Chapter 36: Seizing the Stewardship

Aunt Ping listened in silence. Only after Tang Pinshan had finished venting all his grievances did she suggest, "Master, staying at home like this is not a solution. Perhaps we should go to the Directorate of Astronomy and ask the Director to cast a divination..."

"Nonsense! How many times must I tell you? The function of the Directorate of Astronomy is to observe celestial phenomena, calculate the solar terms, and formulate the calendar—it is not for fortune-telling or casting lots! Forget it, I will not argue with a woman who knows nothing. Let us get some sleep; after being up for a day and a night, my body can no longer bear it."

Tang Pinshan lay down on the bed and closed his eyes in exhaustion, though his mind remained as clear as a mirror. Aunt Ping’s words had awakened him: he could not just sit at home waiting for news. He had to visit the various government offices, especially the Shuntian Prefecture, which had taken on the case.

The Shuntian Prefecture was the highest administrative body governing the capital's counties. Its chief official was the Prefectural Administrator, but the position of Prefect was generally held by an idle prince. The current Prefect of Shuntian was Prince Zhao, Zhou Chengjing, the younger brother of the current Emperor. Because this prince was a man who preferred the company of beauties to the burden of the throne and wanted to do nothing, the Emperor gave him the position of Prefect in name only, leaving the Administrator to handle all actual responsibilities.

Tang Pinshan felt he should go and urge Prince Zhao to handle the case diligently. This would not only spare him the annoyance of domestic trivialities but also hasten the recovery of the missing woman. With these matters weighing on his mind, and thinking of the chaos at home, Tang Pinshan felt a tightness in his temples.

At that moment, Aunt Ping was still murmuring, "...The First Mistress's health is paramount, Master. You must be more patient and let her rest for a few more days. With no one managing the household, the servants have become lazy and deceitful. The kitchen is short-handed, the soups and broths are subpar—Mother almost didn't even get her iced lotus seed porridge!"

Tang Pinshan grew even more annoyed and said offhandedly, "Ping Niang, starting tomorrow, you take the keys. Mother cannot be left alone for a moment, and the Second Young Master’s wife needs to see a doctor every three days; this requires your meticulous care."

Aunt Ping looked terrified. "Master, I cannot do that. If I take over the household management just as the First Mistress falls ill, people will say I have ulterior motives!"

"What motives? Over that pittance of silver in this house?" Tang Pinshan sat up abruptly, as if insulted. "I haven't even questioned her for her failure in raising her daughter, yet she dares to speak of motives! You are only to manage the house; I will take responsibility for everything else!"

Aunt Ping’s eyes flickered, and she replied gently, "Yes, Master. Ping Niang will certainly do her best!"

The next day, after the Second Young Master of the Tang family had left with his men, a young boy also slipped out of the house, looking suspicious. Qin Mu walked quickly to the corner of the alley and beckoned to a donkey cart. When the driver approached in confusion, Qin Mu stood up straight, tossed him five coins, and said in a clear, childish voice, "Drive the cart over and wait for me there!"

As long as there is money, a child's words carry weight; the driver did as he was told. Soon, Aunt Ping, wearing a veil, boarded the cart, and Qin Mu was helped onto the side by the driver. The cart turned and headed slowly toward the North City.

The Tang household had been in turmoil for days, and things were just as chaotic over at Lihua Alley.

The day after the Qixi Festival, An Chunfeng did not arrive at the cloth shop until nearly noon. Qiushui had already returned from the Hundred Flowers Pavilion and was busy arranging tasks with the seamstresses. Hearing that An Chunfeng had arrived, she hurriedly lifted her skirt and trotted over to greet her. She was so anxious that her movements were turbulent and fragrant.

The moment she saw An Chunfeng, without a word of preamble, Qiushui beamed. "Sister An, that deal really went through! Once we deliver the goods, we will have a net profit of five hundred taels of silver. We can both have a prosperous year!"

Last night, the Hundred Flowers Pavilion had been incredibly lively. Mother Qin had truly seen the value in the goods; amidst the cheers and bidding, she had placed an order with Qiushui on the spot for various camisole dresses, nightgowns, pajamas, and even mesh shawls and coats. She had even left word that whenever there were new arrivals, they could be brought to the Hundred Flowers Pavilion for trial, promising her full support.

With the business successful, each of them would receive at least two hundred taels. An Chunfeng was equally delighted; this money was enough for her to live comfortably for a year. Relying on mountains, they crumble; relying on water, it dries up—only having grain in one's own hands keeps one from panic. With money, she could settle down here securely.

Since this first major deal was significant, the two women happily took out the ledger, recorded the accounts, signed their names, and listed the quantities of various silks and threads. Time flew by until noon. By custom, An Chunfeng should have gone home, but today she did not rush off, instead staying at the shop to share a meal with Qiushui.

By then, Qiushui finally noticed that An Chunfeng’s mood was off. "Sister An, have you encountered something troubling?"

An Chunfeng sighed, shaking her head with a bitter smile. "Shopkeeper Qiu, have you ever encountered someone who pesters you incessantly, demanding to marry you?"

Qiushui pursed her lips and laughed. "A man's mouth is a ghost's lie; don't believe it. Let me tell you, Sister: if they suddenly tell you ten times that they miss you, their body is surely what they miss, and once they've had their fill, they'll discard you. If they babble on for no reason about wanting to marry you, it's only because they lack a servant at home to wash clothes and cook—they want to marry you so they have someone to wait on them. If a woman can live well and eat well on her own, why bother serving a man?"

Qiushui came from the world of pleasure and had long since grown indifferent to the romantic entanglements between men and women. Song Qi had been with her for years, and though he had mentioned taking her into his home several times, it was only ever as a concubine. Qiushui knew Song Qi had some genuine affection for her, but he already had a wife and children at home, and she was a woman who had left the brothel to turn over a new leaf; marrying him would only mean becoming a concubine or a mistress. Qiushui was unwilling. If she had been willing to be a concubine, she would have been redeemed back when she was at her most popular, and would not be living as a solo female shopkeeper now.

An Chunfeng had been sold by her parents in her previous life and had seen enough of the play-acting in nightlife venues. Now, still feeling the pain of the original owner's abandonment, marriage and family held no appeal for her. Naturally, she nodded in agreement with Qiushui’s pragmatic, if unconventional, worldview: "I am not interested in what men have to say! Admiration is understandable, but I loathe those who stop at nothing to achieve their goals."

Qiushui was surprised. An Chunfeng had been in contact with her for over a month, usually speaking only of business and never of private matters. She couldn't help but ask curiously, "Is someone trying to play dirty because you refused a marriage proposal?"

An Chunfeng remained calm. "I am still in the mourning period; I will not consider remarrying! I just feel that this talk of marriage is a plague; it’s annoying to be pestered, and it creates trouble for no reason!" She felt that using the mourning period as a shield was truly effective—she didn't even need to think of excuses.

"If someone is forcing you to marry while you are still in mourning, then someone is indeed up to no good. Sister An, if you have any difficulties, why not speak them out? I am ten years your senior, and I still have some connections in the capital!" Qiushui became serious. An Chunfeng was her "God of Wealth" now; she could not let anything go wrong. Back in the day at the Ministry of Rites' music academy, she had been quite the sensation, and she had had no fewer than eight suitors in high official positions. Though they were no longer in contact, if she were to seek their help, they would likely recall some of their old affection.