Chapter Twenty-Four: Undercurrents Appear Again
Winter of the twenty-third year of the Qianlong reign.
At the beginning of the twelfth lunar month, the first snow of the winter fell in Yangzhou.
At first, the fine snowflakes were mixed with raindrops, making a rustling sound as they tapped on the blue tiles. Gradually, they turned into goose feather-like snowflakes, which fluttered down and covered the entire city.
The ancient city of Yangzhou was partially obscured by the snow, and the Grand Canal, like a dark jade ribbon, flowed through the city. The last cargo boat on the canal was slowly leaving the dock, and the white breath exhaled by the boatmen instantly dissipated in the cold wind.
Crystalline icicles hung from the eaves of the lakeside villa, gleaming with a cool light in the twilight.
This is a typical Jiangnan garden building, with white walls and black tiles, and pavilions and towers arranged in a well-organized manner.
The pond in the courtyard was not yet completely frozen, and a few koi fish swam among the floating ice, occasionally creating a soft splash.
The winding corridors connect the various halls, and the lanterns hanging under the corridors are lit one by one as the sky darkens, casting a warm glow on the snow.
Su Moqing sat on a rosewood chair under the eaves, pouring the dried ginkgo fruits one by one into a blue and white porcelain basin.
The golden fruits gleamed with a warm luster under the snowlight, complementing the lotus scroll pattern painted on the rim of the basin.
Today she wore a moon-white satin jacket with a circle of silver fox fur around the collar, which made her face look even more beautiful.
The red plum blossoms outside the corridor have just begun to bloom, and they are particularly beautiful against the backdrop of white snow. Their subtle fragrance wafts through the air, mingling with the scent of sandalwood incense inside the house.
A series of steady footsteps came from the end of the corridor. Shen Rulan, wrapped in a black mink cloak, walked through the snow, the fur on her collar stained white by the snow.
She held a gilded lacquer box in her hands, the passionflower pattern on the surface shimmering with golden light under the snow.
Her boots crunched on the snow, and the servant behind her hurriedly brushed the snow off her cloak.
"Why are you still sitting outside in this cold weather?" Shen Rulan's tone was reproachful, but her eyes were full of concern. "Your hands are so cold, be careful not to catch a cold." She reached out and held Su Moqing's fingers, gently breathing warm air on them.
Su Moqing looked up and smiled gently, her eyes and brows warm: "It's stuffy inside, so why not enjoy the snow here? These ginkgo fruits are drying perfectly; I'll make you a sweet ginkgo soup with rock sugar tomorrow." As she spoke, she offered a plump ginkgo fruit to Chen Rulan's lips.
Shen Rulan ate from her hand, a smile spreading across her lips: "It's very sweet." She placed the lacquer box on the stone table beside her, "I brought you something nice."
The lacquer box was opened, revealing neatly stacked Western painting brushes inside. The brush handles were made of fine ivory, and the nibs were made of fine sable hair, much finer than the Huzhou brushes she usually used.
“I got this from an English merchant in the Thirteen Factories of Guangzhou. It’s said that Western painters are most skilled at using this kind of brush to outline figures.” Shen Rulan took out a brush and twirled it between her fingers. “I was thinking that since you’ve been studying figure painting techniques lately, it might come in handy.”
Su Moqing took the pen, her fingertips touching the cool texture of the ivory. The penholder was intricately carved with vine patterns, indicating its considerable cost.
"Such an exquisite item must have taken a lot of effort," she said softly, her gaze falling on Shen Rulan's slightly furrowed brows. "Did something bother you? I noticed you came back earlier than usual today."
Just as Shen Rulan was about to speak, she heard a series of hurried footsteps coming from outside the courtyard.
The old steward, Shen Fu, rushed over, holding an oil-paper umbrella that was tilted to one side, his shoulders covered in snow. He looked flustered, his breath steaming in the white mist: "Young Master! People from the Imperial Household Department in the capital have come again, this time with a steward surnamed He. They say they want to see you in person! They say... they say they are acting on an urgent order from Steward Liu, and they are waiting in the front hall right now."
Shen Rulan's brows furrowed suddenly. The cooperation between the Imperial Household Department and the government had just been finalized, and now they were suddenly sending their chief official here; this was definitely not a good thing.
She gently placed the paintbrush into Su Moqing's hand, lightly pressed her fingertips against Su's reddened knuckles, and whispered, "Go back to your studio first. Don't come out unless I call you. Tell the maid to stoke the charcoal fire. I'll be back soon."
The dark cloak swept across the snow, leaving a trail of deep footprints.
Su Moqing watched her departing figure, the ivory pen in her hand still seeming to retain the warmth of Shen Rulan. A strange unease rose in her heart, and even the faint fragrance of the red plum blossoms outside the corridor seemed particularly cold.
Several maids quietly stepped forward, draped a cloak over her shoulders, and handed her a new hand warmer.
Inside the front hall, the charcoal fire was burning brightly.
Steward He, dressed in a dark blue official robe with a mandarin duck embroidered on the chest, was sitting upright in a grand chair, sipping tea. He was around forty years old, with a fair complexion and no beard, and his triangular eyes occasionally flashed with a sharp light. Seeing Shen Rulan enter, he slowly put down his teacup, his gaze sharply sweeping over her entire body.
“Young Master Shen,” he said in a high-pitched, official tone, “I have come here on the orders of Chief Steward Liu of the Imperial Household Department to inquire about the funding for the renovation of the Summer Palace. Last time, Young Master Shen used ‘losses in the Southeast Asian trade’ as an excuse, but according to the account books found by the Imperial Household Department, the Shen family made a profit of 300,000 taels of silver in the Western goods trade in Guangzhou last month. This claim of ‘losses’ is probably untrue, isn’t it?”
Shen Rulan's heart sank. The Imperial Household Department had secretly investigated the Shen family's accounts, something she hadn't anticipated.
She remained calm, personally refilling Steward He's hot tea, and said slowly, "Steward He, you may not know this. Although the trade in Southeast Asia is profitable, most of it needs to be set aside for procurement next year. In addition, the Yangzhou saltworks also require funds for winter repairs, and we really cannot afford the repair costs."
Steward He sneered, pulling a blue-covered ledger from his sleeve and slamming it onto the rosewood table. The pages unfurled, revealing densely packed writing. "Young Master Shen, there's no need for excuses! This ledger clearly states that the Shen family owns five estates and three cargo ships in Jiangnan that are not registered in the public accounts. If Young Master Shen is unwilling to contribute funds, then these 'private properties' will likely need to be audited by the Ministry of Revenue."
These words carried a blatant threat. Shen Rulan's fingertips clenched white in her sleeves, but she still maintained a polite smile: "You flatter me, sir. However, 500,000 taels is no small sum. Please allow me a few days to raise it."
Only then did Steward He show a satisfied expression. He took another sip of tea and said slowly, "Young Master Shen is a wise man. I will come back in three days to hear your message." As he stood up, he suddenly added, "I heard that Young Master Shen has been in close contact with the Governor of Jiangning recently? It's best not to get too involved in matters of the court."
After seeing off Steward He, Shen Rulan stood on the corridor for a long time without moving.
The snow fell heavier and heavier, and the artificial rocks in the courtyard were covered with a layer of pure white.
A few sparrows hopped on the bare branches of the sycamore tree, shaking down a flurry of snowflakes.
She recalled her mother's dying words: "Although the Shen family is wealthy, they are ultimately a merchant family. In this world where imperial power reigns supreme, a slight misstep could lead to utter ruin." The steward's last words were clearly a warning against seeking the governor's help.
When she returned to the lakeside villa, Su Moqing was still standing under the eaves waiting for her, clutching the Western painting brush tightly in his hand. Seeing her solemn expression, Su Moqing quickly stepped forward and placed the hand warmer he had prepared in her hands.
"What happened?" Su Moqing asked softly, her eyes filled with worry.
Shen Rulan laid out the coercion from the Imperial Household Department, her voice tinged with rare weariness: "They want me to come up with 500,000 taels to repair the Summer Palace, or they will confiscate the Shen family's private property."
Su Moqing was startled. Five hundred thousand taels was an unthinkable sum for ordinary families, and even for a wealthy family like the Shen family in Jiangnan, it would require using most of their working capital. She thought of the painting fees she had saved up over the years; although not much, it represented her heartfelt sentiment.
"How about... I take out all the fees I've saved from painting over the years?" She grasped Shen Rulan's hand, feeling his fingers were frighteningly cold. "Although it's not much, it's still a few thousand taels, which should be enough to tide me over."
Shen Rulan took her hand in return, her eyes full of tenderness: "Silly girl, you should save your money to buy paints and paint the pictures you like. These court affairs shouldn't sully your hands."
She looked at the thick snow in the courtyard, her voice gradually becoming firm, "Tomorrow I will visit the Governor of Jiangning. The Governor and my father have a long-standing friendship, and perhaps he can mediate between us."
.
As dusk settled, the snow's reflection made the window paper gleam.
The maid quietly came in to add charcoal to the fire and served freshly brewed Biluochun tea.
Amidst the fragrant tea, Su Moqing discreetly observed Shen Rulan's furrowed brows, a sense of unease rising within him. With factional strife raging in the court, this sudden attack by the Imperial Household Department likely had more to do with the situation.
“Rulan,” Su Moqing said softly, “I heard that this Chief He is very close to Heshen. The Emperor hates the formation of cliques and factions the most. Could their move be an attempt to get the Shen family to take sides?”
Shen Rulan looked up abruptly, a hint of surprise flashing in her eyes. She had never imagined that Su Moqing, who spent his days immersed in the fragrance of ink and paper, would have such keen insight into the political situation at court.
"How do you know all this?" Shen Rulan asked softly.
Su Moqing lowered her eyes, her long eyelashes casting faint shadows in the snowy light: "I've painted portraits of several officials before. When they talked, they acted as if I didn't exist." She paused, her voice even softer, "Sometimes, matters in officialdom are clearer than ink marks on a painting. Although I don't understand politics, I can tell that this Chief He has ill intentions."
Shen Rulan gazed at the swirling snow outside the window for a long time, suddenly realizing that this winter was colder than she had imagined. She recalled the many unfamiliar faces that had appeared in Yangzhou recently, and the yamen runners from the Salt Transport Commissioner's office frequently loitering near the Shen family's shop. It turned out that all of this had been foreshadowed, but she had been too busy with her business to notice.
"I will go to see the governor tomorrow. You should stay at home and make good use of yourselves." Shen Rulan pondered for a moment, "Have Shen Fu send a few more guards to watch over the villa. I'm afraid things are not going to be peaceful in Yangzhou these days."
Su Moqing nodded in agreement, but her heart ached slightly. Looking at Shen Rulan's tired profile, she suddenly felt a strong urge to do something for her.
In the dead of night, she quietly took out a sandalwood box hidden at the bottom of a trunk. Inside, neatly arranged, were all the silver notes she had received for her paintings over the years. Although it was just a drop in the ocean compared to 500,000 taels of silver, it represented all her heartfelt sentiments.
Snow falls silently outside the window, while red plum blossoms cast sparse, oblique shadows under the moonlight.
Su Moqing picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, and carefully outlined the design on the Xuan paper.
As the pen moves across the paper, a tree of red plum blossoms braving the snow gradually takes shape, with gnarled branches and delicate petals.
She inscribed a line of small characters on the corner of the painting: "Snow weighs down the branches, but they do not touch the mud. When the red sun rises one day, they will still be as high as the sky."
Hopefully this snowstorm will pass soon, and the sun will eventually rise.
She stared at the drawing paper, lost in thought, silently praying.
Meanwhile, in the study, Shen Rulan was sitting alone facing the lamp.
The ledger lay open on the desk, the ink gleaming coldly under the lamp.
She picked up her brush, dipped it in ink, and wrote a secret letter on the rice paper. The flickering candlelight cast an indistinct glow on her face.
The wind howled outside the window, as if foreshadowing an impending storm.
That night, the lights in Tingxuexuan remained on for a long time.
Shen Rulan gazed at the falling snow outside the window, pondering how to handle her audience with the governor the next day. She knew that this sudden turmoil was probably just the beginning.
The power struggles in the imperial court eventually reached Yangzhou, and the seemingly stable business empire of the Shen family was teetering on the brink of collapse amidst the snowstorm.
Meanwhile, in an inn on the other side of Yangzhou, Steward He was carefully examining a jade pendant by candlelight. The pendant was carved with exquisite dragon patterns, its surface gleaming warmly in the candlelight. A cold smile played on his lips as he muttered to himself, "The Shen family… let's see how long you can hold out."
Outside the window, the snow fell heavier and heavier, covering the entire city of Yangzhou and burying all the conspiracies and schemes under the pure white snow.
As the night deepened, the sound of the night watchman's clapper rang out with exceptional clarity in the silent, snowy night.
Su Moqing quietly came to the outside of the study and saw Shen Rulan still working at her desk through the crack in the door. She gently pushed the door open and placed a bowl of hot almond tea on the desk.
"Take a break," she said softly. "I've already asked the kitchen to prepare some snacks, including your favorite osmanthus cake."
Shen Rulan looked up, her eyes bloodshot, but she still managed a smile: "It's so late, why aren't you asleep yet?"
"I'll stay with you." Su Moqing sat down beside her, picked up the ink stick and gently ground the ink. "No matter what happens, I will be by your side."
The flickering candlelight cast their shadows on the wall, intertwining them.
The snow was still falling outside the window, but the warmth inside was enough to ward off all the cold of this winter.
At that moment, they both knew that the road ahead might be difficult.
Night deepened, and the snow gradually subsided, but the undercurrents in Yangzhou were only just beginning.
Beneath the seemingly peaceful snowy night, various forces were secretly plotting. In the study of the Jiangning governor's residence, the lights were on; in the duty room of the salt transport commissioner's office, several officials were having a secret meeting; even the seemingly ordinary grain transport boats on the canal harbored unknown secrets.
All of this unfolded quietly around the mansion of the Shen family, the wealthiest merchant family in Jiangnan.
The snowflakes continued to fall silently, covering all traces, but they could not conceal the storm that was brewing.
Inside Tingxue Pavilion, Shen Rulan finally put down her pen and carefully sealed the secret letter she had written. "Tomorrow morning, you will personally deliver it to the governor's office," she instructed the steward Shen Fu, who was waiting outside the door, her voice carrying an unquestionable determination.
Su Moqing looked at her quietly and suddenly felt that this snowy night was exceptionally long.
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