Realizing that Zhang Zhaoge posed no threat, Wang Hecheng stopped considering her and turned to Cui Yun: “Seventh Miss Cui, I acquired a piece of plum blossom jade in Ruzhou City. Let me have someone carve a pair of jade bracelets for you! How can you go without any gold, silver, or jade accessories? Especially your snowy wrists they would look perfect adorned with plum blossom jade bracelets.”
This remark caused Zhang Zhaoge to involuntarily cast her gaze toward Cui Yun’s pale, slender wrists. Cui Yun’s hand, holding the reins, was delicate and white, but upon closer inspection, one could spot a faint scar on the back of her hand.
Cui Yun covered her hand with her sleeve and replied with practiced patience: “Plum blossom jade is beautiful, but it does not suit me.”
Wang Hecheng countered, “How can it not suit you? People nourish jade, and jade nourishes people; you need to let jade nourish you.”
Zhang Zhaoge looked away what a classic “overbearing CEO” cliché. Faced with such a self-righteous person, Cui Yun knew that arguing was futile, so she chose to treat him as if he didn’t exist. She glanced at Zhang Zhaoge, who was off to the side “eating melons” (watching the drama), and thought to herself: How the tables have turned. She had just finished watching Zhang Zhaoge’s drama, and now it was Zhang Zhaoge’s turn to watch hers.
“I have matters to attend to at the villa, so I will take my leave. Please, both of you, feel free to do as you wish.”
Wang Hecheng, however, was relentless: “I traveled all the way from Ruzhou City to bring you these bracelets; wouldn’t it be unreasonable not to invite me inside for a warm cup of tea?”
“I already told you, I do not need you to gift me jade bracelets, Young Master Wang.”
“Whether you need them is your business; whether I gift them is a matter of my sincerity.”
Cui Yun’s suppressed temper flared, and she retorted sharply: “The villa is small and busy; I am afraid I have no time to entertain guests.”
With that, she bowed politely to Zhang Zhaoge, flicked the reins, and rode away. Once she was gone, Zhang Zhaoge prepared to leave as well, but Wang Hecheng called out: “I am currently in discussions for marriage with Seventh Miss Cui. Given your background, it is impossible for you to catch the eye of the Nanyang Magistrate; do not indulge in wishful thinking.”
Zhang Zhaoge tilted her head in thought, then suddenly realized. So this second-generation rich kid takes me for a love rival.
Facing this baseless accusation, Zhang Zhaoge countered: “That’s a funny way to put it. The person who likes you is the Nanyang Magistrate; why don’t you marry him instead?”
“You—”
“What about me? Out of politeness, I didn’t want to interfere in your affairs with Seventh Miss Cui. But since you insist on making your presence felt before me, I have to give you a piece of my mind. Is what you are doing even human? Is it because she can’t afford a bracelet that she isn’t wearing one? Are you looking down on her?”
Wang Hecheng’s eyes widened: “How am I looking down on her? I just think it suits her.”
“That’s what you think. When giving a gift, one should cater to the recipient’s preferences—did you even ask if she likes it before deciding it suits her? I think you’d be better suited for a razor to shave that beard off. Mencius said, ‘The trouble with people is that they are fond of being teachers to others.’ This is a warning: don’t be so self-righteous, and don’t impose your own ideas onto others.”
Wang Hecheng was left speechless by a commoner he had looked down upon, his face burning with shame and mounting anger. Yet, upon reflection, he felt her words held some truth. “Then how am I supposed to know what she likes?”
Zhang Zhaoge was stunned by his sudden shift in attitude: “…Why would I tell you?”
Wang Hecheng seemed to have had a sudden breakthrough, gave her a smug look, and spurred his horse away.
Zhang Zhaoge: Is he sick in the head?
The following day, news spread like wildfire that two gentlemen had been competing for the favor of Seventh Miss Cui in broad daylight.
Cui Yun: “…” How utterly ridiculous.
As Zhaoyan was busy imitating the villagers’ gossip, Qingxi entered: “Young Mistress, there is a letter from Bianzhou.”
The gloom in Cui Yun’s heart finally dissipated. She opened the letter, her brows unfurrowing, and a smile appeared on her face: “Wonderful! My sister is coming to attend the Eight Precepts Festival, and she says she will stay and spend the New Year with me in Zhaoping Township.”
For half a month, the search for the Huaixi spies across the counties of Ruzhou yielded no results. Gradually, people began to question if the junior officer had been mistaken, while others speculated that the spies had long since fled. Faced with no results, the troops grew lethargic, and the common people began to voice their dissatisfaction being interrogated every few days was a severe disruption. Consequently, strict searches were limited to Ruzhou City, while other counties only maintained watch over the mountain passes.
With the Eight Precepts Festival at Guangning Temple in Lushan County approaching, Commander Zheng, unable to withstand the pressure, finally recalled Zhang Zhaoge.
The day Zhang Zhaoge donned her armor to report for duty, the vice-commanders of the other two battalions expressed their “envy” over how many days she had been allowed to rest. Their tone was sour, meant to make it seem as though Zhang Zhaoge had abandoned her men and voluntarily taken leave. Zhang Zhaoge thought to herself, Who said these rough military men were simple-minded? Their skill in sowing discord is quite impressive.
Feigning ignorance of their sarcasm, she replied sincerely: “Oh, so you all wanted to rest? You should have said so! Commander Zheng is fair and impartial; he always rewards merit. Once you all have performed a meritorious deed, I’m sure Commander Zheng will show you the same compassion and let you rest for a few extra days.” She added, “Though, why can’t you seize opportunities for merit? If you had captured the Huaixi spies earlier, then surely it would be you all resting today.”
Stung by her sarcasm, the two vice-commanders lost their composure and departed with grim expressions.
Upon her return, Zhang Zhaoge’s first assignment was to assist Guangning Temple in maintaining order during the festival. On the day of the event, Zhang Zhaoge arrived at the temple early with her troops. Tens of thousands of devout followers traveled from afar, and as the temple could not accommodate them, they settled in straw sheds set up at the foot of the mountain. In the cold night, those without quilts huddled around bonfires or curled into corners to escape the wind.
Qiu Hu didn’t understand: “Boss, you say they run this far in such cold weather just to donate money, and if they meet danger on the way, they might not even make it back alive. What for?”
Zhang Zhaoge’s expression was unreadable: “Faith, who knows.”
The bells of Guangning Temple tolled. It was dawn. As the followers set off toward the venue, Zhang Zhaoge spotted two familiar figures in the crowd. Dou Ying and Cui Yun pushed through the masses toward her, removing their veils and smiling: “Dalao (Big Brother), it really is you.”
Zhang Zhaoge was surprised: “Dou Xiaoxiao, why are you here?”
Cui Yun turned to look at Dou Ying when she heard Zhang Zhaoge use Dou Ying’s childhood nickname. Dou Ying remained calm: “Not allowed?”
“Of course not.”
Dou Ying explained, “I was stifled staying in Bianzhou, and when I heard that Seventh Miss was spending the New Year in Zhaoping Township, I came to keep her company.”
Zhang Zhaoge’s gaze shifted to Cui Yun. Perhaps because the weather was clear or because she had her dear sister’s company, Cui Yun looked radiant. Zhang Zhaoge quickly looked away, satisfied to see their servants following nearby. “There are too many people today; watch out for stampedes and don’t go where it’s too crowded.”
Dou Ying smiled: “We will certainly not add to your burdens, Dalao.” Despite this, Zhang Zhaoge still dispatched two soldiers to follow them.
The festival attracted not just monks and followers, but also peddlers seeking business. In the city, merchants were confined to designated markets, but here, peddlers spread their straw mats on the ground and displayed their wares, shouting their pitches without fear of being driven away by patrols.
As the government’s grip on these restrictions loosened, “grass markets” began to flourish, typically near military outposts due to both convenient transport and the safety provided by soldiers. Of course, they could brazenly operate here thanks to the soldiers’ indulgence after all, the markets sold private liquor that the soldiers enjoyed.
While patrolling, Zhang Zhaoge strolled through the market to see if there were any interesting trinkets to collect. Qiu Hu saw her pause at a stall selling children’s toys and said: “Boss, these are just for kids.” The boss doesn’t have children; why is she looking at these?
Zhang Zhaoge said: “This goose-shaped whistle is nice. I’ll use it to replace verbal commands during your drills.”
Qiu Hu: “…” He felt his scalp tingle and slipped away.
Just as Zhang Zhaoge was about to pay, a hand reached over and snatched the whistle. She turned to find it was Dou Ying and was amused: “Why are you here alone?”
“Seventh Miss is praying.”
Seeing Dou Ying playfully twirling the whistle, Zhang Zhaoge knew she intended to “take what she likes,” so she simply bought two instead. As she handed over the money, Dou Ying glanced at her: “Dalao, why buy an extra one? Are you planning to give it to Seventh Miss?”
Zhang Zhaoge paused, looked around, and not seeing Cui Yun, asked: “Seventh Miss isn’t here; why would you ask that?”
Dou Ying looked at her with a knowing smile: “Rumor has it in the village that Dalao and a gentleman were fighting for Seventh Miss’s favor, even coming to blows.”
Zhang Zhaoge: [Image: Old man on subway looking at phone]
“Where did that rumor come from?” Was it from when she and Wang Hecheng were bickering?
“Is it a rumor? I thought it was true. Having known Dalao for so long, I’ve never seen you pay special attention to any woman. I used to think you weren’t interested in women, but it seems you have a preference for women like my Seventh Miss.”
Zhang Zhaoge: “…”
She told Dou Ying the truth of the matter and then asked: “Did you truly come just to accompany Cui Yun for the New Year?”
The smile on Dou Ying’s face faded. After a moment of silence, she sighed helplessly: “Nothing gets past you, Dalao.”