Chapter 80: Coming and Going
Steamed buns puffed up like drums, a bowl of milky-white mushroom and walnut soup with crispy offal, a plate of fragrant braised lamb with carrots, a plate of crispy and savory gourd chicken, a plate of glistening red-braised pork, a plate of plump chicken and sea cucumber, a plate of golden stir-fried daylily flowers, and a plate of snow-white candied yam—four meat dishes and two vegetarian dishes, served in one bowl and six plates. Mo Yi devoured them like a whirlwind. "I knew it," he said, "when you come back, there’s always good food to eat." As he spoke, he dipped a steamed bun into the remaining sauce of the red-braised pork plate and stuffed it into his mouth.
Zhao Ling’s table manners were far more refined. He held a delicate famille-rose bowl painted with gourd and pheasant motifs, sipping his soup.
Mo Yi set down his chopsticks and stared at him.
Zhao Ling grew slightly uncomfortable under his gaze. "Even if you don’t usually bother with me, you’re still my superior. If you have something to say, just say it outright!"
Mo Yi chuckled. "Now you remember I’m your superior? Well, since I’ve said it, you can’t refuse!"
Naturally, Zhao Ling wasn’t about to fall for such a trap. He replied slowly, "Tell me first, and I’ll consider it."
A flicker of awkwardness crossed Mo Yi’s eyes. After a long pause, he lowered his voice. "I want Lu Shi to come and learn needlework and etiquette from your household."
Zhao Ling was taken aback.
Mo Yi’s expression turned sheepish. "Next September is my grandmother’s birthday. My mother wants me to bring Lu Shi back home..." Once the words were out, his demeanor relaxed slightly. "You know how strict our family’s rules are. Lu Shi grew up in the borderlands—she knows nothing of these things. After much thought, I realized the only person in all of Zhangye who could teach her a thing or two is your wife." He nudged Zhao Ling. "Well? What do you say? This is the first time I’ve ever asked you for anything!" His voice was tense, partly because he wasn’t used to asking for favors, and partly because he sensed that putting on airs as a scion of a noble family wouldn’t work on Zhao Ling.
Zhao Ling frowned slightly. "I’ll have to discuss this with Miss Fu."
Mo Yi burst into laughter, his whole body relaxing. "Then it’s settled!"
After all, wasn’t it the man’s word that counted in every household?
Since Zhao Ling had agreed, the matter was as good as done.
"Here, let me toast you," Mo Yi said cheerfully, raising his cup.
In the kitchen, Fu Tingyun packed the freshly made meat pies into a willow basket and placed it on the windowsill to cool—later, she would wrap them in a cloth for Zhao Ling to take to Yang Yucheng and Jin Yuanbao.
The little gossip A Sen came running over. "Miss, Miss! General Mo says he wants you to teach his concubine manners!" He then repeated Mo Yi’s words to Fu Tingyun.
Having grown up in a large family, Fu Tingyun knew that the most basic principle of conduct was to sweep the snow from one’s own doorstep and leave others’ frost alone. That Lu Shi, just as Qi Taitai had predicted, was at best an unofficial mistress—not even a proper concubine. If Fu Tingyun were to teach her etiquette, how would she face Mo Yi’s wife if they ever crossed paths?
But remembering how much Zhao Ling still relied on Mo Yi, she could only sigh. "Go tell Ninth Master to agree to it."
A Sen, oblivious to the complexities, was simply delighted that Fu Tingyun had agreed to help Mo Yi for Ninth Master’s sake. He happily ran off to the main hall.
Even so, Zhao Ling still didn’t give Mo Yi his final answer."There's no need for us to meddle in his household affairs," Zhao Ling said to Fu Tingyun before leaving. "Just keep the courtyard gates closed. If he causes any trouble, there's still Marquis Yingchuan to handle it. I doubt the Marquis would want Mo Yi to become estranged from his family over this matter."
Fu Tingyun nodded in agreement.
Zhao Ling then lowered his voice to advise her, "I'm afraid I won't be able to return before the Yuanxiao Festival. On that day, there will be Shehuo performances in Zhangye—quite different from other places. Why not have Zheng San and his wife accompany you out for a stroll? Don't stay cooped up at home all the time."
Nowadays, everyone was talking about how devoted she was—willing to endure hardship in this remote frontier with her betrothed rather than enjoy comfort with relatives in the capital. Though her appearance might be striking, it didn't mean she enjoyed drawing attention. Zhangye was a small place, and she lived on a back street where the same people came and went. Even staying at home, she often heard that people were asking Qi Taitai about her appearance. If she went out, she'd likely have a crowd pointing and whispering behind her.
And he wasn't truly her betrothed... How could paper ever wrap up fire?
As the saying goes, loose lips sink ships. The same goes for people—the more you wander about, the more people you meet, and the easier it is to be recognized. If her identity were exposed, she'd have no way to clear her name even if she jumped into the Yellow River.
It was better to stay quietly at home and go out less.
But she couldn't say this outright to Zhao Ling. With a soft "Mm," Fu Tingyun changed the subject to ask about his plans for ancestral worship on New Year's Eve.
Zhao Ling froze for a long moment, looking somewhat lost, before writing down "Late Father Zhao Jiyun" and "Late Mother Lady Meng" and handing them to Fu Tingyun. "It's been years since I properly honored my parents," he said, his eyes glistening with tears.
Seeing Zhao Ling so grief-stricken and vulnerable, Fu Tingyun felt nothing but tenderness, compassion, and heartache. Her earlier resentment and dissatisfaction suddenly seemed laughable. Her voice softened like a spring breeze rustling through leaves: "Ninth Master, don't worry. I'll prepare the offerings properly."
If he didn't trust her, why would he entrust her with honoring his parents?
Zhao Ling smiled at her, but the sorrow in his expression remained indelible.
Fu Tingyun clenched her fists tightly to suppress the urge to reach out and touch his forehead.
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After Zhao Ling left, Fu Tingyun first commissioned ancestral tablets for his parents. She then steamed buns and New Year cakes. Since the shops were closed and sacrificial livestock were no longer available, she shaped pigs, cows, and sheep from flour as substitutes. By New Year's Eve, the offerings were plentiful, with whole chickens, ducks, fish, and meat laid out.
After paying respects to the ancestors, everyone—masters and servants alike—gathered for the reunion dinner. At midnight, they set off firecrackers and stayed up laughing and chatting to welcome the new year.
On the first day of the new year, Zheng San, following Fu Tingyun's instructions, delivered Zhao Ling's name cards to the baskets outside the residences of various officials as New Year greetings on Zhao Ling's behalf. With no other tasks at hand, they kept the gates closed and spent their days thinking of delicious dishes to prepare, everyone's faces filled with joy.
Before they knew it, the Yuanxiao Festival arrived. Zheng San took A Sen and Linchun to watch the Shehuo performances in the streets, while Fu Tingyun and Zheng Sanniang stayed home to do needlework.
Spring had already begun, and soon the wind would lose its bite. Zhao Ling would need spring clothes.
Her father had been a sixth-rank official, yet his salary wasn't even enough to buy a coveted Song-dynasty edition, let alone Zhao Ling's circumstances.
No matter how much firewood or rice you have, they won't last as long as frugality. They still needed to find ways to save money.Early the next morning, someone knocked at the door: "Miss Fu! Miss Fu!"
The voice sounded familiar, but Fu Tingyun couldn't quite place it.
Zheng San went to open the door.
It turned out to be Xuemei, Lu Shi's personal maid, accompanied by two servant women—one carrying a tiered food box, the other holding five or six bolts of glittering gold brocade.
"Is Miss Fu at home?" Xuemei asked with a smile, curtsying to Zheng San. "Our mistress has come to visit Miss Fu."
Zheng San looked up and saw Lu Shi standing demurely outside the gate.
He quickly apologized and called for Zheng Sanniang to announce the visitor.
Fu Tingyun had an inkling of why Lu Shi had come. Thinking of Zhao Ling, she hesitated briefly before instructing Zheng Sanniang to invite Lu Shi in.
Lu Shi was only seventeen or eighteen, with a delicate figure and refined features. Though from the northwest, she possessed the grace of a woman from the Jiangnan water towns.
"I often heard the general speak of you before you moved here," she said with great humility. "I should have visited sooner, but then I heard you were in mourning and didn't want to disturb you, so I came less frequently. A few days ago, the general mentioned you again, praising your culinary skills—especially your mushroom and walnut soup with double crispiness. He said the tripe was snow-white, the duck gizzard crisp and tender, the flavors refreshing and authentic. These days, the general has been so busy with official matters that he's lost his appetite. It pains me to see, so I've come shamelessly to ask you to teach me how to make this dish. Please don't think me clumsy—do instruct me."
She made no mention of any formalities, only saying she wanted to learn cooking—a tactful and considerate approach that marked her as an intelligent woman.
No doubt she had discussed this with Mo Yi beforehand.
Fu Tingyun agreed with a smile, and the two chatted amiably, setting a time for the cooking lesson.
From then on, Lu Shi came every day—sometimes to learn cooking, sometimes bringing needlework for Fu Tingyun to examine, sometimes presenting paintings or poems for her critique. Seeing Fu Tingyun busy making spring clothes for Zhao Ling and Yang Yucheng, Lu Shi brought along several maids to help Zheng Sanniang with the sewing.
The maids were quite skilled, but Fu Tingyun still preferred to make Zhao Ling's clothes and shoes herself. The maids helped with Yang Yucheng's garments instead.
Qi Taitai took note of this.
Observing the chimney at Fu Tingyun's house, she deliberately chose a time when Lu Shi was there for a cooking lesson to pay a visit. She made a dramatic entrance into the kitchen.
"I never imagined Miss Fu was such an accomplished cook! Look at this camel's hoof stew—so smooth and tender, so delicious!" She scooped up a spoonful and tasted it. "Delicious, simply delicious!" Then she deliberately asked Fu Tingyun, "You're from Pingliang County, aren't you? How did you learn to make a Zhangye dish like this?" She completely ignored Lu Shi, who stood nearby with her sleeves rolled up.
Fu Tingyun felt a headache coming on. She smiled and said, "Once, Ninth Master ordered a feast from Xiqin Restaurant, and this dish was included. Noticing he liked it, I paid special attention."
"Miss Fu, you truly have an orchid's heart and a hibiscus' intelligence!" After much effusive praise, Qi Taitai took her leave as abruptly as she had arrived.
Fu Tingyun couldn't make heads or tails of it.
Lu Shi, however, looked visibly upset. Forcing a smile, she excused herself, claiming she wasn't feeling well.
What history lay between these two?
Not one to be easily fooled, Fu Tingyun sent Zheng San out to investigate.I couldn't find out anything about Qi Taitai and Lu Shi, but I did hear people in the back alleys gossiping about how skilled Fu Tingyun was at cooking—even Lu Shi had humbled herself to seek advice from her.
This rumor must have been spread by Qi Taitai.
She had no intention of using others as stepping stones and couldn't help feeling secretly annoyed.
A letter from Zhao Ling arrived from Zhuanglang Garrison.
Only then did Fu Tingyun learn that, before the New Year, Zhao Ling had accompanied Lu Cheng on a trip to Zhenfan Garrison. They had been delayed by a heavy snowstorm on their return journey, and by the time they got back to Zhuanglang Garrison, Lu Cheng had been in a hurry to send New Year's gifts to Marquis Yingchuan. As a result, Zhao Ling had never received her letter.
"Honestly!" Fu Tingyun muttered under her breath, her face flushing red. After searching for a long time without finding a suitable box for the letter, she specially instructed Zheng San to go into town and buy a red-lacquered box carved with intertwining vines. She carefully placed the letter inside and hid it in the kang cabinet by her bed.
That night, she sat alone by the dim lamplight, quietly writing a reply to Zhao Ling.
She only asked about his daily life and mentioned nothing else.
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(End of Chapter)
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