Chapter 9: Home-style Tofu (Part Nine)
Though Leng Yue’s eyes clearly sparked with anger, Jing Yi felt an inexplicable chill under her gaze. Drawing from his half-year experience as an official in the Dali Temple, he knew that retreating now would lead to unimaginable consequences. So, steeling himself, he took half a step forward.
They were already standing close. With Leng Yue stepping forward and him doing the same, the distance between their noses narrowed to just two fists’ width.
Leng Yue didn’t retreat, standing firm as a mountain as she stared at him.
At this proximity, Jing Yi could clearly catch the faint scent of powder from Leng Yue. The fragrance drifted into his nostrils, swirling leisurely, and Jing Yi momentarily lost control…
He sneezed.
The sneeze itself wasn’t a big deal, but the problem was they were standing too close. In that sudden moment, Jing Yi only had time to cover his mouth but not to turn his face away. A muffled sneeze was followed by a dull “thud”—Jing Yi’s forehead squarely collided with Leng Yue’s.
“...Jing Yi!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
“Have you ever been right?!”
“No, no, no…”
“...”
When the porcelain kiln workers heard the commotion and emerged from the rooms around the kiln, they saw a tall woman in red lowering her pale neck, tightly clutching her forehead, and glaring furiously at the government official crouching at her feet, who was clutching the back of his head.
Judging by the color of his official robe, he was no minor official.
The workers here knew their boss had close ties with the government and that young officials occasionally visited the kiln. However, those in official robes usually only ate, drank, and amused themselves in the front estate, at most taking a look at the items in the warehouse. None had ever come to the kiln area, let alone such a high-ranking official striking such an undignified pose…
No one knew what had happened, so no one stepped forward. It wasn’t until an elderly man with white hair and a hunched back, holding a bowl of noodles in one hand and a cane in the other, hobbled out of the kiln room. At the sight of Jing Yi obediently crouching on the ground, his hand trembled, and the bowl of noodles crashed to the floor with a “clatter.”
Leng Yue looked up in surprise, only to realize they were being watched by a crowd as if they were a monkey show. It was lunchtime, and nearly all twenty or thirty people held bowls and chopsticks, some squatting, some standing, all hastily shoveling food into their mouths while watching. The scene was truly…
Not ideal.
Especially when the old man who had dropped his bowl approached, his eyes shining as he stared at Jing Yi, his voice trembling with excitement, “Ancestor… my ancestor! Is this… is this Young Master Jing, the Fourth Young Master Jing?”
Yes, this was the genuine Fourth Young Master Jing, but Leng Yue wasn’t sure if she should answer, since the old man had clearly addressed his ancestor.
So she glanced down at the ancestor.
The Fourth Young Master Ancestor seemed bewildered, still crouching dumbfounded on the ground, his raised face clearly expressing one thought:
I don’t know you.
“Fourth Young Master, it really is the Fourth Young Master… It’s me, I’m Zhang Lao Wu! Don’t you remember me?”Jing Yi furrowed his brow and slowly stood up. He didn’t say he didn’t remember, but aside from the agitated Old Man Zhang, who was trembling all over, everyone in the room could see the thick layer of bewilderment plastered across his ethereally handsome face.
“How could you not remember…”
Zhang Lao Wu grew so frantic that he jabbed his cane into the ground a few times. Suddenly, as if struck by an idea, he slapped his forehead, then swiftly reached up and tousled his neatly tied white hair into a mess. After that, he tugged at his tidy clothes until they were disheveled. Once he’d finished, he threw his cane to the ground and sprawled out on the floor, eagerly asking Jing Yi, “Like this… like this, do you remember now?”
“…”
A few clatters of chopsticks hitting the floor echoed from the crowd.
Jing Yi glanced at Leng Yue’s pitch-black expression, silently raised his hands to cradle the back of his head, and crouched back down.
Leng Yue stared at the disheveled heap that was Zhang Lao Wu lying on the ground, rubbing her throbbing forehead, her feelings indescribable.
“Old sir…” Jing Yi remained crouched, clutching his head, his voice so pitiful it sounded on the verge of tears. “If you want me to remember something, just say it outright… This isn’t doing either of us any good.”
Zhang Lao Wu wobbled as he propped himself up with his cane, his voice even more aggrieved than Jing Yi’s. “Fourth Young Master… You’ve really forgotten? It was you who repeatedly instructed me, over and over, never to speak of it in this lifetime!”
Jing Yi let out a weary sigh. He had indeed said such things before, but he truly couldn’t recall when he had given such instructions to an elderly man of this age.
Perhaps it really was something disgraceful. But judging by Leng Yue’s expression, even if she heard the most shameful secret, her face couldn’t possibly darken any further. So, Jing Yi resignedly said, “It’s fine… Go ahead and say it.”
“I can’t, I can’t…” Old Man Zhang thumped his cane. “You made me swear on my ancestors’ memorial tablets back then!”
Swearing on ancestral tablets…
Could it really be something significant?
Jing Yi hesitated.
Leng Yue shot him a sidelong glance, and Jing Yi instantly felt that nothing in the world mattered anymore. “Speak freely. I will personally account for it to your ancestors.”
“…”
Though Jing Yi was still crouching as he spoke, his words were firm and resolute. Zhang Lao Wu hesitated for a moment, then finally pointed toward the direction of the kiln room. “Then… can we go inside to talk? This batch is almost finished firing—I can’t leave it unattended. I have to keep an eye on the fire.”
Watch the fire?
Leng Yue was taken aback for a moment, her expression softening slightly. Her voice, no longer as vehement as when she had yelled at Jing Yi, became polite and respectful. “Are you the master craftsman who came to fire the kiln in place of your grandson?”
At this question, Zhang Lao Wu’s face visibly stiffened. His lips trembled before he replied, “Yes… it’s me. My grandson left the city and returned to our hometown for some matters… I’m just filling in for him for a few days, only a few days…”
Leng Yue curved her lips into a bright smile, erasing the last traces of anger from her face. She raised her hands in a respectful salute. “I’ve long heard of your esteemed reputation, Master Craftsman. It is truly an honor to meet you at the porcelain kiln today. I happen to have a few questions about kiln firing that I don’t quite understand—I would be grateful for your guidance.”Leng Yue's swift change in expression momentarily left Zhang Lao Wu disoriented, and he could only stammer repeatedly, "I don't deserve such honor..."
Before Zhang Lao Wu finished speaking, Leng Yue grabbed Jing Yi by the back collar and hauled him up from the ground. Taking advantage of Jing Yi's official robes, she dispersed the kiln workers who had been watching so intently they forgot to eat, then supported Zhang Lao Wu into the kiln chamber.
She didn't know Jing Yi's purpose for coming to the kiln, but she remembered her own reason for being there.
Upon entering, Leng Yue carefully scanned the room. Built against the firewood feeding port, it served more as shelter from wind, rain, and extreme temperatures for the kiln workers than a proper room. One side was piled with firewood, the other with rosewood crates awaiting shipment. Opposite the entrance stood the kiln's feeding port.
Zhang Lao Wu immediately approached the kiln, picking up a long iron hook leaning nearby. With practiced ease, he inserted it into the inspection hole and retrieved a test piece to examine its quality. Like a physician finding favorable pulse signs, he sighed in relief before setting down the hook and turning to Jing Yi. "Fourth Young Master... You've truly forgotten? You saved my life three years ago."
Leng Yue had been intently studying the brightly glowing feeding port, but at these words she turned in surprise, meeting Jing Yi's still bewildered expression.
She had never heard of him saving anyone.
Jing Yi seemed equally unaware. "I don't recall..."
"That day, two burly men cornered me in an alley and beat me for some reason..." Zhang Lao Wu patted his somewhat stiff right leg. "This leg was injured by those men... Then you suddenly appeared from nowhere, fought them, and got slashed across the spine!"
Leng Yue jolted upright, her spine straightening abruptly as she stared at Jing Yi in astonishment.
She remembered that injury clearly - three years ago, it had nearly cost Jing Yi his life. Just today while he bathed, she had seen that shocking scar slanting across his marble-smooth back.
Jing Yi had always claimed he deserved the wound after losing a dice game, not even earning his mother's sympathy.
How had it become an injury from saving someone?
Only at the mention of that wound did Jing Yi suddenly realize what incident Zhang Lao Wu had been desperately trying to remind him of.
He hadn't recalled it earlier because, to him, saving someone hadn't been the purpose or motivation - it was merely something he'd done in passing, immediately forgotten, let alone after three years.
Now remembering, indeed, this was something worth begging an elder to swear upon his ancestors never to reveal.
Before Zhang Lao Wu could disclose the crucial matter, Jing Yi hastily feigned recognition. "Ah, I remember now! You're that uncle! After all these years, I truly didn't recognize you! Heh, heh, heh..."
"Exactly!" Hearing Jing Yi's recollection, Zhang Lao Wu immediately perked up, his voice brightening as he pointed to the small silver bracelet dangling from Jing Yi's belt, woven with red silk threads. "If I hadn't seen this bracelet you took from those two men, I wouldn't have dared recognize you!"
Jing Yi's heart turned cold.
He sighed inwardly.What is fated to happen cannot be avoided, and it arrives without warning...
Jing Yi felt Zhang Lao Wu’s words were enough for Leng Yue to grasp the most critical part of the matter. For a moment, he didn’t dare to look at Leng Yue’s expression. Zhang Lao Wu didn’t give him the chance either—before Jing Yi could even finish a sigh, Zhang Lao Wu’s expression darkened. He cleared his throat, craned his neck to glance outside, and lowered his voice, saying, “Fourth Young Master Jing, I’ve heard… you’re now a high-ranking official in the Dali Temple?”
Jing Yi was momentarily taken aback. The word “yes” lingered on his tongue but ultimately didn’t come out.
He was wearing the official robes of a fourth-rank civil official—his position was obvious at a glance. His hesitation stemmed from the unmistakable undertone of a plea in the question.
Ever since he became the Dali Temple Vice Minister, no one had ever come to him with good news.
While he remained silent, Leng Yue spoke up for him. “He is the fourth-rank Vice Minister of the Dali Temple.”
In just a few words, she sent a chill down Jing Yi’s spine.
It wasn’t because she had announced his official title, but because her voice was so calm, as if she hadn’t heard anything unsettling just moments before.
Noticing Zhang Lao Wu’s questioning gaze on her, Leng Yue added calmly, “I am his wife. He came with me to look at porcelain.”
“Oh… oh! What a coincidence, what a coincidence…” Zhang Lao Wu tightened his grip on his cane, as if mustering his courage several times over before letting out a heavy sigh. “Fourth Young Master, I… I was just thinking yesterday about how I could possibly see you, and here you are today. It’s truly… truly…”
Zhang Lao Wu trailed off, and neither Jing Yi nor Leng Yue pressed him. For a moment, the three of them fell into silence, the only sounds being the crackling of firewood in the kiln and the faint noises of other workers resuming their tasks after their meal.
When Zhang Lao Wu spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper, yet Jing Yi and Leng Yue heard him with perfect clarity.
“I… I want to tell you… my grandson… he killed someone.”
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