Since a tongfang was still a maidservant and not yet a concubine, without any formal status, there was no established protocol for young masters of ordinary households to take a tongfang. In most cases, the young master would simply take a fancy to a girl and muddle through the affair until they ended up in bed together.
But the Duke Ding mansion, from the very beginning of its noble title, had set rules for all the men of the household—even taking a tongfang had to be done through proper channels.
The process for taking a tongfang in the Duke Ding mansion was roughly this: serve tea, share a meal, take to the bed, complete the ceremony, and done.
So when Gu Zhao entered the room, the two matrons followed protocol and prepared the tea and tea set outside for the tea-serving ceremony. They had just carried the tea set through the door when—thud—came the sound of someone dropping to their knees and kowtowing.
The matron carrying the tea set was still wondering to herself, this girl’s etiquette really isn’t up to par, why on earth would she kneel out of nowhere—when suddenly a woman’s shrill, anguished wail rang out:
“Your subject Yan Pan begs Vice Minister Gu for justice! Your subject wishes to report Yangzhou Transport Commissioner Yang Siyong and Yangzhou Chief Merchant Zhang Jingyan—colluding between official and merchant, conspiring to frame and entrap loyal and upright men, their crimes deserving of death!”
The wail was so piercing and miserable that the matron holding the teapot felt her heart skip a beat. Her hand slipped, and a whole pot of fine Biluochun tea—pot, cups, tea, and water—went crashing down in a cacophony of shattering porcelain, leaving half the inner room’s floor in complete disarray.
Yet amid such commotion on both sides, Gu Zhao didn’t so much as twitch a single hair.
He gave Nanny Li a look to clear the room. Nanny Li quickly pulled the other matron out, shooed all the attendants from the outer chamber into the courtyard, and then stationed herself at the door to prevent anyone from barging in.
Since this involved official matters, Gu Zhao waited until the room was cleared of all idle personnel before setting the jewelry box he held onto the table. With an utterly composed expression, he dragged over a chair, sat down, his boots stepping over the mess on the floor, and looked at Yan Pan:
“Is there anything else you wish to state? Continue.”
The Vice Minister’s reaction was not what she had expected. Yan Pan paused, rallied herself, and wailed again:
“Your subject wishes to report Yangzhou Transport Commissioner Yang Siyong, Yangzhou Chief Merchant Zhang Jingyan—colluding between official and merchant…”
The first burst carries momentum; the second falters; the third is spent.
By the second repetition of the same words, her momentum had clearly weakened considerably. It seemed she had nothing new to say. Gu Zhao had no patience to listen to this circular refrain again and cut her off, asking:
“And the evidence?”
Yan Pan had been waiting for Lord Gu to ask exactly that. She shuffled forward on her knees, tears streaming:
“I have ironclad evidence! I want to see the Emperor in person—I want to petition the Emperor directly! I beg Your Excellency to show mercy and let me see His Majesty. The moment I see the Emperor, I will produce the evidence!”
Gu Zhao tapped his fingers lightly against the edge of the table and asked:
“You said your surname is Yan? What relation is former Yangzhou Yantai Yushi Yan Qizhong to you?”
At the mention of her father’s name, Yan Pan wept even harder, tears and snot streaming down her face as she choked out:
“He is my father! My father did not kill anyone, nor did he sell smuggled salt. The ones selling smuggled salt were them! My father refused to go along with their corruption, and so they conspired to frame him and turn the blame onto him. I beg Your Excellency to see the truth clearly.”
Gu Zhao suddenly rose to his feet, picked up the jewelry box, and headed for the door, saying to Nanny Li who stood guard outside:
“Nanny Li, tie her up. Tomorrow, send her back to Guanyachu.”
Yan Pan had no idea where things had gone wrong. Scrambling frantically, she chased after Gu Zhao and grabbed hold of his boot, demanding shrilly:
“Lord Gu! Are you shielding them? Are you afraid of them too?”
Gu Zhao looked down at Yan Pan from his full height, his tone impossible to read as pleased or displeased, speaking flatly and matter-of-factly:
“Yan Qizhong, born of a poor farming family, jinshi of the second rank in the eighteenth year of Yonghe. Two years ago, he was transferred to the post of Yangzhou Yantai Yushi. Three months ago, he was stripped of his position and placed under investigation. Lord Yan served as Yangzhou Salt Commissioner for barely two years, yet when his household was searched and confiscated, four hundred thousand taels of silver were found. Miss Yan, the annual salt tax of our dynasty is no more than ten million taels, with the Lianghuai region contributing half of that. Your father alone dared to embezzle four hundred thousand taels. For such a treasonous, corrupt, and lawbreaking scoundrel, even death by lingchi would not be excessive. My sentencing him to immediate execution by beheading was already an act of extraordinary leniency—and you still dare to claim injustice?”
Gu Zhao’s tone was not harsh—one could even call it gentle—but those gentle words struck Yan Pan’s heart like knives carving and axes chiseling, word after word.
Yan Pan was terrified by the four hundred thousand taels Gu Zhao mentioned. Her face instantly drained of all color. Trembling in fear and panic, utterly lost and bewildered, she collapsed limply to the ground.
After her father had been transferred to the post of Yangzhou Yantai Yushi, the household’s expenditures had grown increasingly extravagant day by day. Yes, the family had accepted some tribute from the salt merchants—but that was nothing unusual. People became officials to get rich; who in officialdom didn’t accept gifts? The Salt Commission was supposed to be a lucrative post anyway.
But four hundred thousand taels—that was completely beyond her imagination. How could there be that much? Had the family really taken in that much?
Listening to the sound of Vice Minister Gu’s footsteps growing gradually more distant, and thinking of how—if her father couldn’t have his case overturned—she would be sent back to Guanyachu, not knowing where she might end up, Yan Pan was suddenly seized by a desperate impulse of mutual destruction: if she was going to die, she’d take everyone down with her—no one would get to live.
She scrambled up from the ground, tearing at her outer robe and inner garment as she stumbled after him, pulling a ledger book from her underclothes and shouting:
“They are not innocent either. I have evidence—ironclad evidence! I have the ledger of salt smuggler Lei Dawu colluding with Yangzhou’s chief merchant Zhang Jingyan to traffic illegal salt!”
Gu Zhao looked at Yan Pan’s bloodshot eyes, like those of a gambler, and sighed:
“Miss Yan, if I were you, I would have left that ledger in Yangzhou for the authorities to seize. You truly should not have brought it on your person. You could have still returned to the official brokerage, but now, I can only send you to the Ministry of Justice’s prison.”
…
The night had grown deep. Last night, Gu Zhao had sat beneath the lamplight examining the Fire-Avoidance Illustrations his grandmother had sent. Tonight, in the same position, with the same posture, and even the same calm, expressionless demeanor, Gu Zhao was reading the ledger Yan Pan had spoken of.
His attendant returned from Fu’antang and saw that the evening meal laid out in the room had long gone cold, yet the young lord had not touched a single bite. Standing by the door, he asked:
“My lord, the food has gone cold. Shall I have the kitchen send up some late-night refreshments?”
Gu Zhao gave a grunt of acknowledgment, still examining the ledger, and asked:
“How is Grandmother? What did the physician say?”
Having finally persuaded her grandson to take a tongfang, only for him to select, at the very last moment, one who harbored treacherous intentions—upon receiving this news, Old Madame Gu had collapsed in a fit of rage on the spot.
With the old matriarch fallen ill, the entire household came to attend to her, crowding the room in a great throng. The Duchess of Ding felt that with so many people, the room was too stuffy and the old lady would not rest well, so she kept only herself to serve the matriarch and shooed away Gu Zhao along with the younger generation.
Gu Zhao had left his attendant waiting outside Fu’antang for news, and the attendant had only dared return once the old lady was stabilized. He replied:
“Lady Zhu said the old lady suffered a sudden surge of fire attacking her heart. Tonight she will take medicine to induce perspiration and expel the pent-up qi. As long as the fever breaks by tomorrow morning, there will be no great danger. Lady Zhu prescribed the medicine, and the old lady has already fallen asleep after taking it.”
Hearing an unfamiliar name, Gu Zhao finally looked up:
“Who is this Lady Zhu? Why not summon the imperial physician?”
The attendant had always served in the front courtyard and did not know the affairs of the inner quarters—especially those of the old lady’s courtyard—particularly well. Not daring to speak carelessly, he only said:
“I only heard a word or two from Nanny Li. It seems the old lady does not care much for imperial physicians—she finds them overly cautious, slow, and troublesome. She has always preferred to call in female physicians. Lady Zhu is highly skilled; she previously treated the old lady’s back injury, so the old lady still requested her services.”