Dealing with a few meddlesome women was hardly even an appetizer for Zhao Su Rui. Reading the confession extracted from that Liu woman, he gained a clearer understanding of Shen San Fei’s current predicament.
A Chi was Shen San Fei’s maidservant, so naturally she sided with her mistress in everything. When speaking, she was careful not to upset Shen San Fei, inevitably withholding certain details.
It turned out Shen San Fei had an uncle, a younger uncle, and a maternal uncle in her family. The elder uncle, Shen Xian, had been living in seclusion in the mountains as a renowned scholar. The younger uncle, Shen Xia, currently served as an instructor in the Hunan Education Bureau. In Zhao Su Rui’s view, these two could be described as poor and pedantic—while they couldn’t be relied upon, they weren’t likely to cause major trouble either. The real problem was Shen San Fei’s maternal uncle—Qin Tongxi, a secretary in the Court of the Imperial Stud.
Zhao Su Rui wanted to rub his personal seal, but halfway through reaching for it—
His hand was blocked by a silver hairpin with a jade head. He thought about pulling out the pin and tossing it aside, but then remembered A Chi saying this hairpin was left to Shen San Fei by her father.
Zhao Su Rui withdrew his hand.
Actually, this matter had some connection to him.
Last year when he personally led the military campaign, he had ordered the Ministry of War to prepare one hundred thousand warhorses. After waiting two months, the various southern horse administration offices had only managed to produce seven thousand horses.
The Ministry of War claimed the Southern Court of the Imperial Stud had failed in horse breeding.
The Southern Court of the Imperial Stud countered that the Ministry of War had borrowed military funds from them without repayment.
The two departments shifting blame back and forth annoyed Zhao Su Rui so much that he simply demoted the useless officials in the Ministry of War while keeping them in their posts, and dismissed most of the incompetents in the Southern Court of the Imperial Stud.
Qin Tongxi was among that “majority.”
Originally, they were to be tried for their crimes, but after his great victory and in his good mood, coupled with intercession from the Grand Secretariat, he had let all those useless officials return home.
Though the position of secretary in the Court of the Imperial Stud was only sixth rank, Qin Tongxi had been the most reliable support among Shen San Fei’s blood relatives. With his fall from grace, Shen San Fei—already considered worthless in the Xie Family’s eyes—gained another troublesome relative.
Looking around, all he could see were Taoist classics like “Laozi’s Dao De Jing with Heshang Gong’s Commentary,” “Collected Commentaries on Zhuangzi,” and “Yellow Court Classic.” Outside the window wasn’t even worth calling scenery. The only bits of color came from pigment bottles prepared by this body’s original owner, each labeled with color samples.
Randomly opening a porcelain container of First Blue glaze, Zhao Su Rui shook his head inwardly.
Surrounded by wolves, this woman surnamed Shen only knew how to paint and read scriptures. That she had been driven to self-harm wasn’t surprising at all.
Weak body, weak character, weak mind—the name Shen San Fei (Three Wastes) truly didn’t disgrace her.
A light sound came from outside the door as the maid called A Chi entered quietly carrying a tray: “Miss, please eat something. Tu Nan prepared chestnut porridge for you. Have it with flatbread and steamed eggs, then we’ll take medicine afterward.”
Zhao Su Rui glanced at his wounds. The silver hairpin had only penetrated about half an inch—looked frightening but actually hadn’t damaged any muscles or bones. Only these sheltered women would make such a fuss and insist on medicine.
The chestnut porridge did smell quite fragrant though.
Zhao Su Rui picked up the bowl and took a direct sip, nodding with satisfaction. The only benefit of being Shen San Fei was the decent food. That maid called Tu Nan’s culinary skills far surpassed the chefs at the Court of Imperial Sacrifices. While that eunuch San Mao’s fish dish was worth eating, purely in terms of cooking skills, he couldn’t compare to Tu Nan.
“It’s a bit plain.” Picking at the minced meat on the steamed egg with his chopstick tip, Zhao Su Rui expressed dissatisfaction. “This Zhuangzi raises pigs and sheep, right? Slaughter two tomorrow morning.”
“Slaughter two? Miss, a single sheep has so much meat, you couldn’t possibly eat it all!”
“How could I not finish it?” Zhao Su Rui took a large bite of steamed pancake wrapped around the egg. “Aren’t there over thirty guards in the Zhuangzi? Plus over a hundred tenant farmers. They helped me… capture those matrons, so they deserve a reward. I’ll also have them start training. Find me some practical clothes without frills—tomorrow I’m going to the training ground to drill troops.”
Training ground? Drill troops?
A Chi watched her young mistress devouring pancakes and gulping down porridge, blinking in disbelief.
Her young mistress had indeed become much more… spirited after this injury.
Zhao Su Rui meant what he said—when he declared he would drill troops, he truly intended to do so. Shen San Fei had no support within the Xie Family and would grasp at any opportunity. These thirty-plus guards, ranging from fifteen to forty-nine years old, were all capable fighters. With proper training, they could at least handle any number of matrons the Xie Family might send.
Early the next morning, a large iron cauldron was set up in the threshing ground between fields, stewing two cleaned sheep over a roaring fire that made everyone’s mouths water.
Dressed in a black narrow-sleeved robe that A Chi and others had hurriedly prepared overnight, Zhao Su Rui sat sideways on a carried-out rosewood chair.
“The other day, several Xie Family matrons took advantage of the situation to cause trouble, attempting to harm me. If not for your intervention, I might have died in the Buddhist hall. This is your reward.”
A stir rippled through the crowd.
Many of the guards assigned to the Zhuangzi didn’t even know which direction the Ning’an Lord Manor’s main gate faced, let alone had they ever seen the ladies from the Xie Family’s inner quarters. The thought of a mistress distributing meat to them was beyond imagination. With a clatter, several quick-witted ones knelt before the “Second Young Mistress.”
“Second Young Mistress, you’re the master… this isn’t proper.”
Truth be told, these men still didn’t fully understand what had happened. Two nights ago, Pei Feng suddenly burst in with a sword, saying matrons had injured the Second Young Mistress. They’d followed in confusion to capture the culprits—just a few matrons, resulting in nothing more than some scratches on their bellies and heads, easier than hunting wild boars. Who could have imagined they’d be rewarded with meat?
“There’s nothing improper about it.” Zhao Su Rui smiled, scanning the guards’ faces one by one, hoping to find a couple of clever ones. He found none—combined, they weren’t as pleasing to the eye as the few maids around Shen San Fei.
“You won’t just eat meat today.” His fingers lightly spread and then closed. “Starting tomorrow, I’ll have Pei Feng train you here for two hours daily. Those who complete the drills get meat. Those who excel can take extra home to their parents and wives. One condition: if you eat my meat, you follow my orders. Should any more troublemaking matrons or gate-crashing thieves appear, you’ll handle them for me.”
Hearing they could eat meat daily, the guards flushed with excitement, nearly kowtowing to the Second Young Mistress on the spot.
As for catching matrons and thieves? What was that compared to meat?!
Watching the guards kneel haphazardly before him, Zhao Su Rui found the scene utterly dull.
But drilling a dozen or so house guards, what was that? He had once led thousands of troops to capture three enemy princes in the northern deserts—now that was a grand spectacle.
Looking around, Zhao Surui felt something was missing. Glancing left and right, he said to A Chi standing beside him:
“Well? Impressive, isn’t it?”
The Zhaode Emperor was rather unaccustomed to the lack of flattery.
The maid in a blue vest had bright eyes and said with a smile, “My lady can always achieve what she sets out to do.”
Tsk, Shen San Fei? What could she possibly accomplish? She’s probably still crying in Zhaohua Yuan right now.
Zhao Surui rolled his eyes inwardly and straightened his posture.
The thought that it was his, Zhao Surui’s, body crying made his mood worsen considerably.
“My lady, you’ve gone to great lengths to train these house guards, but in the end, they still belong to the Xie Family. What if the Xie Family sends someone to harm you again…”
Hearing this question, Zhao Surui looked up at the speaker—it was Tu Nan, the maid by Shen San Fei’s side, who possessed some martial skills and considerable culinary talent.
What Zhao Surui hadn’t expected was that she also had some brains.
“The Xie Family is nothing more than a fourth-tier household in Yanjing City,” the Zhaode Emperor said disdainfully.
“Xie Wen Yuan has fallen so low as to sell his own son to the daughter of a third-rank general—where would he get the money to raise estate guards? With just ten days to half a month of training, these house guards might still have some fighting capability. Besides, I doubt Xie Wen Yuan ever considered using estate guards to deal with Shen… your lady. In the future, if the Xie Family sends people again, it’ll just be more house guards and old women. As for them being the Xie Family’s people…”
The autumn weather was cool, and the wind howled through the woods, rustling the leaves. The woman’s icy voice scattered in the wind.
“They will understand—once they’ve eaten my meat, they can no longer be the Xie Family’s people.”
Smiling smugly, Zhao Surui looked at Tu Nan through Shen Shiqing’s eyes, expecting to see the maid looking bewildered or frightened.
But to his surprise, Tu Nan only remained silent for a moment before bowing to her:
“Thank you for your instruction, my lady.”
What instruction?
Seeing the clarity and apparent enlightenment in Tu Nan’s eyes, it was Zhao Surui who ended up being surprised.
Could this maid have actually understood what he meant? If so… how could Shen San Fei herself be so useless when even her maids had brains?
“By the way, there’s one more thing.”
Zhao Surui looked at the maid who had remained silent all along—her name seemed to be Pei Feng?
“The estate manager here is still locked up?”
“Yes, my lady. The manager has been confined to the woodshed for two days.”
“Hmm.”
The maids watched as their lady nodded slightly, then waved her hand:
“Go confiscate his property and bring back the estate’s account books.”
The autumn wind suddenly gusted fiercely. The slender woman casually brushed aside a stray lock of hair from her forehead, narrowing her bright eyes that held the clarity of autumn waters as she said calmly:
“He dared to block me from seeking a physician when I was injured. Such a person cannot be kept.”
The maids simultaneously looked at their “lady,” then bowed in unison: “Yes, my lady.”
Less than two hours after returning to the inner courtyard, Pei Feng entered carrying a box: “I have completed what you instructed, my lady.”
Zhao Surui waved his hand: “Give it all to A Chi.”
A Chi looked at the box in her hands, confused: “My lady?”
“These are the account books from this Zhuangzi.”
Zhao Su Rui sat with his legs casually crossed, holding a plate of mutton dumplings. The steaming dumplings held savory broth inside. Squinting in enjoyment for a moment, he said with a smile:
“From now on, this will be our own Zhuangzi. Take good care of our money bags.”
Although this Zhuangzi was originally the Xie Family’s property, since he had arrived, it now belonged to him.
Zhao Su Rui ate two more dumplings, still reveling in his satisfaction, when a young maid suddenly entered and reported:
“Second Young Mistress, Madam Liu has arrived.”
Before the maid could finish speaking, a woman had already lifted the curtain and stepped inside:
“My poor little A-Qing, so delicate and slender—how could you endure such hardship? Let your godmother see if your injuries have improved?”
Before the Zhaode Emperor, who still had half a meat dumpling in his mouth, could clearly see who had entered, he was tightly embraced—along with his plate—by a woman clutching him to her chest.