Chapter 82: Wishing Consort Chen Joy and Well-being from Afar

Zhao Hengyi and his companions would have to wait a while longer in the inn. Even with Manager Liu from Hengtong Trading Company—an old hand in local affairs—helping to smooth things over, there were no slaves with blacksmith skills available at the slave market, so their only option was patience. Initially, Zhao Hengyi planned to entrust the task of purchasing blacksmith slaves to Manager Liu, but word from the market came: in three to five days, several blacksmiths from the Directorate of Works—there due to criminal charges—would be sent to Jiangling Prefecture, and arrangements could be made quietly for Zhao Hengyi to acquire them.

For the sake of these blacksmiths, Zhao Hengyi decided to wait a little longer. Meanwhile, Miao Xiaoyu and the Six Little Ones would likely not be returning to Elm Bay with him anytime soon, for Miss Tao had come with a message: the county princess was personally instructing the Six Little Ones in etiquette and decorum.

For the sisters, this was a tremendous blessing—it signified that Wei Linglan had accepted Miao Xiaoyu and the Six Little Ones at the most fundamental level. With her support, they would never again suffer humiliation!

Staying in Jiangling was hardly idle; in these days, Prefect Su was busy organizing a birthday celebration for Lady Chen in the capital, gathering funds from merchants, sending gifts to the city well ahead of time, and festooning Jiangling with lanterns and decorations to wish Lady Chen happiness and longevity from afar.

Prefect Su’s bold display left Zhao Hengyi—modern man that he was—in a state of bewildered admiration. If Su were not in charge, perhaps no one could hold the seat of Jiangling Prefect. The current emperor was displeased with Su’s blatant flattery, issuing a reprimand, but then quietly rewarded him for his services to the people.

The common folk cared little for Lady Chen’s birthday or the Prefect’s sycophancy; so long as the city was lively and bright, they enjoyed the festivities as free entertainment.

No one in Jiangling dared take the remote birthday celebration lightly; its scale and excitement surpassed even the Lantern Festival. Firecrackers thundered, lanterns twined like dragons, and the city’s nightly curfew was lifted. Wearing a blue cap, Zhao Hengyi strolled through the crowds with Wang Erhu, savoring a festive atmosphere unknown since arriving in the Great Yan. He found himself, almost inexplicably, developing a measure of fondness for Prefect Su. Were it not for Su’s unabashed maneuvering, Zhao Hengyi would not have enjoyed such rare vibrancy.

The restaurants were filled to bursting; literary gatherings and poetry salons sprang up everywhere. In just a few days, countless essays and poems were composed, and the courtesans had to learn new songs daily, earning handsomely while laboring through rehearsals—a bittersweet effort.

By now, Zhao Hengyi was something of a celebrity among the scholars of Jiangling, with some even visiting the inn to call on him, though the Wealthy Zhao declined every audience.

The sayings of the Shabby Daoist were all the rage; not only the scholars, but even the courtesans knew that the coveted Nine Blossom Jade Dew, with its poetic couplets on the bottle, was written by that irreverent Daoist. And as for Wealthy Zhao, the Daoist’s companion—surely not a man of virtue!

Zhao Hengyi met these rumors with composure; he didn’t mix with the scholarly circles, nor did he frequent the pleasure houses. His reputation, therefore, mattered little to him.

After all, every notable figure in Jiangling was subject to gossip. Even Prefect Su, for all his fame, was rumored to be unable to bear the sight of displaced commoners. What truly mattered to Zhao Hengyi and Wang Erhu, though, were the street snacks.

During their recent outings, they’d sampled many treats, but never before had nearly all the city’s delicacies gathered in one place for a feast.

“Miss Tao came with a message yesterday. Did you say anything to her in private?” Zhao Hengyi, having finished his pea cake, held half a bowl of sweet dumplings along with Wang Erhu, chatting as they ate.

“Not really,” Wang Erhu replied, awkward as though guilty of some misdeed.

“I taught you so many lines, and you tell me you finally saw Miss Tao but said nothing?” Zhao Hengyi nearly slammed his sweet dumpling into Wang Erhu’s face. “I promised your elder brother I’d take care of you; don’t make me lose face!”

“Master, the things you taught me… I just couldn’t say them!” Wang Erhu’s cheeks flushed with innocence. “Besides, I’m afraid Miss Tao would take a knife to me if I did…”

Modern romantic lines were indeed shocking for people of this era. If not for Zhao Hengyi’s open matchmaking intentions, Wang Erhu would have suspected he was being set up!

Could any decent person really say such things? Not even the town’s most notorious rakes could utter them!

“Be honest with me: what do you think of Miss Tao?” Zhao Hengyi set down the ceramic bowl. “If she likes you too, I’ll formally ask the county princess to arrange the match.”

“Just so-so…” Wang Erhu hung his head, avoiding Zhao Hengyi’s gaze.

“What do you mean, ‘so-so’?”

This coward! “Let me ask you plainly: if I propose on your behalf, do you think Miss Tao would agree?”

“She probably would.” Wang Erhu blurted out, “Master, stop asking. How should I know what she’s thinking? It’s just… when I look at her, her face blushes, she acts shy, but she doesn’t scold me…”

Blushing? Given your clumsy demeanor, anyone would blush!

“Alright, before we leave, I’ll ask for you,” Zhao Hengyi decided to leave it to fate. “I’ll have the county princess inquire privately. If Miss Tao is willing, I’ll find you a position in Jiangling. If not…”

“Master, I understand. I won’t pester her!”

“Nonsense! If she refuses, I’ll have you manage the sugar business for Ruochang and Ruoyi, so Miss Tao will see you every day!”

Under lanterns bright as day, Zhao Hengyi poked Wang Erhu’s forehead, exasperated. The servant, guilty and silent, didn’t dare retort, but it didn’t stop him from stuffing a fist-sized meat bun into his mouth.

As Zhao Hengyi spoke, he suddenly froze—something sticky brushed the outside of his thumb. In the lantern light, he saw it was blood, not yet dry.

Where had he touched it? He’d just passed countless people—was someone wounded?

Wang Erhu’s gaze sharpened; he stepped protectively in front of his master. The two scanned the crowd, careful not to draw attention.

The street was ablaze with light, thronged with people, alive with noise. In the distance, a troupe performed with drums and gongs—nothing seemed amiss. Or did it?

A few constables moved through the crowd, searching for something.

Suddenly, a flash of steel erupted—a constable’s head was severed, blood jetting two meters high from his neck.