Chapter 75 — Auntie
Xie Jing collected the money and turned to leave.
Li Yuan hurried after him, staying close behind, cautious and careful.
The people at the entrance kept their eyes on them, but only watched—they didn’t block the way.
It seemed timed perfectly: a black sedan was parked at the gambling hall’s entrance. The driver got out, opened the door for Xie Jing and the others, and only after they got in did he return to drive the car away.
It wasn’t until the black sedan had driven a distance that the people at the gambling hall bent over and ran back to report to their master.
Inside the black sedan, Bai Mingyu was counting silver bills, as meticulous as Xie Jing had been just now. When finished, he pulled out one bill, handed it to Xie Jing, and, smiling broadly, tucked the rest under his arm. “Now the railway freight is fully covered. Adding the previous amount, it comes to exactly ten thousand silver—no need to go to a commercial house to exchange checks.”
Xie Jing took it and handed it to Li Yuan: “Here, this share of the money is for you.”
Li Yuan waved his hand in refusal, murmuring a few words, but Bai Mingyu said, “Just take it. It’s only about a thousand silver. You take it—go buy a house, some land, or open a big tavern for Grandma. What’s wrong with that? I’ve never seen someone refuse money.”
Li Yuan finally accepted it and carefully put it away.
He had been following Xie Jing in Nanfang for two months. At first, Grandma Kou worried and sent him to keep an eye on things. Once here, Xie Jing noticed that he had a talent for gambling, so he stayed by Xie Jing’s side to work. Li Yuan had a sharp mind for numbers; he rarely made mistakes at gambling tables. Only if a casino cheated could he be caught off guard. In fair establishments, he often won big.
Tonight’s casino was one of the fairer ones.
Xie Jing sat in the car, looking out the window. Streetlights lined the roads, and bells on the railway occasionally rang to warn vehicles. Far-off train whistles reminded him constantly that this place was very different from before.
He and Bai Mingyu had been in Nanfang for nearly a year.
Lost in thought, Xie Jing was interrupted when Bai Mingyu cleared his throat and pulled an envelope from his chest.
Xie Jing’s eyes fell on it, and he sat up straight. “Letter from Lord Bai Jiu?” he asked.
Bai Mingyu shook his head. “No, it’s from the provincial governor’s old master.”
Xie Jing wasn’t very interested and turned his gaze back to the street outside.
Bai Mingyu said, “The old master said Lord Bai Jiu will be returning to the country soon. The fleet is gradually setting off; in about half a month, they should arrive…” Before he could finish, Xie Jing reached for the letter. Bai Mingyu didn’t dare tease him this time and handed it over: “I’m not lying. Check for yourself.”
Xie Jing opened it and read rapidly, confirming Lord Bai Jiu’s return. His eyes lit up as he looked at the date: “The letter came ten days ago. His return is just about now.”
Bai Mingyu shrugged. “It’s hard to be sure. Lord Bai Jiu caused quite a stir abroad. He’ll probably go to the governor’s office first. Even if he comes to Nanfang, it’ll be half a month later. Plus, he needs a few days’ rest; his recent illness isn’t fully healed—” He stopped himself mid-sentence. But it was too late. Xie Jing furrowed his brow and asked, “He’s sick?”
Bai Mingyu scratched his head. “Not too serious. Heard it’s a cold. Took a few doses of medicine, but no improvement—probably too cold there. He’ll rest a while when he gets back. Lord Bai Jiu didn’t want me to tell you. Besides, being in Nanfang, it won’t help even if you worry.”
Xie Jing didn’t respond.
He carefully read the letter again, then returned it to Bai Mingyu.
Bai Mingyu cautiously asked, “Little Xie, are you angry?”
Xie Jing shook his head calmly. “No.”
Bai Mingyu was right—being in Nanfang, he couldn’t do anything.
Xie Jing’s mood soured, and Bai Mingyu dared not speak much on the journey. Xie Jing’s young master temperament only mattered outside; in the eastern mansion, no one feared him.
Moreover, for some reason, after nearly a year of interactions, whenever Bai Mingyu and Xie Jing were alone, Bai Mingyu felt inexplicably intimidated—like Lord Bai Jiu had appointed someone specifically to watch over him. Xie Jing’s temperament and methods increasingly resembled Lord Bai Jiu’s.
The car entered a row of Russian-style villas, stopping at one with a garden.
Bai Mingyu got out. This was their residence in Nanfang, secure and private, with two bodyguards stationed at the entrance around the clock. Bai Mingyu stayed on the second floor, Xie Jing and Li Yuan on the top floor, each with a room. A maid cooked daily meals—simple fare, which the young men didn’t mind.
Opening the door, Bai Mingyu found an uninvited guest on the living room sofa.
A girl with wavy curls in a Western dress sat there, a white mink shawl draped over the armrest. Seeing them, she glared angrily. “Bai Mingyu, you still know how to come back!”
Bai Mingyu was momentarily intimidated but soon stood his ground: “Why can’t I return? This is my home. But you—Bai Hongqi—why is a girl running here at night?”
Bai Hongqi’s chest heaved as she laughed in frustration, then stood: “You dare ask? I was at the embassy ball when suddenly called to clean up a mess. Do you know who runs the Sanjin Gambling Hall?”
Xie Jing, walking behind, paused. Sanjin Gambling Hall was exactly the place they had won money tonight.
“Just played two rounds…” he muttered.
“Two rounds? You gambled for two days!”
Bai Mingyu rubbed his nose, humming: “Funds are tight; didn’t want to go back to the provincial office, so temporarily ‘borrowed’ some money.”
Bai Hongqi was furious: “There are so many gambling halls in Nanfang! You can’t just target one! Why not take money from another?”
Bai Mingyu, annoyed, stood his ground: “I knew you’d never complain when we won elsewhere. Why is Sanjin different? That young master—you were sent back by him before, right? I advise you, don’t get tangled with these people, especially Zhu Xin. He has many concubines—careful, or you might be a third wife!”
“You—!”
The two Bai family managers often acted formidable outside, but at home, chaos reigned. Arguments flared immediately.
Bai Mingyu found this “auntie” ridiculous; every time he thought of her meddling with the young master, he felt suffocated.
Bai Hongqi was genuinely irritated; Bai Mingyu seemed like a stubborn little troublemaker.
Xie Jing, hearing enough and noting nothing serious, went upstairs.
The two downstairs had never gotten along in a year—he had grown accustomed.
If ever they sat together peacefully, that would truly be a miracle.
Xie Jing entered his room, with only a few clothes and a leather suitcase brought from the eastern mansion.
Even with the door closed, he could hear faint quarrels downstairs. Normally, he would have slept already, but tonight, sleep wouldn’t come.
He opened his suitcase—mostly empty, containing a few items: papers filled with writing, an inkstone, a quality yellow pearwood paperweight, and a few thin letters underneath.
He picked one letter, examining every word carefully.
Lord Bai Jiu was far away, and letters were rare, inconvenient to send. Most were formal inquiries about their well-being.
Xie Jing’s fingers traced the handwriting—elegant and clear, revealing the person behind the words.
The person he missed every day.
He memorized the letter, held it against his chest, and slowly closed his eyes to sleep.
For two days, Xie Jing did not go out, staying in a Nanfang commercial shop, uninterested in casinos.
Bai Mingyu tried encouraging him several times, but Xie Jing merely fiddled with an abacus, murmuring responses without moving. When urged, he said: “Feeling weary these days, afraid luck will turn, might lose money.”
Bai Mingyu wasn’t after money himself—he just disliked Sanjin’s young master. He asked: “Little Xie, really not going? Yesterday, that Zhu guy even said we could come anytime.”
Xie Jing lazily rested his cheek in his hand, manipulating the abacus, fingers delicate and pale, clicking the beads crisply: “Not going.”
Bai Mingyu, raised with him, was stunned, then looked away from his fingers and scratched his head. “Oh, if not, then rest. You must be tired.”
Xie Jing lifted his eyes: “I feel unwell.”
Bai Mingyu startled: “Want a doctor?”
Xie Jing frowned slightly: “No local doctor can help. I want to return to the provincial capital.”
Xie Jing’s face was deceivingly youthful. Two years ago, it lowered defenses; now, a year later, his features blossomed like a flower overnight—between youth and adolescence, strikingly beautiful. Eyes and lips sharp, defining gender unmistakably.
If a female shopkeeper sat opposite, she would nod immediately.
But Bai Mingyu, a naïve fellow, frowned, inspecting him slowly: “You’re not sick—just trying to slack off.”
Xie Jing leaned back in the chair. “Yes, a year here, tired of it. Can I go home to visit?”
Bai Mingyu insisted: “No. Lord Bai Jiu said we must stay here.”
Xie Jing tried a different approach: “What if I go home two days, return immediately?”
“Is Grandma sick? If so—”
Xie Jing cut him off: “Grandma is fine. Nothing serious. Forget it, I’ll check later.”
At that moment, a servant announced loudly: “Manager Bai has arrived—”
Besides Bai Mingyu, only Bai Hongqi could be addressed this way.
She entered in a modified riding outfit, cloak draped over her shoulders, walking straight to them: “You’re here, no need to inform me again. Tomorrow, I arranged a show at the theater, inviting several gambling hall owners for dinner and opera. Your companions are arranged. You only need to toast.”
Seeing Bai Mingyu open his mouth, she scoffed: “Second Young Master, don’t make me angry again. I’m setting this up for you—Nanfang is chaotic. You took tens of thousands of silver; I advise you to bow your head.”
Xie Jing asked, “Tomorrow, when?”
Her tone softened, handing him an invitation: “Tomorrow afternoon, watch the opera, evening dinner. I cannot attend, so a senior from the clan and a few scholars will accompany. With them, all issues can be settled. Business has no grudges, right? What you did at Sanjin was too much; Bai Mingyu and Zhu Xin clash—you toast on his behalf.”
Xie Jing nodded.
She softened further: “I knew you understood. Luckily, Lord Bai Jiu sent you with Bai Mingyu. If someone else, who could control that little monkey?”
Bai Mingyu: “…”
Bai Mingyu awkwardly escorted her out, deliberately calling from the door: “Auntie, be careful on the road!” The first two words were loud; she flushed with anger.
Xie Jing examined the invitation—conveniently, the opera was by a familiar troupe, Shang Yulou.
Shang Yulou’s performances had grown popular in the past two years. Bai Hongqi had called in favors to arrange this show quickly.
