Chapter 19 — Three Copper Coins
Bai Rongjiu looked up, glanced at this silly boy, then at Xie Jing.
“I forgot to tell you,” he said lightly. “I think he’s pretty good. I asked your father for him, and now he serves at my side.”
Bai Mingyu’s eyes went wide with shock.
He vaguely remembered his family mentioning around New Year that someone would be transferred, but he had been so miserable and heartbroken then that he hadn’t paid attention. Now he was utterly speechless—just staring at Xie Jing in disbelief.
Xie Jing tilted his head and glanced at Bai Mingyu’s leg. The young master was still using crutches, but hopping around with surprising energy.
Lucky. Fortunate.
The injury hadn’t touched the bone.
The last trace of worry in Xie Jing’s heart vanished. He thought the Bai family’s second young master truly was a man of great fortune—always escaping danger by a hair’s breadth, never needing anyone to fret over him.
But Bai Mingyu’s thoughts were completely different. He had cried over “Feng’er” for days! Especially right after returning from the Heihe—he’d searched everywhere, thinking Feng’er had been hacked to death. When the dead workers were brought back for burial, his men had stopped him from looking; he couldn’t bear to see Feng’er like that. And now, suddenly, there he was, standing right in front of him—alive! Bai Mingyu nearly jumped up in shock, grabbing Xie Jing by the shoulders, looking him up and down with teary eyes.
“You—you’re all right?!”
Xie Jing still held the teapot, standing still as he replied calmly, “Thanks to you, Young Master, I’m fine.”
“You—you… where did you go that day? I thought I’d never find you again.” Bai Mingyu’s eyes were red. “I looked for you for so long—it was chaos that day, I almost died.”
Xie Jing said softly, “Young Master won’t die.” At least not there.
Bai Mingyu was deeply moved. Sniffling, he straightened his back, “You’re right. I still have great things to accomplish!”
Xie Jing thought privately, Yes, great disasters yet to come.
Later, when Bai Mingyu followed Lord Bai Jiu to the provincial capital and then to the south, he indeed stirred up all sorts of trouble. Still, the second young master had an uncanny knack for turning misfortune into blessing. He even helped Lord Bai Jiu—albeit unintentionally—on more than one occasion.
Xie Jing’s eyes on him were like those on a good-luck charm.
Not essential—but preferable to have around. At least it was reassuring.
Bai Mingyu blinked away his tears, still staring at Xie Jing, and tugged at his hand. “Feng’er, come home with me. The things you used before, I burned them, but don’t worry—I’ll buy you new ones, all the best!”
Lord Bai Jiu coughed softly from his seat.
Xie Jing pried off Bai Mingyu’s hand and said, “Young Master, you’re in the way of my work.”
Bai Mingyu looked blankly at him, then saw Xie Jing walking over to refill Lord Bai Jiu’s tea. He followed, limping along, circling around like a lost dog that refused to sit. Even his elder brother, frantically winking at him to stop, couldn’t dissuade him.
Lord Bai Jiu took a sip of tea and asked calmly, “How are your studies these days?”
Bai Mingyu, still watching Xie Jing, answered, “I’ve been injured, so as you advised, I’ve been recuperating quietly. Haven’t read much.”
Bai Mingzhe, his elder brother, blushed with embarrassment and snapped, “Nonsense! Your leg is hurt, not your eyes! You read with your feet, do you?”
“No, but the bone just set, and it hurts at night. I can’t sleep, so I can’t study well the next day—”
As he spoke, he reached again for Xie Jing’s sleeve. “Brother, Lord Bai Jiu, please, let me have my study companion back. I’m used to studying with him—we keep each other company.”
He looked pitiful, clutching at Xie Jing like a devoted master.
Lord Bai Jiu glanced from Xie Jing back to him and raised an eyebrow, “You study the same things?”
“Not exactly,” Bai Mingyu admitted. “Ah, but, Lord Bai Jiu, why ask that? Feng’er never even made it to apprentice hall—he barely knows a few characters! He’s no good for you, really. I’ll find you a couple of learned fellows instead!”
“Oh?” Lord Bai Jiu turned to Xie Jing. “You can read?”
Xie Jing replied, “Yes. The Young Master often—”
“Ah—ah! I admit I taught him a few words,” Bai Mingyu cut in hastily. “It’s just, reading alone is dull, so I taught him a bit. Hardly much! Better let me take him back, build a solid foundation, and send him to you again later.”
He glared at Xie Jing. “Feng’er, don’t just stand there like a fool—come with me!”
Xie Jing stood still, “Second Young Master, my name is Xie Jing.”
“…”
“Fine, fine—Xie Jing, then. Come back with me.”
“I won’t. I’ll be serving Lord Bai Jiu from now on.”
“No way!”
Xie Jing didn’t argue, simply looked up at Lord Bai Jiu.
Lord Bai Jiu raised an eyebrow. “I heard that the copies of texts you handed in before were written by others. Reading mustn’t be done lazily. Go back and copy them all over again for me.”
Bai Mingyu froze as if struck by lightning. He turned to Xie Jing, aghast—his face practically spelling out “You even told him that?!”
Xie Jing stood there, looking perfectly obedient, not a flicker of guilt in his eyes.
Grinding his teeth, Bai Mingyu leaned close and hissed, “Weren’t we best friends?”
“Not that good. You never studied properly—others got beaten because of it.”
“…”
The Bai family’s little tyrant, invincible across Qinghe County for over a decade, had just experienced his first taste of betrayal.
Bai Mingyu dared not defy Lord Bai Jiu. Unable to reclaim his man, he left in frustration.
Back at his courtyard, a servant ran up, all excited, “Young Master! You were looking for Kou Pei Feng, right? I’ve been asking around nonstop—even through the holidays! And guess what? I found him! Steward Zhou assigned him to the apprentice quarters. I’ve already sent for him—he’ll be here any moment!”
Just as he finished speaking, a tall, simple-looking apprentice wearing a felt cap was led in.
He bowed politely. “Second Young Master.”
Bai Mingyu’s temper, already simmering, flared instantly, “What nonsense—this is Kou Pei Feng?!”
“Uh? But that’s what he said his name is…”
“Get out! All of you! Can’t even find a person properly—what good are you for?! OUT!”
Everyone fled in panic. The second young master had a fearsome temper—he’d once charged forward on crutches just to hit someone. No one in the entire Bai household dared provoke him lightly.
Shortly after New Year came the Lantern Festival.
That day, Xie Jing was granted half a day off. He went home to dine with Granny Kou and brought her a few gifts.
Lord Bai Jiu had given him a small box, telling him to open it only after returning home.
Xie Jing assumed it held some treat or trinket and tucked it carefully into his coat.
After dinner, he opened it—and froze.
Inside was a contract paper.
The old apprenticeship contract Kou Laosan had drafted before was extremely strict—three years of servitude before even qualifying as a journeyman, essentially binding one to a master for life. Still, it had been considered a coveted position—getting into the Bai household required a guarantor; ordinary folk had no chance.
But now, Lord Bai Jiu had returned that contract to him. Beneath it lay a new one—simple and generous, more like an employee agreement from a big Shanghai firm: one year at a time, monthly pay.
Granny Kou, unable to read, asked Xie Jing to read it aloud. When he finished, she was overjoyed, “That’s wonderful! I used to worry about you, but now there’s nothing to fear. The Bai family’s a good one. Sign for a year first, my boy.”
Xie Jing nodded, carefully writing his name at the bottom.
After finishing, he frowned at a small blot of ink, tried to fix it, but only made it worse—a messy black dot. He froze, halfway through reaching to scrape it, then stopped and rubbed his nose instead, sighing softly.
He’d once thought his handwriting was decent. But after serving under Lord Bai Jiu, he realized just how far he had to go.
Still, there was time—he would have decades yet beside Lord Bai Jiu to practice.
He blew on the paper to dry it, tucked it back into the box just as it was, planning to hand it to Lord Bai Jiu when he returned.
Granny Kou brought him a bowl of homemade fermented rice wine soup. “To help your digestion,” she said. Her brew was far better than anything sold outside—sweet and fragrant, its warmth spreading through his chest.
Setting the empty bowl aside, Xie Jing looked around, “Granny, now that we have some money, why don’t we move to a better place?”
“That’s fine. This one’s too far from your work anyway. I’ll rent something closer in a few days—easier to visit you, too.” She took his bowl and asked, “Want another? You didn’t eat much tonight—you barely touched the flatbread.”
Xie Jing nodded and smiled. “You make too many dishes, Granny. I filled up on those instead.”
That pleased her, and she chuckled as she went to ladle more wine soup.
Since he wasn’t on night duty, Xie Jing could stay longer. Granny Kou didn’t rush him either—she knew he could afford a few copper coins for a carriage back. After all, she worried if she didn’t see him even for a day.
As they talked, a voice suddenly called from outside the courtyard gate. Someone was shouting his name—several times, the last one sharp and shrill, like a young girl’s voice.
“…Jing! Xie Jing!”
Xie Jing wrapped himself in a thick cotton robe and stepped out. The night was pitch-dark; he couldn’t see who it was. “Who’s there?” he called.
“It’s me! Don’t shout—I snuck out from the opera troupe! Open the door, please? I’m freezing! I’m wearing just one thin layer!” The voice trembled with cold, pleading.
Xie Jing cracked the door open—and a boy in white cotton shirt and trousers darted inside. His face was still streaked with half-removed stage paint—white and red patches making him look almost eerie in the dark.
Xie Jing frowned. “Little Lizi?”
“Yeah, yeah—it’s me!”
Xie Jing looked him up and down, recognizing him at last, and brought him inside.
This was the same Little Lizi from the opera troupe—the one who often snuck out to see him. But now, Xie Jing barely felt familiarity. Having lived his life twice, much of the past had grown hazy. He only vaguely remembered this boy as timid, always terrified of being beaten—bolting like a rabbit whenever a master approached.
Other than that—just one memory stood out.
The three copper coins.
When Xie Jing had first regained consciousness that year, he’d been robbed and beaten for his silver. It was Little Lizi who’d pressed three copper coins into his hand—enough for him to buy Granny Kou that sesame flatbread.
Author’s Note:
Xie Jing (flatly): “He is Kou Pei Feng.”
Bai Mingyu (furious): “Liar! You’re full of it, you rotten Xie Jing—nothing you say is true!”
