Chapter 48 The Emperor Asks About the Scenery, and the Marketplace Hides Worries
The morning mist hadn't yet dissipated when the Fang family's carriage rolled through the silent streets, heading towards the imperial palace. Fang Zhihang sat inside, his navy blue brocade robe meticulously tied at the collar. He held the nearly finalized version of "Jiangnan Fengwuzhi" in his hands, his fingertips gently stroking the cover with an indescribable nervousness.
This wasn't his first time in the palace, but he'd never felt as uneasy as he did today. He could still vividly remember the Emperor's extraordinary attention to Ci'er at the palace banquet yesterday. This morning, the Imperial Household Department summoned him, saying they wanted to inquire about editing matters. But he had a feeling there was a deeper meaning behind this summons.
"Master, we have arrived at the palace gate." The coachman's voice broke the silence in the carriage.
Fang Zhihang took a deep breath, straightened his clothes, and pushed the door open to get out. The vermilion palace walls towered majestically in the morning mist, the glazed tile roofs shimmering with a faint golden light, a solemnity that made one's heart tighten. He followed the eunuchs leading the way through the palace gates. The stone pavement stretched beneath his feet, and each step felt like a heavy weight on his heart.
Inside the imperial study, the air was filled with the scent of sandalwood. Qianlong stood by the window, gazing at the rising sun outside. His bright yellow dragon robe shone with a regal sheen in the morning light. Hearing footsteps, he slowly turned, his gaze settling on Fang Zhihang. With a gentle smile, he said, "Lord Fang, you're here. No need to be polite."
"Thank you, Your Majesty." Fang Zhihang bowed and presented the "Jiangnan Scenery Records" with both hands. "I am honored to have fulfilled your mission. This record is almost finalized and is presented to Your Majesty for your perusal."
Qianlong took the scroll and gently brushed the gold-plated characters on the cover with his fingertips, but asked casually, "It must have taken a lot of effort to edit this book. Is there anyone in your family who can help?" He turned the pages and his eyes fell on the illustrations of the Jiangnan water town. The black-sailed boats and bluestone slabs there looked very much like the Jiangnan described by Xiaoyanzi in his memory.
Fang Zhihang's heart moved, and he quickly replied: "My wife and my son Fang Yan occasionally help me. My little daughter Ci'er... has a naughty temper, but she often asks me to look at some illustrations, saying that she likes the scenery of Jiangnan." He didn't dare to mention his daughter too much, for fear of saying too much, so he just spoke in ordinary words.
"Oh? Miss Fang also likes Jiangnan?" A smile flashed in Qianlong's eyes, and his fingertips paused beside an apricot blossom in the illustration. "I remember that the apricot blossoms in Jiangnan are extremely beautiful. In March, they covered the bluestone slabs with snow. Miss Fang... do you often draw these?"
Fang Zhihang became more and more certain that the emperor was asking about Ci'er, and sweat broke out on his back: "My daughter does like painting, but her technique is rough. She should paint more of the city life, such as... the old locust tree in the courtyard in the south of the city, or the pancake stall on the street. They are not worthy of being displayed in a refined manner." He deliberately mentioned the courtyard to let the emperor know that his daughter's heart is more inclined to the city life, perhaps to reduce some of his attention.
Qianlong listened with increasing rapt attention, almost imagining Xiaoyanzi crouching in the courtyard, painting an old locust tree. Her coarse skirt stained with charcoal dust, the red silk ribbon at the end of her braid swaying gently as she moved. He closed the scroll, his tone gentle, "The life of the market is truly vibrant. Miss Fang has such a pure heart, which is truly precious." He paused, then changed the subject. "The book says that the sweet-scented osmanthus cakes of Jiangnan are the most refreshing and sweet. The recipes in the imperial kitchens lack a touch of earthy flavor. If Madam Fang can make it, could you... have Miss Fang bring some when she comes to the palace? It would give me a taste of authentic Jiangnan cuisine."
This was an almost direct invitation. Fang Zhihang's heart trembled, and he quickly bowed and replied, "Your Majesty... I will tell my wife when I get back, and ask her to teach my daughter something and send her to the palace another day." He lowered his eyelids, hiding the complexity in his eyes - this favor came too suddenly, and it made him worried.
Qianlong nodded with satisfaction and waved his hand, saying, "My dear minister, please leave. I will stay to read the local customs and features carefully." After Fang Zhihang's figure disappeared outside the imperial study, he opened the book again and gently stroked the word "Tongcheng" with his fingertips. That was Fang Ci's hometown and the place he failed to accompany Xiaoyanzi to in his previous life.
"Su Peisheng." He called softly.
"I'm here." Eunuch Su hurried forward.
"Send the set of four treasures of the study I received last year to the Fang family." Qianlong's eyes did not leave the scroll. "Say it's a reward... for Miss Fang, to encourage her to paint more."
Eunuch Su understood and bowed, "I obey your order." This wasn't a reward of the Four Treasures of the Study; it was clearly an opportunity for the Emperor to meet Miss Fang. He looked at the Emperor's focused profile and suddenly felt that this reborn Emperor's concern for Miss Fang was even greater than in his previous life.
Meanwhile, smoke curled up from the courtyard, mingling with the sweet aroma of pancakes, drifting across the bluestone slabs. Xiaoyanzi squatted by the coal stove, helping Liuhong add wood. The cuffs of her gray shorts were stained with charcoal ash. She cast aside the formality of the palace banquet and excitedly described the recipe for osmanthus cake: "...Choose freshly picked golden osmanthus, marinate it with sugar for three days, mix it with glutinous rice flour, and steam it. Sprinkle a handful of candied beans on it before serving. It's so sweet it's almost intoxicating!"
Liu Hong was spreading sweet bean paste on pancakes, and her moon-white cloth coat was stained with brown sauce. Hearing this, she smiled and patted the back of her hand: "Young lady, you are more excited than anyone when it comes to eating. I didn't see you eat even two bites of the osmanthus cake given by the emperor yesterday."
"The palace's fragrance is nothing like the fragrance at home!" Xiaoyanzi picked up a freshly baked pancake and bit into it with a crunching sound, not caring about the sesame seeds that fell on her clothes. "Sister Hong, the sweet noodle sauce you make is the best. It's a hundred times better than the one in the imperial kitchen!"
Liu Qing came back from outside, pushing his stall cart. The back of his blue shirt was soaked with sweat. He stacked the empty jars in the cart bed, a smile on his dark face. "Today, Shopkeeper Wang ordered another fifty pancakes. He said the restaurant customers love them! Xiaoyanzi, that 'spicy diced radish' recipe you taught me is really effective. It's so spicy that the customers are sweating, and they say the spicier it is, the tastier it is!"
Xiaoyanzi raised her chin proudly: "Of course! This is a secret recipe passed down from my ancestors - of course, it's a secret recipe I created myself!" As she was speaking, she suddenly caught a glimpse of Xiao Jian standing at the gate of the courtyard. The collar of his blue cotton robe was stained with morning dew, and his expression was a little solemn.
"Brother, why are you here?" Her heart skipped a beat and she felt inexplicably uneasy.
Xiao Jian walked in, his eyes sweeping over the pancakes and jars on the stone table. He lowered his voice, "Dad's back from the palace." He took Xiaoyanzi to the old locust tree, avoiding Liu Qing and Liu Hong's sight. "The emperor... asked about you and asked you to deliver the osmanthus cake to the palace."
Xiaoyanzi's fingers that were holding the pancake suddenly tightened, and the pancake crumbs fell to the ground: "I knew it was bad! Did he also ask the courtyard? Did he ask Liu Qing and Liu Hong?" The shadow of being interrogated in her previous life suddenly surged up, making her fingertips cold.
"I did ask, but Dad said you love painting everyday scenes." Xiao Jian felt a pang of sadness as he watched his sister's pale face. "The Emperor wasn't angry. He even gave you the Four Treasures of the Study, saying it encouraged you to paint." He paused, his tone warning, "Ci'er, I'm afraid you can't refuse this invitation from the palace. Be more careful when you go to the courtyard in the future, and don't let anyone catch you."
Xiaoyanzi lowered her head, looking at the bluestone slabs beneath her feet, where she'd painted a crooked little sun. The courtyard's smoke, the aroma of pancakes, the laughter of the young willows—these things that brought her peace of mind—suddenly seemed to be overshadowed. She clenched her fists, her voice tinged with grievance, "But I just love it here. I love being with Sister Hong and the others. Why do I have to go to that cold palace?"
Xiao Jian sighed and ruffled her hair. "I know. But we can't disobey the Emperor's order. Let's send the osmanthus cake first and see how things go." He pulled a small silver whistle from his sleeve pocket and pressed it into her hand. "This was given to me by Escort Commander Zheng. If there's an emergency, blow it and he'll bring someone over."
Little Swallow clutched the cold whistle, feeling even more gloomy. She looked up at the sky over the compound. It was as blue as a transparent gem, with white clouds drifting slowly. It was nothing like the sky over the palace, always framed by red walls, oppressive and suffocating.
"Oh, right," Xiao Jian suddenly remembered something, "Dad said the emperor read 'Jiangnan Fengwuzhi' and was very interested in the apricot blossoms in Tongcheng. Have you... ever painted apricot blossoms in Tongcheng?"
Little Swallow was stunned for a moment, then remembered that she had indeed painted a picture before. It was when she first arrived in the capital. Missing the spring in the south of the Yangtze River, she painted a tree full of apricot blossoms falling on the bluestone slabs. In the corner, she also drew a little girl chasing butterflies, her braid tied with a red ribbon. She didn't think the picture was good at the time, so she stuffed it under her bookcase.
"I did... but it wasn't good." Her voice trembled, a panic of being seen through. "How did he know? Did Dad show the painting to the Emperor?"
"No, Dad said you like to paint the market, but didn't mention apricot blossoms." Xiao Jian frowned even tighter, "The emperor... seems to know your preferences very well." This is what makes him most uneasy. The emperor's attention does not seem to be just accidental.
Little Swallow leaned against the old locust tree, watching the busy figures of Liu Qing and Liu Hong at the stone table. Little Bean ran by, holding malt sugar and laughing crisply. Suddenly, she felt very scared. She was afraid that this warm courtyard would be affected by the turmoil of the palace; she was afraid that these simple joys around her would be crushed by the rules and calculations.
She touched the jade pendant with the word "Yi" at her waist, and the coolness of the jade calmed her down a bit. No matter how the emperor knew, she would protect this safe haven.
"I'll deliver the osmanthus cake." She took a deep breath, a stubborn light rekindled in her eyes, "But I won't let them disturb the compound, disturb Sister Hong and Brother Liu Qing."
Xiao Jian saw the determination in his sister's eyes and nodded gently. The wind rustled through the leaves of the locust tree, as if echoing the brother and sister's determination. Unbeknownst to them, in the imperial study, Emperor Qianlong was tracing circles with his fingertips, a smile of determination playing on his lips.
He is determined to get this sweet-scented osmanthus cake. He will never let go of Xiaoyanzi in this life.
Smoke from the courtyards gradually rose, mingling with the sweet aroma of pancakes and the delicate fragrance of osmanthus, dispersing through the capital's morning mist. Yet within this warm, smoky atmosphere lay the threads of a palace undercurrent, waiting for a moment to unleash a turbulent tide in the fate of all.
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