Chapter 3 Men are like recipes; how boring men are!
"Miss, I've found out that Young Master Zhou went to Ci'an Temple on the winter solstice, and it's been five days now." Cang Dian was dressed in coarse brown clothes, looking exactly like the peddlers and laborers in the city. With his unremarkable features, he blended into the crowd like a drop of water into a river.
"According to the young monks who do the purchasing at the temple, according to custom, one should stay for at least half a month."
It's no secret that Zhou Yizhi spends a short stay at the temple every winter.
This is all thanks to the matriarch of the Zhou family, who has praised her grandson's filial piety on more than one occasion at banquets. She said that he goes to Ci'an Temple every year to devoutly worship Buddha in order to pray for her well-being.
Nodding slightly, Meng Lingyao said, "Thank you for your hard work."
"It's not hard work." Cang Dian laughed heartily, revealing two deep dimples on his cheeks, and his plain eyes instantly became brighter. "Today I also helped the vegetable vendors in the south of the city sell out their vegetables, and they gave me fifty copper coins."
"Fine!" Songlan pretended to be angry. "Miss asked you to do something, and you went out and made some extra money."
“If I didn’t do that, how could they let me stay at their stall for half a day?” Cang Dian grabbed a handful of copper coins and laughed, “Good sister, I’ll give you half. Please put in a good word for me with the young lady. Next time you need this kind of work, call me again.”
"Go away, who wants your money?" Songlan said disdainfully. "Go down and change your clothes. You're covered in dust. Aren't you afraid of offending Miss?"
Cang Dian still smiled, bowed to Meng Lingyao, and withdrew.
Both of them were servants of the Meng family and grew up almost alongside Meng Lingyao. Needless to say, they had a deep bond. One was in charge of external affairs and the other was in charge of internal affairs. They were her right-hand men, and neither of them could be separated from her.
Meng Lingyao did not reveal her dream to them. It was something that had not yet happened, and telling them would only increase their worries. Moreover, given Songlan's timidity, she would probably be too worried to sleep at night if she knew.
Fortunately, Songlan and Cangdian never questioned her decisions.
"Miss, the water is ready."
The maidservant outside brought in water at the perfect temperature, along with spices such as angelica and orchid leaves.
After Meng Lingyao washed and dried her hands, Songlan took the plum blossom scented balm from the dressing table drawer, applied it layer by layer, spread it evenly, and then massaged it with neither too much nor too little pressure.
Winter winds are strong, and charcoal fires are often lit indoors. If you are not careful, your hands can easily become dry and cracked.
As Songlan thought this, she became even more careful with her movements, her mind constantly replaying the massage techniques she had learned from the old nanny in the palace.
He occasionally drifted off into thought, wondering why the young lady had suddenly become indifferent to Lord Lu's gift and instead started inquiring about Young Master Zhou.
I figured it out in just a few seconds.
If the young lady is tired of shrimp rolls, what's wrong with changing the menu to eight-treasure wild duck the next day?
It's just human nature.
Meng Lingyao had no idea what the girl was thinking. One moment her eyebrows were furrowed, and the next she smiled as if she had suddenly realized something. But she didn't neglect her work.
She looked down at her hands, which were slender, white, and had a faint fragrance of plum blossoms.
Becoming a fairy is clearly not an easy task. Not only does one need a beautiful face, but one's neck and hands also require attention. To achieve beauty in every aspect requires time, and even more so, money.
This small box of perfume alone costs two taels of silver.
Meng Lingyao occasionally flipped through some popular storybooks in the capital. She couldn't help but laugh when she saw the plot of a rich young lady running off to a poor scholar for so-called true love, being both elegant in the living room and good at cooking, and the scholar boasting about having such a virtuous and beautiful wife.
How can one have skin as white as snow when exposed to cooking fumes every day? How can one have delicate, beautiful hands when washing clothes by oneself?
It was probably a delusional fantasy of a poor scholar who repeatedly failed the imperial examinations and went insane.
From this perspective, Zhou Yizhi is indeed an excellent choice for a husband.
At least the Zhou family is truly incredibly wealthy.
Scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants—in theory, merchants should be the lowest class, but the Zhou family is different.
When Emperor Taizu started his rebellion, the Zhou family escorted thirty boats of grain and fodder. In the most critical moment, they even gave away most of their family fortune to relieve Emperor Taizu's urgent need. After the country was at peace, they were rewarded for their contributions, and the Zhou family was granted the title of Earl of Deshan.
The Zhou family's ancestor was a wise man who repeatedly declined the title, saying that his virtue was unworthy of the position and he dared not accept it. The Emperor Taizu tried to persuade him to stay several times but to no avail, so he had no choice but to agree, but he specially decreed that the Zhou family could inherit the title of imperial merchant.
Now the Zhou family's business is growing bigger and bigger, and even the tribute silks for the palace have to pass through the Zhou family's hands.
In recent years, the eldest son, Zhou Yizhi, has shown signs of inheriting the family business, making him a highly sought-after figure in the capital.
Two days later, it was a sunny day. The snow on the ground melted, but the temperature was colder than when it snowed.
Songlan brought over a sky-blue cloak. "Miss, the weather is nice today, and this cloak is the perfect color."
"Change to the white one." Meng Lingyao carefully outlined her eyes in front of the mirror. Her eyes were round and soft, but lacked a sense of distance. Therefore, she always made sure to lift the outer corners of her eyes when applying makeup, so that she would appear more aloof.
"The temple walls are mostly red, which goes better with white."
As she said this, Meng Lingyao's mind involuntarily conjured up the scene from a few days ago: the young man in white fur and fox fur walking under the vermilion corridor.
Although she had never liked Pei Xu, she had to admit that he had a handsome appearance.
With a soft hum, Meng Lingyao repeatedly checked her makeup, and after confirming that it was flawless, she put down Qingdai.
The carriage traveled for about an hour before arriving at Ci'an Temple outside the city.
The wintersweet in the temple is in full bloom, and the fragrant aroma mingles with the ever-present sandalwood, making people feel dizzy.
Meng Lingyao took the vermilion brush handed to her by the monk in charge of receiving guests and crossed out one hundred taels in the merit book. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Zhou Yizhi had added one thousand taels on the previous page, and her brush paused involuntarily. Once again, she marveled at the Zhou family's immense wealth.
You should know that her father's annual salary was only three hundred taels. If it weren't for the family's savings and her mother's skill in managing them, she wouldn't have been able to easily add one hundred taels for incense money.
"Miss Meng, are you here to add sesame oil too?" A clear male voice sounded from behind.
As Meng Lingyao turned around, she subtly revealed a hint of surprise. "Young Master Zhou?" Pulling her white fox fur coat tighter, she helped Song Lan to her feet and explained simply, "My father said that the heavy snow this winter might disturb the earth's veins. Therefore, I have come to pay my respects today..."
With her hands clasped together in front of her chest, she said softly, "May you have peace and safety every year."
Sunlight streamed over the eaves of the ancient temple, and a woman stood quietly before the Buddha hall, her lowered eyelashes swirling with the smoke from the incense, resembling a goddess descending to earth from a mural. Her white robes contrasted sharply with the vermilion pillars, deeply captivating the viewer's eye.
Zhou Yizhi's expression shifted slightly, as if he were quite moved. "Lord Meng cares deeply for the people, and so does Miss Meng."
As Meng Lingyao watched him stride forward and add another thousand taels to the merit book with a flourish of his pen, a slight smile crept onto her lips.
"In this cold winter, I, Zhou, have done my part in doing what is my humble ability."
The monk beside him smiled broadly. "Thank you both. Heaven is on your side, and your wishes will surely come true."
Zhou Yizhi returned the cinnabar brush and replied, "Abbot, you're too kind." His affectionate peach blossom eyes turned to Meng Lingyao again, "Thanks to Miss Meng. Otherwise, a common person like me would only be thinking about my own little family and would never think of others."
Meng Lingyao did not respond to his praise, but smiled and said, "I will go back and tell my father that his words are worth a thousand pieces of gold."
Zhou Yizhi smiled, his eyes crinkling. "Yes, it was thanks to Lord Meng that I, this unscrupulous merchant, was given the chance to atone to Buddha."
Being both a vulgar person and a shrewd businessman, this Mr. Zhou probably knew that he was ostentatious about his wealth, so he always kept a very humble attitude.
However, compared to those men who have nothing but are arrogant, Meng Lingyao still thinks men who are good at being humble and subservient are better.
Who says the smell of money is unpleasant?
Nine out of ten people who say this are empty-handed.
"At this time of year, the wintersweet in the backyard of Ci'an Temple is in full bloom. Would Miss Meng like to go and see it?" Zhou Yizhi glanced at the sky, turned around, and extended an invitation. "I have been staying at the temple for some time now. If Miss doesn't mind..."
Zhou Yizhi did not finish speaking, but waited quietly for a reply, his eyes gazing intently at her. His peacock blue brocade robe was intricately woven with gold thread, reflecting a dazzling halo of light under the sun.
Meng Lingyao hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
Zhou Yizhi's smile deepened.
The plum tree in the courtyard has strong branches and pale yellow flowers shaped like golden bells. The petals have a translucent texture, as if they were carved from amber or jade.
Zhou Yizhi was a frequent visitor to the temple, and whenever a monk passed by, they would stop to greet him.
As Meng Lingyao observed, she felt that Ci'an Temple truly lived up to its reputation as the largest temple in the capital, as even the monks there were more handsome than elsewhere.
The fragrance of wintersweet is delicate and slightly bitter. A few plants, even a faint scent, can be delightful, but when planted in large, dense areas, it becomes too overpowering.
Not to mention that Zhou Yizhi was by her side.
He didn't smell of money at all; instead, he was infused with the scent of sandalwood, making him stand out even among the flowers.
Could it be that I've been spending all my time surrounded by sandalwood incense?
It's too strong.
Meng Lingyao didn't like it very much.
After strolling around for half an hour, Meng Lingyao decided not to force herself any further and glanced at Song Lan.
Songlan moved a little closer and said softly, "Miss, it's getting late. Madam instructed you to go home early today."
"My mother had some instructions before I left, and I need to have dinner with her today..." Meng Lingyao said apologetically, "I'll take my leave now."
"Perfect."
"Yesterday, the abbot of Ci'an Temple returned from his travels and gave me a peace charm, which I was about to present to my grandmother on my way home." Zhou Yizhi smiled and said, "I wonder if I could have the honor of seeing you off again, Miss?"
There was only one road into the city, so whether she agreed or not was the same, and Meng Lingyao readily agreed.
Ultimately, she would ride in a carriage, while Zhou Yizhi, if he wanted to maintain his composure, would ride a horse; if he was worried about getting cold, he would ride in his own carriage. It wouldn't bother him.
Meng Lingyao's gaze swept over Zhou Yizhi's gold-inlaid jade crown that bound his hair, and her eyebrows lifted slightly.
She guessed that he would choose the former.
Soon, the horse handler led out a pure white horse without a single stray hair. Zhou Yizhi stroked the horse's mane and then mounted it.
Meng Lingyao loosened her grip and lowered the curtain of the sedan chair window.
Men are so boring.
As the carriage returned to the city and reached the official road, it suddenly lurched violently. The sound of horses neighing came from outside, and Meng Lingyao gripped the window frame tightly to steady herself.
Outside the carriage curtain, a mumbled sentence was heard amidst the commotion.
"Don't stop..."
A note from the author:
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Baidu Baike (a Chinese encyclopedia website) indicates that the term "extra income" originates from "The Unofficial History of the Bureaucracy," a long novel written by Li Boyuan, a late Qing Dynasty writer. This probably explains why "extra income" isn't a particularly modern term, and its inclusion in the text shouldn't seem too out of place.
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