Chapter 18 – Visitors from the Provincial Government
After having dinner at home, Kou Pei Feng hurried out wearing his felt hat. He still had many relatives to visit. He had come here first thing in the morning, got carried away chatting with Xie Jing, and had already delayed for quite some time.
Outside, it began to snow again. The clear sky filled with drifting flakes, and the clothes and felt hats of passersby were soon dusted white.
Xie Jing tidied up the courtyard, then went to the stove and roasted a cob of corn.
Before long, the fragrance of roasted corn filled the air. He pulled the corn out from the ashes, patted it clean, and carried it to find Grandma Kou. “Grandma, should I shell the corn kernels for you to eat?”
Grandma Kou sat by the small table on the kang, sewing under the daylight. Seeing him, she smiled and shook her head. “I can’t chew that. You eat it yourself.”
Xie Jing sat to the side gnawing on the corn, his face streaked black and white like a little tabby cat. Grandma Kou looked at him two or three times and couldn’t help but laugh. She didn’t urge him to wash up; instead, she found his silly little face endearing. After chatting for a while, Xie Jing started yawning, curled up by the warm kang, and soon fell asleep. Only then did Grandma Kou put down her sewing, dampen a handkerchief with cool tea, and gently wiped the “mustache” of ash around his mouth.
The New Year holiday passed quickly, and Xie Jing began packing his things.
Grandma Kou, afraid he’d go hungry, prepared plenty of snacks that could keep for a while.
While packing, she fussed over him, her voice full of worry: “This time I don’t even know if I’ll see you for the Dragon Head-raising Festival [1]. I’ve packed you extra roasted beans and puffed rice, and some chess-piece-shaped buns in a cloth pouch. When you’re on night duty, have some so you won’t go hungry…”
She nagged on for a long time, reluctant to let him go. “If you’re allowed to leave the compound, send word back to Grandma, and I’ll make dumplings for you.”
“Alright.”
Xie Jing left home with plenty of food. Grandma Kou stood at the door watching him go, several times lifting her sleeve to wipe her eyes.
On the third day of the new year, Xie Jing returned to the Bai residence.
Before he could even settle in, Steward Zhou took him to see Fang Yurou.
The floor heating in Fang Yurou’s room made it very warm, but she was still dressed snugly. She wore a Guanyin-style hood, and the cloth wrapped around her forehead was thick and embroidered with gold thread and fine pearls—luxurious to the eye.
Fang Yurou looked him over, then smiled. “I remember you. I didn’t look carefully last time, but it turns out you’re quite a handsome young man.”
Xie Jing greeted her politely.
“No need to be so restrained,” Fang Yurou said. “My health isn’t good, so I can’t move about much. That day at Heihe you rendered great service. By rights, you should be rewarded and sent out to manage a shop. But since you’ve chosen to follow Lord Bai Jiu, that’s already a blessing beyond our reach. Just serve him well and take good care of everything. No matter what the provincial office decides, the Bai family of Qinghe will remember you—on all the major holidays, you’ll get your due share.”
She nodded to a maid, who brought over a lacquered box and handed it to Xie Jing.
He glanced at it—it contained fifty silver dollars and various festive delicacies.
Fang Yurou continued, “Your contract papers—Lord Bai Jiu already sent someone to retrieve them. Things were hectic during the New Year, so we didn’t get to thank you properly. Take these for now; come the Lantern Festival, your reward will be doubled.”
Xie Jing accepted the box, thanked her again, and withdrew.
After leaving Fang Yurou’s quarters, Steward Zhou personally escorted him to the East Courtyard, smiling the whole way and calling him “little brother.” He even carried the gift box himself until they reached the gate, before handing it back to Xie Jing.
But Xie Jing had no intention of befriending the household staff. His loyalties lay elsewhere—the East Courtyard was his true destination.
East Courtyard
Master Bai Jiu was playing a game of Go with someone. Beside him was a steaming cup of tea and half a peeled tangerine. The room was warm and faintly scented with citrus bitterness and the freshness of tea.
He sat with a white stone between his fingers, dressed in a brocade robe patterned with clouds, its cuffs trimmed with snow mink. The long sleeves revealed slender, elegant hands. His fingertips were almost translucent, his nails neatly trimmed and glossy.
When he heard movement at the door, he looked up with a smile. “You’re back?”
“Yes,” Xie Jing replied softly. He stood quietly, watching the game, glancing discreetly at the man across from Bai Rongjiu.
It was a round-faced, small-eyed man in his fifties, a bit plump, with two thin strips of mustache that twitched when he spoke.
The sight made Xie Jing tense instantly. He dared not move recklessly.
This was Mr. Huang Mingyou, the scholar once hired by the provincial governor at a high price to teach Lord Bai Jiu. Bai Rongjiu often said that Mr. Huang’s mind held “ten thousand scrolls of knowledge.” It wasn’t an exaggeration—his memory was legendary; anything he read, he never forgot. He could recite any page backward and forward if you pointed at random. Bai Rongjiu respected him greatly, and Xie Jing never dared to be impolite before him. He had read some books himself, and he respected learned men.
Mr. Huang scratched his head, frowning in thought, holding a Go stone for ages without placing it.
Xie Jing secretly glanced over and thought to himself: There it is again. Mr. Huang’s old habit—though brilliant in all else, his Go skills were atrocious. The worse he played, the more he fought, and the more he lost, the more he refused to quit.
Bai Rongjiu clearly noticed too. While playing, he asked casually, “Your family’s doing well?”
“All well.”
“Had dinner? The kitchen saved you some sweet rice dumplings. I had a bowl this morning—peanut filling, not bad.”
Obediently, Xie Jing went to the kitchen to eat.
Mr. Huang, seizing the chance, looked after him and quietly asked about his background.
After Bai Rongjiu’s recent incident in Qinghe, the provincial governor had been alarmed.
If not for his old age, he might have come himself. Instead, he sent Huang Mingyou and a team of guards to stay until the new distillery was completed.
Even now, Mr. Huang was unsettled. “You said that boy’s calm and steady, hands firm—doesn’t fit his age. Could he be someone else’s spy?”
“Who would pay such a price for him to risk his life?” Bai Rongjiu laughed lightly and dropped another stone. “Unlikely.”
Mr. Huang pondered, nodded, and went back to studying the board.
In the kitchen, Xie Jing was also thinking about Mr. Huang. He ate his sweet rice dumplings painfully slowly—half an hour for one piece—dragging it out until he guessed that Mr. Huang was almost done losing. Only then did he return to the study.
But he had underestimated the man.
That day, Mr. Huang was especially fired up from losing—he had rolled up his sleeves, looking nothing like a scholar, eyes red with battle spirit.
Bai Rongjiu tried to ease away: “Mr. Huang, how about we review lessons instead?”
Mr. Huang waved him off, eyes locked on the board. “No need! Your studies need no checking—you’re the best pupil I’ve ever had. Now, look here—three possible moves.
If I block the black stones here, I can carve out this territory. But if I drop it here…”
He gestured at three spots, refusing to play, practically cheating already.
Xie Jing dared not approach. He didn’t want to play Go with Mr. Huang. He didn’t dare lose—but he didn’t dare win either.
Just then, someone entered to discuss distillery machinery with Bai Rongjiu. Seeing his master finally relax, Xie Jing also let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Mr. Huang left, hugging his half-finished Go board for later study. As he passed Xie Jing, the young man pressed himself flat against the wall, eyes downcast, hoping not to be noticed.
But Mr. Huang was too engrossed in his “treasured” board to even glance his way.
The visitor bringing the blueprints was Eldest Young Master Bai Mingzhe, who had been overseeing all the estate affairs lately. He had just returned from the distillery and entered with excitement.
“Master, these machines are incredible! What used to take ten workers a full day is now done in an hour!” He was glowing with pride. “And those two grinding machines you had shipped from the provincial capital—they work beautifully! The flour they produce is much finer than before. After the harvest, even if we don’t make wine, we could open a mill—or, like the Westerners, a bakery! Fine flour sells for a high price. Should we import more fire mills in advance?”
Bai Rongjiu replied, “Let’s wait and see how these perform first. They’re running smoothly?”
“Perfectly! Very smooth!”
As they spoke, footsteps sounded in the courtyard. Someone pushed past the thick curtain and entered.
It was Bai Mingyu, just back from outside.
He wore a fur hat, and his shoulders were dusted with melting snow.
He removed his cloak in the outer room and entered in a sapphire-blue robe, bowing deeply.
“Greetings, Master Bai Jiu.”
His leg was still healing, so Bai Rongjiu had someone stop him and find him a chair.
“Your brother was just talking about you. How’s the leg?”
“Much better. I can walk a few steps now…” Bai Mingyu replied as he was helped to sit—
then froze mid-sentence, staring in shock at the familiar figure beside Bai Rongjiu.
He stammered, eyes wide.
“F–Feng’er?!”
Author’s Note:
Xie Jing: Surprised? Delighted?
Footnotes:
[1] The Dragon Head-raising Festival (Longtaitou) is a traditional Chinese festival on the second day of the second lunar month that celebrates the awakening of spring and the dragon, a symbol of good fortune and rain
