Zhou Sui’an this time truly could not finish his assignments; he was driven into a corner and no longer cared about the fine details of gentlemanly conduct.
For days, he had been gnawing his pen to pieces while writing memorials, never expecting that the lifesaving straw was right at his bedside. At that moment, even Yin Xuefang’s tearful farewells were cast far away by Zhou Sui’an.
He puffed out his cheeks in mock reproach: “Why are you only giving this to me now!”
Chu Linlang, calmly winding thread, replied in a cool tone: “My lord has been in a poetic mood lately, producing fine verses one after another. I feared delaying the rise of a great poet, so I was a little slow in handing it over.”
Zhou Sui’an knew his wife well—though she looked delicate, she was in fact a fiery chili pepper—a chili soaked in vinegar and oil: not only hot, but capable of spitting flames.
He explained helplessly: “It wasn’t my idea. Miss Yin insisted on a farewell poem and begged me to oblige. She wasn’t asking for gold or silver—she’s an old acquaintance. How could I refuse and embarrass her? In a couple of days, I’ll write you a whole collection of poems instead, will that do?”
Chu Linlang was finally amused enough to smile faintly, then pushed him toward the study to finish his work.
News spread that Master Zhang was returning to the capital, with the date already set, and that before departure, there must be a farewell banquet.
Though the post of *zouma chengshou* (a minor official who reports directly to the throne) was not high, its power was considerable. After all, who would not fear such a “Kitchen God of complaints”?
The officials of Lianzhou never expected that even the Sixth Prince—renowned for his decisive and ruthless nature—would come personally to see Zhang Xian off. Zhang Xian himself was greatly surprised, hastily stepping down from his carriage to bow.
Chu Linlang also came to the farewell. Among the crowd was Zhang Xian’s wife, Madam Lin. Seeing Chu Linlang, she discreetly pulled her aside and whispered about her younger brother’s missing accounts.
Chu Linlang murmured back that the item was no longer on her husband’s desk. Since it had been delivered anonymously, verifying it would take effort, but with her there, no mistakes would occur.
Madam Lin was still uneasy and asked how Chu Linlang had disposed of it. Chu Linlang could hardly admit she had swallowed it down with a cup of tea, so she casually said she had burned it.
Only then did Madam Lin relax. In return, she warned Chu Linlang: “Your husband is loyal and dutiful, but as an outsider, he doesn’t get along well with his subordinates, and official handovers are not smooth. If the Sixth Prince finds fault and reports it directly, my husband may not be able to speak well for him. When that time comes, Madam Chu, please don’t misunderstand my husband.”
Chu Linlang understood the hidden meaning—whether or not Zhang Xian intended harm, Zhou Sui’an’s performance before the Sixth Prince might still fail to satisfy.
Fortunately, she had her own plan. After Zhou Sui’an had once stood dumbstruck before the prince, he finally learned to be cautious.
Now Zhou Sui’an was full of spirit, though slightly anxious, bracing himself for the prince’s next questioning.
But Chu Linlang had her own worries. She felt very uneasy, because Situ Sheng’s servant unexpectedly returned the banknote she had sent!
Thinking of this, she lifted her eyes to glance at the gentleman standing behind the Sixth Prince. This Mr. Situ, though titled *Shaoshi* (Junior Tutor), was not truly one of the prince’s officials, so he stood a little farther back.
A handsome man, even standing quietly with hands clasped behind his back in a corner, would still draw attention.
Chu Linlang, bored, let her gaze wander over him—only to meet his eyes unexpectedly.
This man’s gaze was far more penetrating than his harmless, scholarly appearance suggested. Especially when he fixed his eyes on someone, it seemed to pierce straight into their soul.
By convention, Chu Linlang should have avoided the gaze of another man to preserve propriety. But remembering that he had refused her gift and was harboring some unknown intention, she dared not look away. Instead, she offered him a polite, ingratiating smile, planning to find another chance later to probe his thoughts.
This time, Situ Sheng lowered his eyes and turned away, no longer looking at the smiling young woman. He calmly turned back to watch the Sixth Prince chatting with the officials.
The Sixth Prince, though a royal on official duty, had to show respect to the *zouma chengshou*—those minor officials who specialized in reporting directly to the throne. To give Zhang Xian face, he personally came to see him off and entrusted him with a letter written in his own hand for the Emperor, as a display of filial piety.
After the formalities of farewell, the “Kitchen God of complaints” was finally sent on his way.
Yet the officials did not disperse, for what followed was a spectacle meant to “kill the chicken to scare the monkeys.” The assassins who had attacked the Sixth Prince were all captured. There was no need to wait for autumn executions; after pressing their fingerprints, they were dragged to the city gate and executed immediately.
In such borderlands, watching an execution was as lively as watching a village play. Crowds packed the gate so tightly that not even water could seep through.
Zhou Sui’an, fearing Chu Linlang might be frightened, urged her to leave. But she was still determined to find an opportunity to speak with Situ Sheng, so she refused to go.
At the moment of execution, Chu Linlang did not wish to watch. Yet as the crowd surged forward, she was pushed along. Just as the executioner raised his blade, a tall figure happened to stand in front of her, blocking her view completely. Looking up, she realized it was Mr. Situ.
Though they stood so close that she could smell the clean scent of soap from his clothes, the crowd pressed around them so tightly that she had no chance to ask why he had refused her bribe.
Suddenly, a commotion arose ahead, and the crowd cried out, surging forward again. Chu Linlang, small in stature, was shoved from behind and fell against Situ Sheng’s back.
When had she ever been so near to a man other than her husband? She immediately struggled, pushing against his back to retreat and regain some distance.
Situ Sheng looked tall and slender, but pressed against his back—even through clothing—she felt the hardness of iron-like muscles, so firm that her nose and chest ached from the impact.
From start to finish, Situ Sheng never turned around. He stood like a mountain in the crowd, his back straight and unmoving.
Chu Linlang realized she would not get a chance to speak with him today. Having accidentally brushed against his back, she felt embarrassed. Since he had not turned around, she decided to slip away quietly. With her maid, she squeezed out of the crowd and descended the city gate tower.
As she stepped down, she glanced toward the gate and saw two carriages just entering the city. Blocked by the crowd, one carriage stopped, and a middle-aged man poked his head out, cursing angrily.
Chu Linlang narrowed her eyes to look more closely, and her face changed—she knew that face all too well.
After the execution, the prefect invited the Sixth Prince and the officials of Lianzhou, including Zhou Sui’an, to dine at a restaurant.
Such occasions were not suitable for women, so Chu Linlang excused herself and returned home. But no sooner had she arrived than she received a summons.
The letter bore her father’s name, Chu Huaisheng, ordering her to come immediately to the city inn. At the city gate, she had already seen her father’s carriage, so she was somewhat prepared.
She was usually decisive in handling matters, rarely hesitant. Yet whenever it came to visiting her family, she always delayed again and again before going.
When she married into the Zhou family, she thought she had escaped her father’s household. But unexpectedly, her father, Chu Huaisheng, had now brought her mother, Madam Sun, to this remote border town of Lianzhou.
Fortunately, by custom, a father-in-law should not enter his son-in-law’s home. Otherwise, with Chu Huaisheng’s temper, he might have stormed straight into the Zhou residence instead of staying at the inn.
Reading her father’s letter, Chu Linlang felt this meeting was nothing less than a banquet of hidden daggers.
When she defied her father by marrying the poor scholar Zhou Sui’an, Chu Huaisheng lost favor with an elder official, failing to send his daughter as a concubine. The elder was furious, scolding Chu Huaisheng harshly and costing him a whole shipment of salt. He had even planned to accuse Zhou Sui’an at the yamen, willing to ruin his daughter’s reputation by charging Zhou Sui’an with abducting a respectable woman.
Fortunately, Chu Linlang had prepared in advance, holding evidence of her brother’s evasion of salt taxes. With that leverage, she forced her father to relent, grudgingly providing a meager dowry and allowing a simple wedding.
From then on, Chu Huaisheng treated her as though she no longer existed, never acknowledging her as his daughter. Yet Chu Linlang still worried for her mother, enduring cold treatment but visiting her from time to time.
Later, when Zhou Sui’an achieved great success in the imperial examinations, Chu Huaisheng’s attitude shifted dramatically. Suddenly he remembered he had a third daughter born of a concubine.
Ironically, Chu Linlang no longer wished to return home. She understood that, as an official’s wife, her mother now had protection and would not be mistreated. If she visited too often, her father would only try to exploit her status, putting Zhou Sui’an in a difficult position.
Even so, her father repeatedly played the role of a doting father-in-law, inviting Zhou Sui’an to banquets, promising to arrange a post for him in the salt administration, and asking him to smooth the way for his own benefit.
When she followed Zhou Sui’an to Lianzhou, she finally breathed easier, thinking she had escaped her father’s reach. But unexpectedly, Chu Huaisheng appeared in the city.
He claimed her mother had fallen ill on the journey. Though reluctant, Chu Linlang worried it might be true, so she eventually made her way to the inn.
As she stepped down from her carriage, she saw a sallow face peering from the inn’s doorway. The thin, gray-haired woman in her forties was her mother, Sun Fu.
Though aged and frail, her features resembled Chu Linlang’s enough to show she had once been a beauty, but time had worn away her charm, leaving only deep, unsoftened lines.
Seeing her daughter’s radiant face, Sun Fu’s expression lit up with rare joy. She hurried forward, grasping her daughter’s hand, though words failed her.
All of Chu Linlang’s hesitation melted away at that moment. Holding her mother’s hand, she choked out: “Mother, you’ve grown thinner again!”
She had sent medicinal supplements several times before—where had they gone? It seemed her father’s claim of illness was not false.
Sun Fu quickly reassured her: “It’s nothing serious. Everyone falls ill now and then. I caught a chill, but a few doses of medicine have already helped.”
Just then, a deliberate cough sounded from the second floor of the inn. A middle-aged man’s angry voice rang out: “Ignorant woman! Standing at the inn’s doorway gossiping endlessly—why don’t you hurry and bring this wretched girl upstairs to pay her respects to her father!”