Chapter One: Yangzhou in the Mist and Rain
In the late spring of the twentieth year of the Qianlong Emperor's reign, Yangzhou was shrouded in a lingering misty rain, and the surface of the Grand Canal shimmered like scattered silver.
The city is alive—the sound of oars from the canal boats awakens the morning light, the salty smell of the salt warehouses permeates the streets and alleys, and even the cracks in the bluestone slabs of Dongguan Street are filled with the sounds of stringed instruments and copper coins clattering.
The prosperity of Jiangnan is no exaggeration. Just look at the upturned eaves of the gardens throughout the city and the gilded bronze rings on the vermilion gates of the salt merchants' mansions, and you'll know that the title of "famous capital of Huaizuo" is not an exaggeration at all.
As the morning light painted the horizon a pale gold, the dock at Dongguan Ancient Ferry was already boiling like a pot of porridge.
The canal boats were lined up end to end, their dark hulls pressing down on the water and causing them to sink slightly. The characters "漕" (canal) and "盐" (salt) on the sails were blurred by the water mist, but they still conveyed a heavy sense of weight.
The porters, their backs bare, sweat beading on their bronze skin, carried salt sacks weighing at least a hundred pounds, their backs bent as they trudged back and forth on creaking planks.
The rough shouts of the workers, like sandpaper, mixed with the fishy smell of the river, the salty astringency of the salt grains, and the crisp "clatter" of the money changers counting silver, brewed a unique atmosphere of life in the humid air that belonged to Yangzhou.
As you walk along the pier into the city, the scenery becomes increasingly vibrant.
The shop assistants at the silk shop were hanging bolts of brocade under the eaves. The crimson ones resembled the sunset, the sapphire blue ones were like a deep pool, and the bright yellow ones reflected the morning light. They fluttered in the wind, attracting passing young ladies to stop and gaze at them in admiration.
The windows on the second floor of the teahouse were open, and the fragrance of Longjing tea mingled with the storyteller's voice. With a "snap," the sound of the gavel echoed through the teahouse, and the cheers from the audience drowned out the noise of the street.
The steamers at the dim sum shop were stacked higher than a person. In the rising steam, the emerald green of the jade-colored shumai and the golden yellow of the thousand-layer oil cake were faintly visible. The shopkeeper's call carried the soft, gentle tone characteristic of Jiangnan: "Freshly steamed dim sum!"
Further in, you'll find Dongguan Street, where salt merchants used to live.
The vermilion gate of the Shen Mansion stands out among the other residences. The plaque above the gate, inscribed with "Loyalty and Integrity Throughout the Generations," shines brightly after being washed by the rain. The stone lions on both sides hold stone balls in their mouths and have majestic eyes.
The mansion covers an area of 100 acres, and the rockery and water features are all the work of famous artists. The main courtyard, Songtao Garden, alone has dozens of ancient pines that are hundreds of years old. When the wind blows through the pine branches, the sound of waves is like the sound of waves, and even the copper bells on the eaves ring softly, making it more tranquil than other places.
As dawn broke through the carved window lattices, it cast dappled light and shadow on the blue brick floor of Songtao Garden.
Madam Shen Qin, the matriarch of the Shen family, was already sitting in front of her dressing table. She was nearly sixty years old, and although her temples were streaked with gray, she still stood tall and straight. She wore a dark blue satin jacket with silver trim, and a fine pearl was pinned to her collar. Every gesture she made exuded the elegance of a matriarch of a noble family.
At this moment, the sandalwood prayer beads in her hand were spinning very fast, her fingertips repeatedly stroking the last bead, and the deep lines between her brows, like the sorrow etched by time, lingered for a long time.
Her trusted confidante, Rong Momo, stood behind her, holding an ivory comb in her hand, with a strand of gray hair wrapped around its teeth.
Rong Momo had been in the Shen family for over forty years, having followed the old lady since she married into the household. She was one of the few people in the family who knew the "secret".
She combed her hair very gently, afraid of hurting the old lady, and even her breathing was very slow, but she couldn't help but glance at the old lady's expression in the mirror out of the corner of her eye.
"Lan'er... has she set off?" The old lady's voice was low, with a hint of hoarseness that broke the silence in the room. In the mirror, her eyelids were slightly lowered, concealing the worry in her eyes.
Rong Momo paused for a moment, then continued to style the old lady's "peony bun" and replied in a low voice: "Reporting to the old lady, the young master took Shenfu to the West Warehouse before dawn. The cargo ship from Songjiang Prefecture arrived yesterday evening, saying that there was a batch of urgent goods that needed to be transported to the capital within three days. The young master was worried and insisted on going to inspect it himself before he would be satisfied."
When she mentioned the word "Young Master," Rong Momo's voice softened involuntarily. "These past few days, the Young Master has barely slept. During the day, he has to oversee the salt warehouse and meet with the canal guild, and at night he has to work in the accounting room until the wee hours. Yesterday, when I went to deliver the ginseng soup, I saw that his eyes were bloodshot..."
Upon hearing this, the old lady sighed deeply, and the turning of the prayer beads stopped.
She raised her hand and rubbed her temples; the skin beneath her fingertips was loose, yet still held a certain resilience. "This burden of the Shen family shouldn't have fallen on her shoulders." Her voice was full of heartache and helplessness. "If her father hadn't encountered bandits on the canal transport route and left in such a hurry, the second branch wouldn't have relied on their numbers to covet the power to manage the household every day..." She stopped abruptly, her gaze sweeping out the window—the maids under the eaves were sweeping on tiptoe, and whispers of servants could be heard from behind the artificial hill in the distance.
The old lady gave Rong Mama a wink, and Rong Mama immediately understood. She quickly walked to the door, closed it even tighter, listened carefully to the sounds outside, and then went back to the dressing table, leaning down to whisper in the old lady's ear.
The old lady lowered her voice even further, so that only the two of them could hear it: "Is 'that side' being managed properly? There can't be the slightest mistake. The people from the second branch of the family are very sharp-eyed. A few days ago, Shen Lu even used the excuse of delivering something to loiter outside Lan'er's study for quite a while."
Rong Momo's expression hardened, and she put down the comb in her hand. She leaned close to the old lady's ear and said solemnly, "Old lady, please rest assured, every morning this old servant personally serves 'Young Master' by shaving his head and combing his hair. It's just..." She hesitated for a moment, her eyes full of reluctance, "Every time I shave 'Young Master's' stubble,' seeing those tiny hairs fall into the copper basin, you may not have seen it, but sometimes Young Master's scalp will turn red from the shaving, but he never complains of pain. He only says, 'Hurry up, Momo, so as not to miss the time.'"
The old lady closed her eyes, and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes seemed to deepen even more.
She didn't speak again, but simply picked up her prayer beads again. The only sounds in the room were the soft clinking of the beads, the gentle rustling of the pines outside the window, and the distant rustling of a maid sweeping the floor, all conveying an indescribable heaviness.
After a long while, she slowly spoke, her voice tinged with weariness: "Have the kitchen stew some bird's nest porridge, so that Lan'er can drink it while it's hot when she comes back."
"Yes, this old servant will go and give the order right away." Rong Mama replied, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind the old lady's ear. In the mirror, the old lady's eyes were already subtly misted with tears.
The salt warehouse in the west of the city is the largest salt storage site in Yangzhou, covering dozens of acres. Dozens of tall warehouses are neatly arranged, and the gray-white walls gleam with a cold, hard light in the misty rain.
The sea salt, freshly transported from the sea, still carries the salty, fishy smell of the sea breeze, mixed with the dampness of the rain, permeating the entire salt field. You can taste a hint of saltiness when you breathe it in.
The salt fields were already bustling with activity.
The laborers carried heavy sacks of salt, shuttling between the warehouses and the cargo ships. Salt grains fell from the sacks, accumulating a thin layer of white frost on the bluestone pavement. When soaked by rain, it turned into sticky salt mud.
The overseers held long whips and occasionally shouted a few words of reprimand. The whips made a crisp sound in the air, which made the already tense atmosphere even more oppressive.
"Young master, watch your step. Salt has just been unloaded here, and the ground is very slippery." The head manager, Shen Rong, quickly followed behind a young "young master," holding an oil-paper umbrella in his hand. The umbrella was tilted slightly, with most of it covering the "young master's" head.
Shen Rong is over fifty years old this year, and his hair is already a bit gray. He has been the manager of the Shen family for thirty years. He has been managing the salt business since the old boss was alive. Now, seeing that this young "young boss" is even more strict than the old boss, he feels both admiration and a little fear. He has been scolded by the "young boss" many times for the quality of the salt.
Shen Rulan, who was addressed as "Young Master," was standing in front of a pile of salt bags.
She wore a black brocade melon-shaped hat, with a piece of mutton-fat jade the size of a pigeon's egg embedded in the top, which shone with a warm luster in the misty rain.
He was wearing a dark blue Ning silk robe with a dark pattern, the collar and cuffs embroidered with fine cloud patterns in silver thread, the stitches so neat that no trace was visible.
He wore a royal blue satin jacket over his clothes; the fabric was thick, yet it didn't look bulky.
A bright yellow silk sash was tied around her waist, with a jade pendant hanging from it. The pendant was carved with the words "Peace" and was tied on by the old lady herself.
His black satin boots with pink soles were polished to a shine, and although the soles were covered in some salt and mud, they couldn't hide his upright and imposing demeanor.
Her extravagant attire made her look like a pampered young master from a wealthy family, but upon closer inspection, one would find that her face beneath the brim of her hat was as smooth as jade, without a trace of the beard a man should have.
Her features were exceptionally delicate, with slightly raised eyebrows that looked as if they were painted on. However, her eyes were sharp as knives, sweeping over the mountain of salt bags without missing a single detail, clearly showing even the size and color of the salt grains.
“The quantity of this batch of salt from Songjiang Prefecture is correct, but the quality is somewhat lacking.” Shen Rulan bent down, picked up a handful of salt with her right index finger and thumb, and gently rubbed it in her palm.
Tiny grains of salt slipped through her fingers and landed on the umbrella, making a soft "shush" sound.
She brought the sniff closer, her brows furrowing slightly. Her voice was deliberately low and clear, devoid of any girlish gentleness, but instead carrying an undeniable air of authority: "The humidity is too high; I can feel the dampness on my fingertips, and there are more grains of sand mixed in—look."
She raised her hand and handed the remaining salt grains in her palm to Shen Rong. "These few grains, which are yellowish-brown, are all sand. If they are transported to the capital and discovered by the Salt Transport Bureau, will our Shen family's reputation be ruined?"
Shen Rong quickly leaned over to look and indeed saw several yellowish-brown granules in his palm. Fine beads of sweat immediately appeared on his forehead, and he hurriedly bowed, saying, "It was my oversight! When the cargo boat arrived yesterday, I only counted the number and didn't carefully check the quality..."
“It wasn’t your negligence; it was the salt merchants from Songjiang Prefecture who tried to slip through the cracks.” Shen Rulan straightened up, her gaze sweeping over the distant cargo ships moored there, their bows bearing the banner of “Songjiang Hu Ji.” “They thought we couldn’t find out, given the distance of hundreds of miles by water? Shen Rong, take note. Deduct 10% from their payment and have Boss Hu come to Yangzhou in person to give us a reply. If they dare to pass off inferior goods as superior again, cancel all cooperation—they’re not the only salt merchants in Yangzhou; there are plenty of people who want to do business with the Shen family.”
"Yes, yes! I'll take care of it right away and make sure Boss Hu knows what's what!" Shen Rong quickly took out paper and pen from his sleeve, held the paper between the umbrella handle, and wrote it down quickly. The pen tip made a "shush" sound as it glided across the paper.
Shen Rulan stopped looking at him and turned to walk deeper into the warehouse.
The warehouse was piled high with salt bags, making the air even saltier. She walked very steadily, stepping into the gaps between the salt bags with each step, without getting a single drop of salt mud on her.
Reaching the end of the warehouse, she stopped and gazed at the misty rain outside the window—the canal boats were still coming and going, the creaking of oars mingling with the shouts of the saltworkers.
"Have you taken care of Liu Sanye of the Grand Canal Gang?" she suddenly asked, her tone calm but carrying an imposing aura that made Shen Rong, who was following behind her, dare not slack off in the slightest.
Mentioning the canal gang, Shen Rong looked somewhat troubled. He rubbed his hands together and said in a low voice, "Young Master, we added 30% silver as you instructed, and also sent two bolts of fine cloud brocade—the 'flowing cloud pattern' that was transported from Suzhou a few days ago. Master Liu has always liked this. Master Liu accepted the gift and didn't say anything, but a few of his branch leaders seem to be somewhat dissatisfied. Yesterday, they were making things difficult for our canal workers at the dock, saying... saying that the silver was too little, and that 'the Shen family is so rich, why would they care about such a small amount of money?'"
"Hmph," Shen Rulan snorted coldly, her eyes instantly turning cold, the sharpness in them seeming to pierce through the rain. "Quite the appetite. It seems that Third Master Liu can't control himself."
She paused, her fingers unconsciously stroking the jade pendant at her waist. "Go tell Master Liu to keep his men in check. The Shen family's money isn't so easy to take—haven't we given the Canal Gang enough benefits over the years? The Shen family has been cooperating with the Canal Gang since his father was alive, but now that he's taken over, he's forgotten the rules. This time, I'll let it slide because of our years of cooperation, but if the canal boats are 'accidentally' delayed again, don't blame me for finding another partner. There's more than one Canal Gang in Yangzhou; Chief Li of the 'Qingfeng Gang' sent someone to deliver an invitation a few days ago, wanting to discuss cooperation with us."
Shen Rong nodded hurriedly, his back already soaked with cold sweat. He knew that "Young Master's" words weren't a threat—last year, when the Grand Canal Gang missed the salt delivery deadline, "Young Master" had indeed suspended cooperation with them, only resuming it after Master Liu personally came to apologize. "Yes, yes! I'll go see Master Liu right away and tell him exactly what you said, making sure he keeps his men in check!"
Shen Rulan hummed in agreement and said nothing more, simply turning and walking out of the warehouse.
Shen Rong quickly followed, opened his oil-paper umbrella, and carefully protected her.
Raindrops fell on the umbrella, making a "tap-tap" sound. Shen Rulan's figure stood out in the rain, like an ancient pine tree in Songtao Garden, with an indomitable spirit.
Unlike the magnificent city in the east and the bustling salt fields in the west, Lotus Lane in the west is exceptionally quiet.
This narrow alley is built along the river, with low brick and tile houses on both sides. Some of the roof tiles are broken, revealing the thatch inside, which turns dark brown after being soaked by rain.
The cobblestone path in the alley was full of potholes, and the puddles from the rain had not yet dried up, reflecting the narrow sky above and the crooked willows on the bank.
Deep in the alley, in a slightly dilapidated courtyard, Su Moqing was standing in front of the clothesline, carefully gathering the dried herbs.
She was wearing a faded light blue cotton dress with two neat patches on the hem. The stitches were fine and showed that it had been carefully mended, but the old fabric was still hard to hide.
She wore no makeup, her skin was pale from years of lack of sunlight, and she looked somewhat frail. Her dark blue hair was simply tied into a bun with a plain silver hairpin. The edge of the hairpin was already a little black, but it still accentuated her long neck and elegant temperament—like a secluded orchid by the Slender West Lake, growing in an ordinary corner, yet possessing a noble air.
Su Moqing moved very gently, as if afraid of disturbing the tranquility of the courtyard.
The herbs in her hand were picked yesterday at the Slender West Lake. They included mint, honeysuckle, and plantain, all common yet effective medicinal materials.
She carefully sorted the herbs into the bamboo basket, arranging each leaf neatly. As she ran her fingertips over the leaves, she would gently blow away the dust—these herbs were her father's life-saving money, and she dared not be careless in the slightest.
"Cough...cough..." A suppressed cough suddenly came from inside the room, intermittent and clearly weak, making people anxious.
Su Moqing hurriedly put down the herbs in her hand and quickly walked into the house, forgetting to even put the lid on the bamboo basket.
The furnishings inside were extremely simple. A dilapidated wooden bed occupied most of the space, and the paint on the bed frame had peeled off, revealing the wood grain underneath.
Beside the bed was a desk with peeling paint, on which were several books. The pages were yellowed and the edges were worn, but they were wiped clean, and even the words on the spines were clearly visible.
Two chairs with missing legs were placed next to the table, barely able to stand upright with stones propped up on them.
There was nothing else besides that.
Su Wenyuan lay on the bed, his face as pale as paper, his lips cracked and peeling. After coughing, he was panting, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.
He was originally an instructor at the Yangzhou Prefectural School, a man of great learning and excellent calligraphy skills. However, because he refused to compromise his principles and refused to use connections to help the son of a salt merchant gain admission to the school, he was falsely accused of embezzling government stipends and dismissed from his post.
Not only did he lose his job, but he also got into trouble and fell seriously ill. His family's savings had long been exhausted, and now they can only barely make ends meet by having his daughter collect herbs and sell paintings.
"Qing'er... is the medicine... ready?" Su Wenyuan looked at his daughter as she walked in, his voice so weak it was almost inaudible. He wanted to raise his hand to touch her head, but he didn't even have the strength to do so, and could only watch her helplessly.
Su Moqing walked to the bedside, reached out to wipe the sweat from her father's forehead, and felt the icy coldness of his skin as her fingertips touched it.
She said softly, "Father, it'll be alright soon. I'll go and brew the medicine now, please bear with it a little longer." Her voice was gentle, but it trembled slightly—when she went to the pharmacy to get the medicine yesterday, the shopkeeper had already said that if she couldn't pay next time, she wouldn't be able to get medicine on credit anymore.
After coming out of the house, Su Moqing went straight to the small clay stove in the corner of the courtyard.
The clay stove was made of yellow clay and was already cracked. The flames inside the stove flickered, casting light and shadow on her face.
She poured the herbs from the bamboo basket into the medicine pot, and added some well water to the pot—it was fetched from the well at the entrance of the alley yesterday. She was not strong, and she had to rest several times to fetch a bucket of water.
After pouring out the water, she placed the medicine pot on the clay stove and gently fanned the fire with an old palm-leaf fan. The flames crackled and popped, and the aroma of the medicine gradually filled the air, mixed with the dampness of the rain, creating a rather elegant atmosphere.
Looking at the leaping flames, a trace of sorrow crossed Su Moqing's beautiful face.
She raised her hand and touched her waist—there was a small cloth bag sewn there, containing only a few dozen copper coins, left over from the last sale of her paintings.
This amount of money isn't even enough to buy a good dose of medicine.
Her gaze fell on the newly finished painting of orchids under the window. The paper was the cheapest kind of straw paper, and the edges were already a bit rough. The ink was almost used up. When painting orchids, she could only use ink sparingly. Even so, she still put her heart and soul into depicting the spirit of the orchids.
She sighed. She had to go to "Moxiangzhai" today. She hoped that Manager Chen would give her a good price out of consideration for their past relationship.
By the time the medicine was ready, the rain had lessened somewhat, falling softly like cow hair on the bluestone slabs.
Su Moqing wrapped the medicine pot in a coarse cloth, carefully poured the medicine into a bowl, blew on it until the temperature was suitable, and then brought it into the house to feed her father the medicine spoonful by spoonful.
Su Wenyuan drank the medicine smoothly, without even frowning at its bitterness. But after finishing it, he looked at his daughter's pale face and couldn't help but whisper, "Qing'er, I'm so sorry for you... It's all my fault for being useless and making you suffer like this..."
"Father, please don't say that." Su Moqing interrupted him, gently wiping away the medicine stains from the corner of his mouth. "Once you recover, our lives will get better. Didn't you say you would take me to see the peach blossoms at Slender West Lake when spring comes?" Her voice was filled with laughter, but her eyes were quietly veiled with tears.
After settling her father in, Su Moqing carefully rolled up the "Ink Orchid Painting," tied it with a thin hemp rope, and changed into a slightly more presentable cloth dress—it was left by her mother before her death. Although it was a bit old, it was washed clean.
She walked to the bedside, saw that her father was already fast asleep, then gently closed the door and quickly walked out of the courtyard.
The bluestone path in Lotus Lane was still slippery, and Su Moqing walked very carefully. Her skirt occasionally touched the puddles, but she didn't care.
She walked out of the alley and passed the general store at the alley entrance. The shopkeeper was dozing off on the counter, with the abacus still open on it.
Further ahead, there was a tailor shop with the curtain half-drawn, from which came the rustling sound of needles and thread passing through the fabric.
As you walk towards the alley entrance, the sounds of the market gradually emerge—the shouts of vendors in the distance, and the clatter of horse-drawn carriages passing over the stone-paved road.
"Moxiangzhai" is a calligraphy and painting shop with a long history located on Zhongda Street in Yangzhou.
The shop's storefront wasn't large, and the three large characters "Moxiangzhai" in clerical script were carved on the vermilion door panel. The characters were vigorous and powerful, and were inscribed by a famous calligrapher from the previous dynasty.
The shop was simply furnished, with several square tables neatly arranged, covered with blue tablecloths, and various calligraphy and paintings on them; the walls were covered with paintings and calligraphy, including landscapes, flowers and birds, and figures, mostly works by local Yangzhou painters.
At this moment, the shopkeeper, Chen Shouye, was wearing a pair of crystal glasses, examining a landscape painting in the daylight. He was nearly sixty years old, with gray hair, a goatee, and thick calluses on his fingertips from years of holding a brush.
Chen Shouye was a man who knew painting. He had studied painting for a few years when he was young, but his talent was limited. In the end, he became the shopkeeper and made a living by running this calligraphy and painting shop.
With a rustling sound, Su Moqing walked in carrying a scroll.
She walked very lightly, as if afraid of disturbing the tranquility of the shop.
"Manager Chen," she greeted softly, her voice clear and melodious, like a mountain stream.
Chen Shouye put down the painting in his hand, looked up at Su Moqing, and a subtle, complex emotion flashed in his eyes.
He and Su Wenyuan were old acquaintances, and he knew about the Su family's plight. Although he felt sympathy, he was also helpless. Nowadays, the calligraphy and painting market in Yangzhou was sluggish, and fewer and fewer people were buying paintings. His shop was barely making ends meet.
"Oh, Miss Su has arrived." His attitude wasn't particularly warm; he gestured to the chair next to him, "Please sit down."
Su Moqing didn't sit down, but simply handed over the scroll in her hand, saying softly, "Manager Chen, this is my newly finished 'Ink Orchid Painting,' please take a look..."
Chen Shouye took the scroll and slowly unfurled it.
The painting depicts several ink orchids growing beside a blue stone. Their branches and leaves are sparse, some in bud and others already in full bloom. The brushstrokes are simple yet full of charm, and the ink tones are well-balanced, exuding a refined and noble air, just like Su Moqing's temperament.
He stared at the painting for a long time, his fingers gently brushing across the paper, then he pushed up his crystal glasses before slowly speaking: "Miss Su, the painting is excellent, and the artistic conception is truly wonderful—the spirit of this orchid is something that most painters could not capture."
Upon hearing this, Su Moqing felt a slight sense of relief, and a hint of anticipation flashed in her eyes.
But Chen Shouye changed the subject, his tone tinged with helplessness: "It's just that orchids are too austere. These days, those who buy paintings are either salt merchants or officials; they prefer peonies and galloping horses, for something auspicious and lively. Your ink orchids, though beautiful, are hard to sell." He paused, looking at Su Moqing's expectant eyes, and finally softened. "How about this, in these circumstances, at most... two taels of silver. If you're willing, I'll accept it; if not, you can look elsewhere."
Two taels of silver.
Su Moqing's heart sank instantly.
She had originally thought the painting would fetch at least five taels of silver, enough to buy some good medicine and leave some money for her father's nutritional supplements. But now, she only had two taels, barely enough for a few days' meals, and her father's illness…
She bit her lower lip, her fingertips turning slightly white, but she still suppressed her disappointment and said softly, "Alright, Manager Chen, we'll do as you say..."
Just as she was about to say something more, a commotion suddenly broke the tranquility of the shop, a mixture of the laughter of spoiled young men and the pleas of an old man.
Chen Shouye frowned, walked to the door, and looked outside.
Su Moqing subconsciously followed, and saw several richly dressed playboys surrounding an old man selling palm-leaf fans. The leader was Wang Yuanbao, the second son of the Wang family, salt merchants from Yangzhou.
Wang Yuanbao, dressed in a pink Suzhou embroidered robe with a gold and jade belt around his waist, looked slightly drunk. He was kicking the old man's palm-leaf fan on the ground, cursing, "You old bastard! Can't you watch where you're going? You've dirtied my Suzhou embroidered robe. Can you afford to pay for it? This robe was shipped all the way from Suzhou and cost fifty taels of silver!"
The old man, dressed in a tattered gray cloth jacket, with gray hair and a face full of wrinkles, clutched a tattered cloth bag tightly in his hand. He trembled with fear, repeatedly bowing and pleading, "Young master, spare my life! Young master, spare my life! I didn't mean to, I slipped and lost my footing... I'll pay you back, I'll pay you back..."
As he spoke, he pulled a few crumpled copper coins from his tattered bag and handed them to Wang Yuanbao. "This is all the old man has. Please, have mercy and let this old man go..."
"Is this all the measly money you have?" Wang Yuanbao slapped the old man's hand away, and the copper coins fell to the ground, rolling all over the place.
He sneered, stomping on the palm-leaf fan, which instantly warped. "Using this broken fan as payment? You think it's beneath you? If you don't give me an explanation today, you're not leaving!"
Passersby gathered around, pointing and whispering, but no one dared to step forward to dissuade them—the Wang family were powerful salt merchants in Yangzhou, and no one was willing to offend them for the sake of a strange old man.
Su Moqing stood inside the door, subconsciously clenching her sleeves so tightly that her nails almost dug into her flesh.
She felt a pang of pity and wanted to step forward to dissuade them, but then she remembered her own predicament—she couldn't even afford her father's medical expenses, so how could she possibly stand up to the Wang family? She could only bite her lip and watch the scene before her, her eyes filled with anxiety and helplessness.
Just then, a clear and gentle voice rang out from behind, like a spring breeze, dispelling the hostility in the air: "Gentlemen, what has angered you?"
Everyone turned around and saw a young "gentleman" dressed in fine clothes and with an extraordinary demeanor walking slowly towards them with a capable old servant.
The "young master" wore a black brocade melon-shaped hat, the white jade on the top of which gleamed warmly in the sunlight. He wore a dark blue silk robe with subtle patterns, over which was a royal blue satin jacket. A bright yellow silk sash was tied around his waist, from which hung a jade pendant. His black satin boots with pink soles were polished to a shine, and each step he took was steady and composed. Half of his long, glossy black braid hung down his back, swaying gently with his steps. His face was handsome, with a faint smile at the corner of his mouth. His gaze swept over the group of纨绔 (sons of wealthy and powerful families), and although it was not harsh, it exuded an undeniable air of authority that instantly quieted the surrounding noise.
The group of spoiled brats clearly recognized who it was. Wang Yuanbao, the leader, immediately softened his arrogance, sheepishly stopping himself and bowing, saying, "So it's Young Master Shen. It's nothing serious, just that this old man was blind and bumped into me, even soiling my robe..."
Shen Rulan, who is called "Young Master Shen", is the same Shen Rulan who has just returned from the salt warehouse.
She was originally on her way to meet Lord Zhao at the Salt Transport Office when she heard the commotion on Zhongda Street and decided to come and see what was going on.
Her gaze fell on the terrified old man, then glanced at the broken palm-leaf fan and scattered copper coins on the ground. A barely perceptible coldness flashed in her eyes, but she still said in a calm tone, "It was nothing. This old man is old and has difficulty walking, so he probably didn't mean to offend you."
She paused, then turned her gaze to Wang Yuanbao. "If Brother Wang's clothes are damaged, put it on my tab, and you can go to 'Yunjin Workshop' to have new ones made—'Yunjin Workshop' has just received a batch of Shu brocade with excellent patterns; Brother Wang will surely like it. Why make things difficult for an old man and lose face?"
Her words were very tactful, giving Wang Yuanbao face while also pointing out that "making things difficult for an elderly person is beneath one's dignity," leaving Wang Yuanbao with no reason to refute her.
Wang Yuanbao's face flushed red and then turned pale. He knew how powerful Shen Rulan was—the Shen family was not only a major salt merchant in Yangzhou, but also had connections with officials in the capital, making them even more influential than the Wang family.
Not daring to offend Shen Rulan, he could only take the opportunity to back down, forcing a dry laugh: "Young Master Shen is right, I acted impulsively. Since Young Master Shen has spoken, let's let it go." He then waved his hand at the old man, "Get out of here!"
The old man quickly kowtowed to express his gratitude and got up to pick up the copper coins on the ground.
Shen Rulan gestured to her old servant Shen Fu behind her to take some loose silver and hand it to the old man. Shen Fu was an old man in the Shen family and was very reliable. He took out a heavy money bag from his sleeve, poured out a few taels of silver, handed it to the old man, and said softly, "Uncle, you've been frightened. Take this silver to calm your nerves and buy some new palm-leaf fans."
The old man looked at the silver in his hand, both surprised and delighted. He quickly kowtowed to Shen Rulan, saying, "Thank you, young master! You are truly a living bodhisattva!" He gratefully accepted the silver, picked up the tattered cloth bundle from the ground, and hurried away.
The onlookers dispersed, muttering things like, "Young Master Shen is so kind-hearted," and "Young Master Wang went too far."
Seeing this, Wang Yuanbao and the others didn't dare to linger. They flattered Shen Rulan a few more times and then left dejectedly.
Shen Rulan then seemingly casually turned her gaze to Su Moqing, who had been standing quietly at the entrance of "Moxiangzhai".
As soon as she stepped out of the sedan chair, she noticed this woman—not because of her outstanding appearance, but because of her quiet and aloof demeanor, so out of place in the bustling city, like a light ink painting quietly blooming in the misty rain, inexplicably attracting her attention.
The woman wore a faded light blue cotton dress, held a scroll in her hand, and her dark blue hair was tied up with a plain silver hairpin. Her face, without any makeup, was pure and beautiful, with a hint of sadness in her eyes, yet she still couldn't hide her elegant and noble air. She was just like the orchid she had seen by the salt warehouse earlier, growing alone in the barren land, with her own spirit.
Their eyes met.
Su Moqing was slightly taken aback.
This "Young Master Shen" had clear and sharp eyes, yet unlike the frivolous or scrutinizing gaze of ordinary wealthy young men, he possessed an indescribable clarity, as if he could see right through people's thoughts. She had never dealt with such a powerful young man before, and for a moment she was at a loss. She could only subconsciously lower her eyes, curtsy, and speak in a clear, cold voice like the clinking of jade: "Thank you, young master, for helping that old man out of that predicament."
Shen Rulan glanced at Su Moqing's slightly reddened earlobes, a faint smile flickering in her eyes. She didn't reply immediately, but instead focused her gaze on the scroll in Su Moqing's hand. The scroll was tied with a thin hemp rope, and a corner of rough paper was visible, yet faint ink marks were still discernible. She casually asked, "Are you here to sell your paintings, young lady?"
Su Moqing was slightly surprised, not expecting this "Young Master Shen" to notice the scroll in her hand. She nodded gently, her voice still soft: "Yes."
"It seems you are a master painter." Shen Rulan smiled slightly, the curve of her lips softening. "I once heard Manager Chen say that your paintings have excellent artistic conception. I wonder if I would have the honor of seeing them?"
Su Moqing hesitated for a moment. She knew that this "Young Master Shen" was of noble status and must be accustomed to seeing famous paintings and calligraphy. Her "Ink Orchid" painting on rough paper might be insignificant in his eyes. However, he had just saved the old man and was so gentle and polite, she really couldn't bear to refuse. She untied the thin hemp rope, handed over the scroll, and said softly, "This is a humble work; I hope you will forgive my poor attempt to impress you, young master."
Shen Rulan took the scroll with gentle movements, as if she were holding a priceless treasure. She carefully unfurled it, afraid of damaging the fragile paper.
As the scroll slowly unfurled, several ink orchids gradually came into view—the orchids beside the bluestone, their branches and leaves sparse and elegant, their ink tones perfectly balanced, some still in bud, tinged with shyness; others already in full bloom, exuding a touch of pride. With just a few strokes, the painting vividly captured the orchids' refined and noble spirit, mirroring the temperament of the woman before him.
"A fine painting," Shen Rulan praised sincerely, her gaze falling on the orchids in the painting, her eyes full of appreciation. "The brushwork is clear and the style is extraordinary, especially the spirit of these orchids, which is something that ordinary painters would find extremely difficult to capture. You have excellent skills, young lady." She carefully rolled up the painting, tied it again with a thin hemp rope, and handed it back to Su Moqing, asking casually, "May I ask your name, young lady?"
Su Moqing took the scroll, her fingertips touching Shen Rulan's fingertips. She felt a slightly cool touch and quickly withdrew her hand, her cheeks flushing slightly. She whispered, "My surname is Su." She didn't say her real name—the Su family had fallen into ruin, and she didn't want others to know that she was the "daughter of a disgraced official," lest she attract unnecessary trouble.
Shen Rulan didn't press the matter. She knew everyone had their own difficulties, and asking too many questions would be impolite. She stepped aside to make way, her tone still gentle: "Miss Su. It's getting late. If you have other matters to attend to, please go ahead."
Su Moqing bowed slightly again, said nothing more, turned and strode quickly into "Moxiangzhai". Her steps were very light, and the hem of her light blue skirt swayed gently behind the curtain like a willow leaf before disappearing from sight.
Shen Rulan stood there, watching the pale blue figure disappear into the doorway, her gaze lingering for a moment on the spot where she had just stood.
A faint scent of ink and herbs, distinct from the fragrance of cosmetics, lingered in the air, mixed with the dampness of the rain, hovering around the nose for a long time.
“Young Master?” Shen Fu reminded him softly. He looked at his young master’s expression and a hint of doubt flashed in his eyes. His young master was always calm and rarely paid such attention to strangers, especially women. But today he was acting very differently towards this Miss Su. “The invitation from Lord Zhao’s residence of the Salt Transport Office invites you to tea at 1-3 pm. It’s almost time now. If you don’t go soon, it will be impolite.”
Shen Rulan snapped out of her reverie, concealing the slightest ripple in her eyes, and regained her usual composure. She withdrew her gaze from the curtain of "Moxiangzhai" and said softly, "Understood. Prepare the sedan chair."
Shen Fu responded and turned to arrange the carriage.
Shen Rulan took one last look at the curtain of "Moxiangzhai" before turning and leaving.
The streets were still bustling, with the sounds of oars from the canal boats, the shouts of vendors, and the music of string and wind instruments all blending together. The brief encounter just now was like a pebble thrown into a lake; the ripples dispersed, as if nothing had happened.
However, when the spring breeze brushed against Shen Rulan's cheeks again, a very faint mark was quietly left in her heart—that pale blue figure, that elegant "Ink Orchid Painting," and that clear and melodious "Thank you, young master."
Inside the "Ink Fragrance Studio," Su Moqing accepted the two taels of silver handed to her by Manager Chen, but her earlier disappointment was gone.
She carefully put the silver away and looked out the window—the figure in sapphire blue was slowly walking towards the carriage parked at the street corner. Sunlight shone through the clouds and fell on him, gilding him with a faint golden light, giving him an indescribable gentleness.
A mark was quietly left in her heart, like an unknown seed being quietly planted in the soil after a spring rain.
The misty rain in Yangzhou still lingers.
This seemingly accidental encounter, like a thread of fate, quietly connected two people who had never crossed paths before.
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