Chapter 343 Extra Chapter 3: Cheng Jiaojiao and Zhao Jingxing
Spring arrives earlier in Jiangnan than in the capital, and is gentler than in the north.
The fine rain, as soft as butter, silently moistened the bluestone path and coaxed the pink and white apricot blossoms to bloom along the riverbank.
The air was filled with a mixture of moisture, earth, and a faint floral scent, both thick and refreshing.
In a small courtyard by the river, the door was ajar, and an old apricot tree in the courtyard was in full bloom.
Cheng Jiaojiao was under the tree.
Now she should be called Chen Jiao.
He was rolling up his sleeves, struggling with a live fish in a wooden basin.
The fish were slippery and slipped from her fingers several times, splashing water that wet her front and forehead.
She wrinkled her nose, pursed her lips, but her eyes were full of focus and resentment, as if she were facing not a fish, but some difficult obstacle that needed to be overcome.
I have been in this place called "Qishui Town" in Jiangnan for a year now.
The initial fear, novelty, and longing for family in the capital were gradually soothed by the mundane routines of daily life.
The Ji family made extremely good arrangements, telling everyone that she was a distant cousin who had come to seek refuge with relatives in the north after a disaster.
The town was small, and the people were simple and honest. The neighbors were initially curious, but seeing that she was pretty but rarely went out, only learning some skills and taking care of household chores from the old craftsman couple who were temporarily staying there, they gradually got used to it.
She learned many things she would never have done before in the Marquis's mansion or in the capital: starting a fire to cook, washing clothes, tending a small vegetable patch in the corner of the yard, and even learning from the old lady next door how to wrap zongzi (sticky rice dumplings) with reed leaves.
Occasionally, her fingers would be pricked by needles, burned by the stove fire, or cut by fish fins. At first, she would feel wronged and want to cry, thinking of her mother, her brother, and her sister Jiang.
But slowly, the wound scabbed over and became a faint mark. She also learned to be more careful and more skilled.
Just like dealing with this fish right now.
After several failures, she simply wrapped the fish head in a clean cloth, held it down with one hand, picked up the cleaver with the other, recalled the steps Sister Jiang taught her to make sweet and sour fish in the Marquis's mansion, found the right spot, and slammed it down hard!
With a thud, the fish's tail trembled slightly, and it stopped struggling.
She breathed a sigh of relief, a hint of smugness on her face.
There were maids and cooks in the courtyard, but she insisted on doing it herself.
She is no longer a noble lady from the capital. Since she has decided to be an ordinary person, she should live an ordinary life.
The old craftsman's surname was Xu. He was an old servant of Madam Ji's family. He had no children, and the couple treated him very well, asking few questions and taking care of him silently.
Grandma Xu poked her head out of the kitchen window and said with a smile, "Young lady, the fish needs to be marinated with ginger slices and wine first to remove the fishy smell."
"Okay, Grandma Xu," Chen Jiao replied loudly, wiping the sweat from her forehead.
A year of ordinary life washed away the inherent pamperedness of a noblewoman, but gave her a different kind of vitality.
She had lost some weight, and her skin, nourished by the moisture of Jiangnan, was fair and delicate. Because she worked often, her cheeks had a healthy rosy glow.
Those once bright and lively eyes now hold more tranquility.
She still disliked elaborate dresses and often wore a simple cotton ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress), with her hair simply tied up and secured with a wooden hairpin.
After preparing and marinating the fish, she went to check on the chicken soup simmering on the stove.
This is what Grandma Xu taught her to make tonic for Old Man Xu, saying it's good for the old man.
She carefully skimmed off the foam, added the soaked mushrooms, covered the pot, and continued to simmer over low heat.
A warm aroma gradually filled the kitchen.
In the afternoon, the rain stopped and the clouds parted, allowing sunlight to filter through and make the wet stone slabs in the courtyard gleam.
Chen Jiao moved a small bamboo chair and sat under the eaves, with a small embroidery hoop on her lap, learning to embroider a handkerchief.
Her needlework was really not good; the stitches were crooked, and even the simple orchids she embroidered were out of shape.
But she was extremely patient, unraveling the embroidery and re-embroidering it, never giving up.
Occasionally, she would stop her needlework and gaze at the quiet river flowing outside the courtyard gate, where awning boats glide slowly by, and the boatwomen hum soft, gentle Jiangnan tunes.
My thoughts drifted far away, to the capital, to whether my family was well, to Sister Jiang and my old friends.
But more than anything, there was an unprecedented sense of peace.
The days flowed quietly by amidst the drizzle, cooking smoke, needlework, and the occasional clumsy yet vibrant labor.
Two days later, at dusk, the sky suddenly darkened, a strong wind picked up, and a sudden rainstorm seemed imminent.
Chen Jiao remembered that the bedding hanging in the yard had not yet been brought in, so she hurriedly ran out.
Just as I took one of the blankets in, large raindrops began to pelt down.
She was frantically grabbing the bedding, and the other bed was about to get soaked.
Suddenly, darkness fell overhead, and the sound of rain seemed to be cut off.
She looked up and saw a large blue cloth umbrella steadily covering her.
Zhao Jingxing appeared out of nowhere, holding an umbrella in one hand and deftly taking the quilt away for her with the other, folding it neatly and tucking it under his arm.
“Brother Zhao…” Chen Jiao hugged the quilt in her arms, her eyes instantly filled with joy after her initial surprise.
Zhao Jingxing held up the umbrella, protecting her along with the bedding in his arms, and quickly escorted her to the eaves.
His own shoulder was exposed outside the umbrella and was instantly soaked by the rain.
"Go inside quickly, don't catch a cold." His voice was calm and steady, with its usual simplicity.
Chen Jiao patted the raindrops off her clothes and hurriedly asked, "Brother Zhao, what brings you here?"
About six months after she arrived in Jiangnan, Zhao Jingxing was "coincidentally" transferred there as well.
When they first met by chance on a street corner, she almost thought it was a hallucination caused by her longing for an old friend.
The bittersweet feeling of meeting an old friend in a foreign land welled up in her heart. Recalling the moments they spent together in the capital and on the road to the marriage alliance, Chen Jiao's hidden feelings for him instantly burst forth.
Zhao Jingxing folded the umbrella, the wet fabric clinging to his shoulders and arms, vaguely revealing the smooth and powerful contours of his muscles.
This was a man who had truly fought on the battlefield, completely out of place with the gentle breeze and drizzle of Jiangnan. Yet, he stood under her eaves, his shoulders soaked, just to shield her from a sudden downpour.
He casually brushed the water droplets from his hair and took out a letter from his pocket: "Miss Jiang has written again, and she also sent many of your favorite snacks. I thought you must be eager to read the letter, so I delivered it on my way."
"Really! Sister Jiang wrote again." Chen Jiao's face immediately lit up with a bright smile as she reached out to take the letter.
"And also," Zhao Jingxing paused, his gaze falling on her eyes that had suddenly brightened, his voice unconsciously softening.
"Next month is the new emperor's birthday, and I will be returning to the capital. I will depart in three days. If there is anything you want to say or take back, I will bring it back for you."
After hearing this, Chen Jiao immediately began preparations.
As soon as the weather cleared up, he took his maid Xiaoyue to the street to shop.
She wanted to buy all the unique items from Jiangnan that were not available in the capital!
I haven't even had time to eat these past two days, I've been busy packing gifts.
This is for Mother, this is for Sister Jiang, this is...
As she was dividing the items, she suddenly remembered that Cheng Jiaojiao was already dead...
In the end, the gifts were packed into two bags, one for Jiang Ling and one for her mother.
On the night before her departure, Chen Jiao stayed up all night writing, recounting her experiences there.
It describes the apricot blossoms and misty rain in Qishui Town, her success in making fish soup that wasn't fishy, the pickled vegetable recipe taught by Granny Xu, and the creaking sound of the awning boats on the river...
Trivial details, ordinary and mundane, yet the pages are brimming with the vibrant atmosphere of life.
With simple luggage and that weighty entrustment, Zhao Jingxing headed north with the team.
Life seemed to have returned to what it used to be.
Drizzle, apricot blossoms, cooking smoke, needle and thread.
Chen Jiao continued to learn to cook, but still occasionally failed; her embroidery was still crooked and uneven; when she went to the dock to buy seafood, she would always subconsciously look towards Liu's boat at the east end first.
She began to pay attention to news from the border, from the scattered conversations of past merchants, and from the outdated copies of the imperial gazette that Old Man Xu occasionally read.
As spring deepened and summer faded, and the apricot blossoms fell and small green fruits began to appear, Chen Jiao received a letter that had been secretly delivered through the Ji family's channels.
Unsigned, the handwriting is strong and forceful, containing only a few words:
"The northern border is now at peace. All is well. Take care."
Holding the thin letter, Chen Jiao stood under the apricot tree, looking up at the unripe fruit on the branches. Suddenly, she felt that this summer in Jiangnan might not be so long, nor so lonely.
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