Chapter 11: Staying in the Capital
An Chunfeng gladly accepted the title of "widow," though not being allowed to stay at the inn was somewhat troublesome and required a proper explanation.
“Innkeeper, I am a woman recently widowed, turned away by relatives, and with this heavy rain, I cannot travel. I beg you, please have mercy and let me stay just one night!” She covered her face, feigning tears at the most heart-wrenching part.
The innkeeper, seeing her plight, hesitated to turn her away and awkwardly said, “If someone like you stays here, other guests will say it brings bad luck.”
An Chunfeng had no desire to brave the rain again searching for another inn. With a wound on her head, getting soaked would surely lead to infection.
Just as she was about to plead further, a plump woman emerged from the shop. Hearing the innkeeper trying to send her away, she threw down the bucket she was carrying and, hands on hips, scolded, “Xu Changzhen, this inn belongs to me. Since when do you have the authority to decide who to turn away?”
The innkeeper’s face fell. “Look for yourself, this is a widow wearing mourning—if you let her stay, how will business go with the others?”
The plump woman looked again and noticed the white silk bandage around An Chunfeng’s forehead. She was slightly surprised. “Little sister, you’re still in the period of intense mourning. How come you’re out and about?”
An Chunfeng reluctantly repeated her story about being turned away by relatives and added, “I hope you two will be kind enough to take me in for just one night. I won’t short you on payment.”
She produced some small silver pieces and placed them on the counter.
The innkeeper glanced at the silver and sighed, “With this heavy rain, it would be heartless to send a poor soul like you out. How about this—you stay in your room without coming out, so others won’t gossip. I’ll bring your meals and hot water. Leave early tomorrow morning and don’t disturb anyone.”
Grateful to have a place to stay, An Chunfeng accepted. She settled into a small room at the Immortal Guesthouse.
Night fell, and the heavy rain persisted. Business at the inn was slow, with few guests staying.
The plump landlady personally brought her food and hot water, pulling An Chunfeng aside to ask after her health and to inquire further.
Everyone has a curiosity for gossip, especially about a pretty young widow wearing the signs of recent mourning traveling alone.
From the landlady, An Chunfeng finally learned some customs of the capital she herself had never known.
No wonder the innkeeper was reluctant to let her stay—wearing white silk bands signified a direct family member’s recent death before burial. This was true, intense mourning.
An Chunfeng found it amusing: the “deceased husband” Tang Yushu was still alive and well. Wearing mourning on his behalf was quite an honor.
Understanding that An Chunfeng’s mistakes stemmed from having no elder relatives to guide her, the landlady sympathized and even shed a few tears.
The matter of mourning attire was simple to resolve. The landlady kindly informed her that widows should wear plain clothes with white, but did not need to be in full mourning dress constantly. A blue flower pinned near the temple sufficed.
If she were to remarry, after three years she should report to the authorities and replace the blue flower with a red one.
An Chunfeng decided to remain a widow. Though widows often attracted gossip and were regarded differently, it was more convenient for her than being an unmarried maiden.
Since she was not in the intense mourning period, the inn no longer drove her away, allowing her to stay peacefully.
After some conversation with the landlady, An Chunfeng gained a better understanding of the era, especially the prices in the capital, which made her mutter to herself.
Big cities were different. Life was convenient, but the cost of living was high.
A small inn like the Immortal Guesthouse charged sixty wen for a good upstairs room per night. Adding meals and hot water, daily expenses reached a hundred wen. Ten days would cost one tael of silver.
Having been cast out of the Tang household during a fit of anger, An Chunfeng had not demanded any severance.
Only Lady Liu had some decency and left a small sum of silver in front of others.
She had the innkeeper weigh it carefully: just over two taels of silver.
Lady Liu must have calculated that this amount was enough to hire a carriage and escape a hundred miles from the capital, but not enough for the return trip.
If she stayed in the capital, spending on inns would drain the silver in about twenty days, and she would have no means to establish herself.
Weighing the silver, An Chunfeng resolved not to leave the capital. She had to plan for the long term.
This was a dynasty unknown to history—or perhaps she had simply never read about it before—the Great Liang Dynasty.
One hundred years since its founding, the country was wealthy and strong, the people prosperous, and the capital a bustling metropolis of over a million inhabitants.
The current Emperor Rong had reigned eight years, a diligent and energetic ruler. Except for the occasional disturbances caused by his many consorts, he was a good and hardworking emperor, especially popular for opening the imperial examination to new talents.
An Chunfeng felt fortunate to have transmigrated to such a peaceful era and to live in a thriving capital. Making a living would be easier. Had she arrived in a chaotic time, life as a widow would have been much harder.
Life required food, drink, and shelter—and silver.
The rain sealed the doors; the thread she carried could not be exchanged for money for the time being. As for the little gold lock the child had left behind, An Chunfeng never considered using it.
It was the only keepsake between the original owner and the child. Now that she occupied the body, she felt she should preserve this token for the child’s memory.
As long as the child was not truly heartless, once she prospered, she would return regularly to check on things.
An Chunfeng held no doubts about surviving in this bustling metropolis.
Since age five in her previous life, she had made her way on the streets. Though not skilled in many trades, she had two or three reliable talents.
But newly arrived, she had to keep a low profile.
She had tried it out: the original owner was good at making thread, and with her memories, this skill was now hers as well.
In the future, she would mainly sell thread to earn a living, giving her a respectable trade.
The rain continued for a full day and night. An Chunfeng tended to her wound.
Being of good constitution, after a day’s rest in the inn, the cut on her temple had already scabbed over.
She concealed the wound with her hair and pinned on a plain flower. Following the landlady’s advice, she went to a nearby community agency specializing in housing rentals and sales.
Since she was determined to live long-term in the capital, spending two taels a day on an inn was unrealistic. Renting a house was a more stable choice.
The capital’s community agencies were substantial and comprehensive, almost like local service centers.
Besides managing housing contracts, they also handled the buying and selling of servants, hiring labor, and temporary household registration.
To rent a house here, An Chunfeng had to register her residence with the agency’s clerks.
In front of a clerk, she presented the An family household registration. It listed only one name clearly: a young woman, whose parents had died seven years ago during the southern refugee crisis, leaving only her.
The middle-aged clerk, at first indifferent to a woman handling business, glanced at the register, then at An Chunfeng’s simple widow’s attire and plain flower. Sympathy immediately appeared in his eyes: orphaned and widowed at such a young age, truly a hard life.
Yet sympathy was sympathy; the agency dealt with all kinds of people and matters. The clerk’s family depended on commissions from every transaction.
“Madam An, will you live alone or share with others? Do you have any means of support? Each neighborhood and street in the capital has its advantages; we can find a place according to your preferences.”
The agency worked meticulously, even inquiring about the customer’s tastes and needs.
An Chunfeng was pleased with this attitude and replied, “I will live alone for now. I don’t mind the courtyard style, as long as it’s quiet and clean.”