Although she only had one younger brother, even before he’d been born, her mom and dad had always been busy with their business. At first, when she couldn’t see them, Zhao Xiaojin used to cry and throw tantrums about it, but it never made a difference.
Gradually, as she grew up, she stopped needing her mom and dad’s attention so much.
But it was only after her mom had her little brother that she truly realized, it wasn’t that her parents didn’t love their children. If you ranked the order of their love, it would go: little brother, then their business, and only after that, her.
The little monk had so many brothers and sisters, while his father was just one man, there was even less love to go around for him. You could tell as much from the fact that even while he’d been sick and needed care, there hadn’t been a single family member by his side.
What did she mean, “my family’s like that too”?
Yin Cheng still hadn’t quite recovered from his secondary consort’s remark.
He hadn’t said a single word yet, and she’d already guessed what he was about to ask? Otherwise, why bring up her own family out of nowhere like this? Then again, could his own unhappiness really have anything to do with his father having so many sons?
“Your family…” Yin Cheng thought for a moment. “Do you have a lot of siblings?”
“Not really, I’m the older one, I just have one little brother.” Bringing this up, Zhao Xiaojin couldn’t help thinking of him.
Although he cried and made a fuss a lot, sometimes going overboard with it, whenever he smiled at her, the resolve she’d just steeled herself with to ignore him would strangely melt away. Maybe it was because her little brother was so chubby, and his smile was so soft and warm, that she just couldn’t resist it.
“My little brother has a bit of a temper, and he can be really fierce when he’s throwing a fit. But when he’s calm, he’s actually pretty cute.” Zhao Xiaojin searched for the right word. “I guess with him, it’s kind of a love-hate thing.”
“Then where is he now?” Yin Cheng asked.
“Oh, he’s doing just fine.” Mom and Dad dote on him so much. “As for me, I probably won’t ever see him again.” Zhao Xiaojin rolled over and said nothing more.
She’d forgotten what had prompted her to speak up in the first place, but at that point, she simply didn’t feel like talking anymore.
Yin Cheng waited a while for her to continue, but nothing came. Before he could even find the right words of comfort, a familiar, steady breathing sound rose up beside him.
Ah, his secondary consort had fallen asleep.
The next morning, when Zhao Xiaojin woke up, she found, for once, that Ajiu, who normally followed her everywhere, was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Ajiu?” It felt like something was missing all of a sudden.
“She went to the front. Apparently there’s still a bit of unfinished business from her old post.” Yin Cheng looked over his secondary consort, seemingly perfectly fine, as though it hadn’t been her missing her little brother the night before at all.
“Oh, then I’ll go check on the potato sprouts.” Now that she knew where Ajiu had gone, Zhao Xiaojin gave a quick greeting and headed off toward the end room on the right, as usual.
So his secondary consort had simply asked out of curiosity about Ajiu’s whereabouts, with not a hint of suspicion at all.
Yin Cheng himself had only just found out that morning, when Wang Xiaohai told him. It turned out Ajiu had been standing outside against the wall the night before, listening in, everything he and his secondary consort had said to each other had been overheard.
Ajiu was someone his father had specifically sent back with him, and yet this blatant eavesdropping still left him feeling rather uneasy. During the day it was one thing, but now, even at night, he and his secondary consort would have to watch what they said.
Then again, his secondary consort still had no idea about Ajiu’s real background, so she had no guard up whatsoever. Being the one who knew, and unable to reveal it, weighed on Yin Cheng’s mind too, he worried constantly that his secondary consort might let something slip without meaning to.
By the time Ajiu returned, it was already noon. The moment she got back, she went straight to find Zhao Xiaojin.
“Secondary consort, someone from the Imperial Workshop asked me to relay a message. Would you be interested in going there in person? There’s a craftsman there who may have succeeded in melting the glass you wanted.”
“Really? It’s only been ten days and they’ve already produced it?” Zhao Xiaojin looked up from the writing desk. “Can I go?” She asked the little monk sitting beside her.
Yin Cheng thought about it for a moment, then caught the look in Ajiu’s eyes.
“If you want to go, then go. Naturally, I’ll come along too.” He nodded, then added his own intention afterward.
From the Northern Five Houses to the Imperial Workshop was almost like crossing from the palace’s northeast corner all the way to its southwest, quite a long way, so two palanquins were prepared for the trip.
This was Zhao Xiaojin’s first time riding in a palanquin, and the moment it lifted off, she nearly tumbled right out of it. She’d clearly gripped the sides properly, and the bearers outside had even called out “lifting”, so why did it feel like she was about to fall out?
Fortunately, Ajiu, outside, caught her in time before she actually fell.
“Secondary consort, are you all right?” Ajiu lifted the curtain at the side of the palanquin.
“No, no, I’m fine.” Now that the palanquin had already lifted, she just needed a moment to get used to the motion.
The two palanquins traveled one behind the other, not far apart, so conversation from the rear one could still be heard.
“Xiaohai, what happened back there?” Yin Cheng had heard his secondary consort’s voice.
“Young Master, it’s nothing. The secondary consort’s likely riding a palanquin for the first time and got a bit startled, she’s fine now.” Wang Xiaohai glanced back and figured out roughly what had happened.
Her first time riding a palanquin?
Could a family capable of raising a daughter like his secondary consort really not own a palanquin? Or if not one of their own, would they really never have hired one when going out?
Yin Cheng noticed that, ever since his father had begun doubting his secondary consort’s identity, he’d found himself unconsciously searching for oddities about her.
And then, just as automatically, explaining them away.
For instance, his secondary consort always went out by carriage. Comparing the two, a carriage was more spacious and faster, clearly the better choice, so naturally she’d go by carriage instead. It stood to reason, then, that she might simply never have had occasion to ride a palanquin.
Shuan Erquan stamped his feet where he stood. His master had gone without sleep for days now, endlessly melting sand ore in the workshop. He’d nearly cooked himself alive from the heat, and still refused to come out and rest. Just yesterday, dozing off for a moment, he’d nearly thrown himself right into the furnace.
Fortunately, someone nearby had pulled him back in time, sparing him from disaster.
Having finally managed a full night’s sleep, his master had gone right back into the workshop again first thing this morning, scowling. Perhaps he simply couldn’t stand leaving yesterday’s unfinished batch of sand ore alone, today, it had finally paid off, and what came out actually looked something like molten iron.
Hot, glowing red. Taken out in small amounts, stretched long or short, then set aside to cool, it really did have a bit of that translucent quality to it.
Overjoyed for his master, Shuan Erquan had blurted the news out loud, and it happened to be overheard by an unremarkable-looking palace maid passing by.
And that was how he’d ended up sent here to wait for someone from the Eleventh Prince’s household to arrive.
The two palanquins slowly made their way to where Shuan Erquan stood, and two figures stepped out, one after the other.
“This servant greets the Eleventh Prince, may the Eleventh Prince live ten thousand years.”
“Rise.” Yin Cheng recognized this man from the Imperial Household Department, he’d been the one who’d come to the Northern Five Houses before.
“This is my secondary consort.” He waited until Zhao Xiaojin had stepped forward before explaining.
“Great fortune to the secondary consort.” Shuan Erquan hadn’t seen the Eleventh Prince’s secondary consort dressed so festively on his last visit, but he’d known someone had been there behind the screen.
Seeing yet another person about to kneel, Zhao Xiaojin, unable to understand any of it anyway, simply stepped to one side, ducking behind the little monk.
Shuan Erquan found this evasive little gesture from the secondary consort rather odd, but it wasn’t his place to comment, and he simply rose and led the way. His master hadn’t even mentioned that the visitor would be the Eleventh Prince in person, let alone bringing his secondary consort along too.
“Eleventh Prince, the workshop is currently melting sand ore, it’s hot and stuffy in there. Please stay close behind this servant.” He’d assumed his master had been expecting someone from the Eleventh Prince’s household, never imagining it would be the Eleventh Prince himself.
Sure enough, just as Shuan Erquan had warned, the great furnaces and kilns inside the workshop blazed with heat, the moment they stepped in, the urge to turn right back out was immediate.
Yin Cheng found the smell inside almost unbearable, nearly gagging.
“Should you wait outside for me instead?” Zhao Xiaojin noticed the little monk’s face had flushed deep red from the heat, his brow furrowed, hands clenched tight.
Yin Cheng only shook his head, he was afraid that opening his mouth would let even more of the stench in.
“If you start feeling unwell, get out right away.” Zhao Xiaojin herself felt fine.
Her school had once organized a field trip to a decorative glass workshop, which had actually been even hotter inside. Though, by comparison, the conditions here really were rather rough.
They hadn’t been inside long before Master Quan came over.
He was aware of the situation behind the scenes, and after offering his greeting, made a direct gesture inviting Zhao Xiaojin forward.
“Secondary consort, please look, this is the blowpipe we’ve just forged from iron.” Master Quan held up an iron pipe about the length of his own arm, cradled in both hands, to show her.
Zhao Xiaojin didn’t catch a word of it, though this dark-faced master spoke Mandarin too, it was nowhere near as clear as the little monk’s, let alone Ajiu’s.
This glass-blowing tool did look fairly convincing, though whether it would actually work remained to be seen.
“Have you already tried it?” She guessed this was what he was showing her.
Master Quan paused, only understanding once Ajiu explained.
“Reporting to the secondary consort, we’ve only made a rough attempt so far, it hasn’t taken proper shape yet.” He quickly turned and pointed to a few lumps set out on a nearby table.
Zhao Xiaojin walked over to look, they were fairly smooth objects, with a hint of glass-like texture, but completely lacking any transparency. These lumps looked murky and grimy, as if something impure was trapped inside.
“Could I watch how you’re making these? Ideally from start to finish.” She had a rough sense of the process already, but with nothing here readily available, they’d surely need to work things out step by step through trial and error.
Master Quan nodded and led them first to see the sand ore they were using.
Zhao Xiaojin looked over the piles, pale and washed-out in color, and picked out a few shades from memory that seemed closest to what she needed.
Then she watched as Master Quan turned right back around, sure enough, he simply spun on his heel and headed straight for the great furnace where the sand ore was being melted.
“You’re just throwing it straight in there like this?” Didn’t the sand need to be processed first?
After Zhao Xiaojin’s simple description, relayed through Ajiu’s explanation, Master Quan looked at the sand ore beside him, then at the roaring furnace ahead, and suddenly seemed to drift off into a daze.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Reporting to the secondary consort, this is an old habit of the master’s, once an idea strikes him, he loses all sense of where he even is.” Shuan Erquan explained. “Perhaps the Eleventh Prince and secondary consort should head back for now? Whenever the master gets like this, it takes quite a while.”
He certainly couldn’t risk letting the Eleventh Prince stay here any longer, if something went wrong from the heat, losing his job would be the least of it, losing his head wasn’t out of the question either.
Before leaving, Zhao Xiaojin gave Shuan Erquan a few things to relay to his master.
If the sand ore were processed more thoroughly, those lumps should come out much closer to real glass. And once the blowpipe was ready to use, after taking out the molten glass and letting it settle into a rough shape, it needed to be blown, so the mass would stretch thinner.
If the impurities in the molten glass simply couldn’t be fully removed, then it would be better to blow it thinner and larger first, and make dark-colored glass to start with. At the very least, that would give them something to build on.
“Are you all right?” Once outside the workshop, Zhao Xiaojin was the first to ask how the little monk was feeling.
He hadn’t said a word the whole time inside, he must have been suffering.
“Much better already.” The moment Yin Cheng stepped outside, he felt like he’d come back to life. That place inside really wasn’t fit for anyone to stay in for long.
His secondary consort, though, just a little girl, and yet a place like that clearly wasn’t unfamiliar to her at all.
He instinctively glanced over at Ajiu and noticed she’d caught it too, and decided not to pursue the thought any further.
Zhao Xiaojin, for her part, missed the silent exchange passing between the two of them entirely.
In her mind, she’d already started thinking about replacing the paper-covered windows with this glass first. After all, even if darker glass reduced transparency somewhat, it had the added benefit of keeping people outside from seeing in.