembering Yan Zheng’s injuries and fearing he might feel cold at night, she filled a brazier with leftover embers from the stove and brought it to him.

Having lived in her room for over a decade, she hadn’t yet broken the habit of entering without knocking. Pushing the door open, she found him once again half-undressed, applying medicine.

This time, however, she didn’t have the luxury of embarrassment—his entire back was smeared with blood, and his white undergarment was stained with it.

Earlier that day, she had offered to help him with his wounds, but he refused. She had assumed his injuries weren’t that severe, never expecting them to be this bad.

Xie Zheng frowned the moment she entered. As he moved to pull his clothes back on, a pair of warm, strong hands pressed down on his shoulders.

The moment their skin touched, a shiver ran through him, and his frown deepened. Instinctively, he tried to push her hand away, but she held him firmly in place, leaving him unable to move.

Xie Zheng’s breath hitched, his beautiful eyes flickering with surprise—whether at the woman’s strength or her audacity, he wasn’t sure. "You—"

"What do you mean, ‘you’? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Is asking for help with your wounds really that difficult for you?"

Seeing the reopened gashes on his back, Fan Changyu didn’t hold back her temper. She couldn’t understand why he was being so stubborn—his wounds kept reopening, and treating them would cost who knew how much silver!

As she sprinkled medicine from the bottle onto his bleeding wounds, she muttered under her breath, "What’s with all the fuss? You’re a grown man!"Xie Zheng's temple twitched violently. The woman's hand on his shoulder hadn't moved away yet, and half his shoulder felt as if it had been branded by a hot iron. His brows furrowed tightly: "Men and women should not touch when giving or receiving things."

Fan Changyu retorted, "I carried you back from the wilderness! Whether we should or shouldn't, we've already been close!"

As soon as the words left her mouth, the entire room fell into silence.

Changyu realized she had misspoken. She usually hated studying the most, yet this man insisted on speaking to her in such a refined manner. Frustrated, she scratched her head: "I didn't mean that I've kissed you... Ah..."

Xie Zheng's eyelid also began to twitch, and he cut her off before she could say anything more shocking: "I know what you mean."

Changyu quickly nodded. "As long as you understand."

Afraid he might misunderstand that she had some intentions toward him, she gritted her teeth and lied against her conscience: "Don't worry, I have no designs on you. I... I still haven't gotten over my former fiancé! After all, we grew up together. He was so handsome and smart—the only one in the entire county to pass the imperial exams. How could I just get over him like that?"

After saying this, Changyu felt goosebumps rise all over her body.

The man before her had an inscrutable expression and only said, "My condolences."

Changyu: ?

Song Yan isn't even dead yet!