Chapter 43: Someone's Here
As soon as the sun rose, fiery clouds rolled across the horizon. The scorching, bright sunlight cast a glaring whiteness over everything.
Zhao Ling leaned against the headboard with a bundle propped behind his back, reading A Thousand Household Sayings , a book Fu Tingyun had somehow acquired the day before. Fu Tingyun sat at the large round table in the outer room, flipping through Annotations on the Four Books , while Mo Yi practiced martial arts in the backyard, his occasional vigorous shouts accentuating the surrounding tranquility.
What name should I choose?
Strength, perseverance, simplicity, reticence—these are close to benevolence.
Picking one of these characters for a name... but that child comes from humble origins, and these words are too solemn and rigid—not quite suitable.
A noble man is dignified but not arrogant; a petty man is arrogant but not dignified... "Dignified" also carries the meaning of peace and safety. After great hardship, all one seeks is peace and stability. That’s a good name!
As Fu Tingyun pondered, she couldn’t shake the feeling that a gaze, tinged with curiosity, was faintly lingering on her. But whenever she looked up, it vanished without a trace.
The only people in the room were her and Zhao Ling...
She glanced toward Zhao Ling.
He sat there quietly, absorbed in his book.
His thin face was calm and serene, like moonlight bathing the courtyard, exuding an unshakable, unhurried composure.
Fu Tingyun felt a twinge of shame.
It couldn’t be him, could it?
The way he looked, he didn’t seem like the type to peek at others!
Besides, what reason would he have to spy on her?
She lowered her head again.
Thinking back to the words she had blurted out last night... she couldn’t afford to act impulsively anymore. She had to think twice before speaking. Otherwise, she’d only make a fool of herself again.
That probing gaze immediately returned.
Fu Tingyun frowned and looked up once more.
The room was silent, save for the faint rustling of Zhao Ling turning the pages of his book.
For a moment, she was lost in thought.
"What’s wrong?" Zhao Ling suddenly looked up, his gaze clear and bright, like the gentle glow of moonlight.
Fu Tingyun couldn’t help but feel guilty.
She had just suspected him...
"I feel like someone’s watching me," she muttered, "but I can’t find anything..."
"Is that so?" Zhao Ling set his book down expressionlessly, his brow taking on a stern edge. "I’ll get up and take a look," he said slowly, his voice more deliberate than usual, pushing himself up to get out of bed.
"Maybe I’m just being paranoid. You know, that little rascal came again last night to steal food!" Fu Tingyun hurriedly stopped him. "Besides, Mo Yi is downstairs!"
If someone really had gotten in, and even Mo Yi couldn’t stop them, then Zhao Ling, injured as he was, would be no match either. Instinctively, she sensed no malice in that gaze. There was no need to stir up trouble... Zhao Ling could be quite temperamental at times.
But she couldn’t say that to him—it might wound his pride.
Zhao Ling let out an "Oh" and didn’t insist.
Fu Tingyun exhaled in relief.
She poured him a cup of cool boiled water. "You’ve been reading for so long—do you want to rest for a bit?"
Zhao Ling drank the water and handed the cup back to her. "Alright. I’ll lie down for a while."
Fu Tingyun helped him settle in.
He asked her, "What were you thinking about just now? You seemed so absorbed."
Was I that absorbed?
Fu Tingyun wondered.
She hadn’t even noticed."Do you remember that woman Zheng Sanniang, Ninth Master?" She closed the book and placed it beside Zhao Ling's pillow. "The one I gave two steamed buns to," she said, sitting on the stool by the bed. "Yesterday afternoon, she came again with her child, saying her husband wanted me to name the baby so he'd always remember who saved his life..." She rambled on about the backstory. "...I searched through books for ages but couldn't find a suitable name." She frowned slightly in frustration. "What do you think of the name Zheng Tai?"
A name stays with someone for life, so she was particularly hesitant about this decision.
Zhao Ling pondered for a moment. "Tai isn't ideal. While it carries the meaning of peace, in the Book of Changes, it also implies 'small losses leading to great gains.' I think we should choose a different character." He mused, "...How about Linchun?" As he spoke, his gaze settled on Fu Tingyun. "After hardship, all anyone wants is peace and smooth sailing. You saved this child in Linchun Town, and spring is the first season, symbolizing vitality and renewal. I think this name would be perfect!"
He even knows the Book of Changes...
Fu Tingyun found Zhao Ling even more inscrutable.
Noticing her clear, curious eyes fixed on him, Zhao Ling hesitated briefly before explaining, "When I was young, my mother had high expectations for me. I began my education at three. Later, our family fell into decline and couldn't afford schooling... I only know a little about many things."
Fu Tingyun recalled him mentioning he'd learned calligraphy from his mother as a child.
"Your mother must have been an extraordinarily wise woman!"
The softness in Zhao Ling's expression gradually faded, replaced by a hint of coldness at his brow. He remained silent for a long while.
The atmosphere suddenly grew heavy.
Fu Tingyun realized she'd said something inappropriate.
"Linchun is a wonderful name!" She smiled, steering the conversation elsewhere to lighten the mood. "Linchun, Linchun—meaning the arrival of spring. We also found new life in this very town. It's a perfect name!"
Hearing this, Zhao Ling smiled at her, the ice in his demeanor melting away as warmth returned to his features.
Fu Tingyun breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs.
Mo Yi's voice echoed from the stairwell: "Brother Zhao! Brother Zhao!"
Fu Tingyun rose to open the door.
Mo Yi was carrying the two-foot-square kneading board Fu Tingyun had used the day before, along with several pieces of broken wood.
"This damned weather is hot enough to scorch your throat," he declared, striding in and setting the board on the table. "I made a chess set. Let's play!"
The wood fragments were scrawled with characters like "cannon" and "pawn" in charcoal.
Zhao Ling stood with a smile. "Shall I join you downstairs for a few rounds?"
Mo Yi understood this was concern about leaving the lower floor unguarded, where someone might steal their kitchen supplies.
"Don't worry," Mo Yi laughed heartily, his tone brimming with satisfaction. "We've got someone watching the door for us." Without waiting for Zhao Ling to inquire further, he added, "I promised that little thief ten steamed buns a day to guard our supplies, and he agreed immediately."
"Ten steamed buns?" Fu Tingyun had prepared both last night's dinner and this morning's breakfast. "Where would you get those buns, Manager Mo?"
"You'll make them later!" Mo Yi widened his eyes. "Isn't cooking women's work?"Though this was the case, Mo Yi's matter-of-fact attitude inexplicably stirred a faint sense of displeasure in Fu Tingyun's heart.
Zhao Ling noticed and said with a smile, "In that case, Brother Mo surely wouldn’t begrudge us a couple more steamed buns, would he?"
Mo Yi looked surprised.
Zhao Ling continued, "Do you remember that woman carrying a child? Why not hire her to cook for us?"
Mo Yi was momentarily stunned, then turned to Fu Tingyun with a teasing grin and burst into laughter. His reaction made her flush with embarrassment and anger, and she even shot Zhao Ling several resentful glares.
Zhao Ling averted his gaze, pretending not to notice.
But then he suddenly exclaimed, "Huh!" and pointed out the window. "Brother Mo, look!"
At once, Mo Yi dashed to the window, placing a hand on Zhao Ling’s shoulder. "There are about twenty people—old and young, including four women and two children..." Before he could finish, he leaped down to the street and called back to Zhao Ling, "I’ll go check it out. Be right back!" His figure swiftly disappeared down the road.
Fu Tingyun hurried over and saw a group of people approaching along the post road. From this distance, they were no bigger than shadow puppets—impossible to distinguish their genders or ages.
"That Mo Yi has sharp eyes," she muttered, recalling his words with a hint of chagrin.
Zhao Ling gave a quiet hum in response, his gaze fixed on the post road with a grave expression.
Not daring to say more, Fu Tingyun stood silently beside him.
She didn’t notice Zhao Ling stealing a quick glance at her.
Soon, Mo Yi returned. "No trouble, no trouble. They’re from Nine Mile Gulch. Said there might be cases of Seasonal Epidemic there, so the whole village is traveling south toward Huguang, passing through Linchun Town." He then beckoned Zhao Ling. "Come, come, let’s play a game of chess!"
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Contrary to Mo Yi’s assumption that the group would only stop briefly in Linchun Town, they settled in. Not only that, but they also took over three shops at the end of the street, relying on their numbers and a few brawlers among them.
When Zheng Sanniang reported this to Fu Tingyun, she was deeply worried. "There’s a well in the backyard of one of those shops—the only source of water left in town. There’s bound to be another fight over it."
Fu Tingyun wasn’t concerned about that.
With Mo Yi around, the matter shouldn’t be hard to resolve.
What worried her was Zheng San. "Didn’t you tell him? If you cook for us, you’ll get two steamed buns a day. He shouldn’t have to eat that White Clay anymore."
"I did!" Zheng Sanniang hung her head in shame. "But he said, ‘People like you have skills—you’re just passing through Linchun Town. Once you leave, we’ll be starving again. We need to save these buns for me and Linchun.’"
Zheng Sanniang adored the name Zhao Ling had given her child and often cradled the baby, cooing "Linchun, Linchun." She even mentioned that Zheng San thought the name was good—simple and easy to understand.
Just as they were talking, Mo Yi walked in.
Seeing Zheng Sanniang holding the child while tending the fire by the stove and Fu Tingyun wrapping her hair in a scarf to cook flatbreads, his expression darkened. "If this woman can’t cook, find someone else. Two steamed buns—I refuse to believe no one would take the job."
Zheng Sanniang was already terrified of him, and his words left her face deathly pale. Trembling all over, she couldn’t even stand up for a long moment."Leave the kitchen matters to me, Steward Mo," Fu Tingyun said with a confident look, signaling Zheng Sanniang not to worry. She turned to Mo Yi and continued, "Just tell me what you'd like to eat today!"
In noble households, matters of household affairs were always decided by the woman in charge.
Mo Yi was momentarily speechless. His lips moved soundlessly for a while before he finally left without a word.
"You were amazing, Miss!" Zheng Sanniang finally caught her breath, looking at Fu Tingyun with admiration.
It seemed this Mo Yi must also come from a decent background!
Fu Tingyun pondered this as she took the opportunity to remind Zhao Ling while serving him his medicine.
Zhao Ling gave an "Mmm" of acknowledgment without showing any surprise. Instead, he said, "You mentioned that Zheng San used to be an escort guard? Have Zheng Sanniang ask him if he'd be willing to take on a job."
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Sisters, still seeking pink votes... O(∩_∩)O~
(End of chapter)
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