【Chapter Nineteen: Deep Courtyard, Light Jealousy, Long-lasting Affection】
Pei Yanshu merely smiled at her, pointing to his own swollen cheek. “Manager Shen, look at this face of mine. Today, it shielded you from disaster and upheld the dignity of both families by accepting this status. By reason and sentiment… shouldn’t you treat me a little better?”
“You—” Shen Nianyi raised her hand in anger, but upon seeing the red marks on his face, she couldn’t bring herself to strike him again.
Pei Yanshu chuckled and took a step back. “What? Is Manager Shen feeling sorry for me?”
“Sorry for you, my—” Shen Nianyi’s harsh words caught in her throat. She glanced around and spotted the feather duster on the counter. Snatching it up, she pointed it at him. “I’ll go find you the best golden wound medicine right now! Let you feel the pain properly!”
Watching the two of them—one chasing, the other dodging—Madam Wang and Auntie Liu, standing nearby, exchanged a knowing glance.
Auntie Liu excitedly grabbed Madam Wang’s arm, her lowered voice trembling. “Did you hear that? What Young Master Pei just said… isn’t that… isn’t that an acknowledgment?”
Madam Wang gazed at Pei Yanshu, who was still fending off the feather duster, her eyes filled with admiration. “I used to think this Young Master Pei was unreliable, but now it seems he has a sense of responsibility!”
“Exactly!” Auntie Liu slapped her thigh, her smile nearly overflowing. “Look at him, daring to stand up to his own sister-in-law just to protect our Nianyi. What do you call that? That’s called ‘a man’s fury for his beloved’!”
Madam Wang leaned closer to Auntie Liu, whispering excitedly, “I think, at this rate, it won’t be long before we have to prepare red envelopes and attend a wedding banquet!”
Auntie Liu’s eyes lit up. “I must hurry to Ruifuxiang to see if there’s any good fabric. I need to prepare a dowry gift for Nianyi in advance! We’ll have to visit this Cloud Silk Atelier often from now on! Today’s show was worth it! Absolutely worth it!”
The two ladies took one more satisfied look at the quarreling pair before linking arms, chatting and smiling as they left the Cloud Silk Atelier.
Only then did the shop assistants, who had been hiding behind the shelves holding their breath, dare to peek out.
“My goodness…” Da Chun finally found his voice. “Madam Wang and Auntie Liu… they actually believe it?”
A Man snapped back to reality. “Didn’t you hear what Young Master Pei said just now? How is that any different from proposing on the spot?”
She turned excitedly to Xiao Ya. “Xiao Ya, did you see? Our manager might be getting married soon!”
Xiao Ya blinked, a look of sudden understanding slowly spreading across his face, then nodded vigorously and began gesturing—first mimicking a wedding ceremony, then pointing toward the backyard, and finally pressing his palms together against his cheek, making a sleeping motion.
“Pfft—” A Man understood his meaning and burst into laughter, nearly doubling over. “Xiao Ya, you’ve learned to be naughty too! But if this marriage really happens, should we start calling Young Master Pei ‘boss’?”
Da Chun, listening nearby, rubbed his hands together sheepishly. “I… I want a wife too…”
As soon as he said this, A Man was stunned for a moment before laughing even louder, almost out of breath. “You silly Da Chun! What are you joining in for? First, fix your habit of dropping the measuring ruler all the time! What girl would dare marry someone as clumsy as you?”
Xiao Ya was also amused and took a piece of malt candy from her pocket to hand to him, as if to comfort him.
While the three were chatting and laughing, Shen Nianyi’s scolding and Pei Yanshu’s laughter echoed from the backyard again. The shop assistants exchanged knowing smiles and went about their tasks.
In the backyard, Shen Nianyi held a feather duster, her cheeks flushed with anger. “Pei Yanshu! Stop right there!”
Pei Yanshu chuckled and nimbly dodged under the grape trellis. Seeing Shen Nianyi relentlessly pursuing him, he suddenly turned, stretched out his long arm, and precisely grasped her wrist as she swung at him. With a gentle pull, he drew her closer.
Caught off guard, Shen Nianyi found her movements restrained. She struggled in embarrassment and annoyance, but her wrist was held even tighter.
“Enough,” Pei Yanshu lowered his head, his voice unusually devoid of its usual teasing, carrying a deep seriousness as it sounded in her ear. “Let’s talk business. For the tea gathering at the Weaving Bureau the day after tomorrow, what do you plan to use to seal the deal?”
Shen Nianyi forcefully pulled her hand back and shot him an annoyed glare. “Buddha’s Hand Gold and Rain-Cleared Sky Blue are the foundation, of course we’ll bring them. What, does Manager Pei think they’re not impressive enough?”
“They’re impressive enough, but they lack a memorable highlight.” He glanced toward the dyeing workshop. “Bring that roll of Cloud-Dream Neon-Glow Brocade too.”
Shen Nianyi was almost amused by her anger. “Are you deliberately trying to embarrass me? The ink stain on it…”
“Don’t rush.” Pei Yanshu produced a small porcelain bottle from somewhere, casually tossing it in his hand. “Ink-Gold, acquired from a Western merchant, mixed with pearl powder. It looks like ink when applied, but under light, it glows with a golden halo.”
He raised an eyebrow with a smile. “When the time comes, we’ll say… this is the newly developed ‘Ink Rhythm Births Gold’ brocade, specially prepared for discerning nobles.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Shen Nianyi’s feather duster landed with a “thwack” on his calf.
“Ouch!” Pei Yanshu winced in pain and dodged to the side. “Manager Shen, I’m discussing serious strategy here! Why are you resorting to violence?”
“I think you’re just trying to distract me with all this nonsense to avoid the real issue!” Shen Nianyi raised the duster, refusing to let it go. “We haven’t settled the matter of your earlier nonsense!”
Pei Yanshu dodged while laughing. “I was clearly helping you out of a tight spot. Besides…” He suddenly stopped and turned to meet her furious gaze. “Did you hear what Auntie Liu and the others were saying earlier?”
Shen Nianyi’s hand, holding the duster, paused slightly, and the tips of her ears turned red. “Hear what? Just some idle gossip…”
“Oh?” Pei Yanshu took a step closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Manager Shen didn’t hear the talk about the share of money or the wedding gifts either?”
“You!” Shen Nianyi flushed with anger and embarrassment, raising the duster again, but he gently grasped her wrist.
“If the tea gathering the day after tomorrow succeeds,” Pei Yanshu looked into her eyes, his voice carrying a rare seriousness, “this idle gossip might just become a prophecy.”
Shen Nianyi was momentarily stunned, forgetting to break free.
By the time she regained her senses, Pei Yanshu had already taken the small porcelain bottle and leisurely walked toward the dyeing workshop. “Aren’t you coming? If we delay any longer, we really will become a laughingstock in front of the nobles the day after tomorrow.”
Shen Nianyi watched his retreating figure, then looked down at her wrist, which he had just held. She let out a soft “hmph” and finally followed him.
As dusk deepened, lanterns were lit in the rear courtyard of Cloud Silk Atelier, casting the silhouettes of two figures—sometimes arguing, sometimes collaborating—onto the window paper until late into the night.
In the blink of an eye, the day of the Weaving Bureau tea gathering arrived.
Outside Cloud Silk Atelier, the morning light was just right. A Man was adjusting Shen Nianyi’s already immaculate collar, while Da Chun huffed and puffed as he carried several carefully wrapped bolts of fabric to the carriage. Xiao Ya silently handed a box of tools to Shen Nianyi.
“Don’t worry, shopkeeper,” A Man patted her chest confidently. “We’ll keep an eye on the shop—not even a fly will get in to cause trouble!”
Da Chun nodded emphatically. “I’ll polish the counter till it shines!”
Seeing these two lively characters eased some of the tension in Shen Nianyi’s heart. Finally, she boarded the carriage with Pei Yanshu and departed.
The carriage wheels rumbled as they headed toward the Weaving Bureau’s eastern city villa.
At the entrance to the villa, the road was already lined with elegant carriages and fine horses.
Gathered here were proprietors of various silk and satin firms and renowned weaving masters from across the land, all dressed in wide sleeves and flowing robes, moving with ease. Their polite greetings and cheerful smiles exuded an air of refined elegance.
As soon as Shen Nianyi and Pei Yanshu stepped down from the carriage, before they could even steady themselves, the low murmurs around them—like a disturbed swarm of bees—drifted over, intentionally or not. All eyes turned toward the pair, or more precisely, toward Pei Yanshu.
“Look at that gentleman’s collar… such a large ink stain!”
“At an occasion like this, and he didn’t change his clothes? How careless… which establishment is he from?”
“I heard he’s the one from the Silk Competition…”
“Oh? The one who… ahem, in public? Truly… unconventional.”
Listening to these remarks, Shen Nianyi felt her cheeks grow warm. She whispered through gritted teeth, “Pei Yanshu, did you really have to insist on wearing this outfit?”
Pei Yanshu was clad in an indigo half-sleeved robe, beneath which a moon-white inner robe bore a glaring, conspicuous ink stain, almost defiantly on display.
He seemed utterly oblivious to the surrounding gazes—whether astonished, disdainful, or curious. Far from feeling embarrassed, he flicked open his folding fan with a flourish and fanned himself leisurely, as if the whispers and pointed looks were nothing more than a gentle breeze.
Turning his head, he raised an eyebrow at Shen Nianyi and grinned. “This robe is proof of my connection to Cloud Silk Atelier. On such an important occasion, of course I must wear it.”
Shen Nianyi stared at the ostentatious ink stain, feeling a vein throb at her temple. She gritted her teeth and whispered, “Fine, even if you insist on wearing it… could you at least fasten that half-sleeved robe properly?”
Instead of complying, Pei Yanshu tugged it open even wider, explaining with conviction, “You don’t understand. It has to be like this… hinting at something, leaving room for mystery.”
Shen Nianyi took a deep breath and resolutely took two steps to the side. “Pei Yanshu, right now, I just want to pretend I don’t know you.”
“How can that be?” Pei Yanshu tapped her shoulder lightly with his fan, pulling her back to his side. “Without you, the leading lady of this play, the performance would be incomplete.”
As they bickered quietly, they reached the entrance of the villa.
The steward in charge of welcoming guests was announcing the gifts from each family:
“From the Li Manor of Jiangnan Weaving—a scroll of the former dynasty’s ‘River Sails and Tower Pavilion Painting’—”
“From Su’s of Brocade Official City in Shu—a pair of mutton-fat jade ruyi scepters—”
“From the Jinling Brocade Pavilion, presenting one potted landscape of the Eight Immortals Celebrating Longevity—”
Listening to the increasingly extravagant gifts being announced, Shen Nianyi’s expression changed. She grabbed Pei Yanshu’s sleeve, her voice strained with urgency: “Oh no! Pei Yanshu! Why didn’t you mention earlier that we needed to prepare a gift? Now we’ve come empty-handed—how embarrassing!”
While she was as frantic as an ant on a hot pan, Pei Yanshu remained as carefree as ever, even taking a moment to appreciate her rare look of panic.
Just then, the steward in charge of greeting guests turned to them, wearing an impeccable smile. His gaze swept over their empty hands, yet his tone remained polite: “Honored proprietors, please present your invitation. May I ask… what token of esteem have you prepared for Elder Liu?”
Pei Yanshu unhurriedly took out the invitation from the Weaving Bureau from his robe and handed it over.
“As for the token,” he drawled, then produced a coarse clay jar from his sleeve.
With a soft “pop,” the lid was opened, releasing a pungent, sour aroma—it was a jar full of golden, crisp pickled radish, sprinkled with bright red chili flakes.
“Elder Liu has been craving this homely dish to go with his rice lately,” Pei Yanshu said, placing the jar on the gift table and winking at the stunned steward. “Take it quickly, and tell him Pei the Sixth specially sought out the ancestral recipe from the old vinegar shop in the West Market.”
For a moment, silence fell within a several-zhang radius centered around Pei Yanshu and Shen Nianyi.
The guests holding precious treasures wore varied expressions—some were dumbfounded, some sneered, while most struggled to suppress their laughter.
Shen Nianyi felt her face burn, wishing she could transform into that jar of pickles and be carried away by the steward.
The steward’s facial muscles twitched a few times; clearly, he had never encountered such a situation.
He glanced at the coarse clay jar, then at Pei Yanshu’s unruffled expression. Finally, under the silent stares of those around, he had no choice but to steel himself and announce:
“Clo… Cloud Silk Atelier… presents… one jar of pickled vegetables—”
This announcement was like a stone thrown into calm water, immediately provoking a wave of barely suppressed snickers from the crowd.
Shen Nianyi closed her eyes in despair, tugging at Pei Yanshu’s sleeve as they fled into the courtyard’s flower hall.
Inside the flower hall, elegantly and spaciously arranged, many guests who had arrived earlier were already seated, gathered in small groups, chatting softly and smiling.
They were led to seats toward the back. Shen Nianyi sat as if on pins and needles, wishing she could hide herself away.
She secretly glanced toward the seat of honor. Elder Liu, dressed in a simple gray robe, had white hair and beard, a ruddy complexion, and appeared spirited and vigorous. He was speaking quietly with an official-looking man beside him, his demeanor calm and showing no sign of displeasure.
At the very least, Elder Liu didn’t seem like someone who would immediately slam the table and order them—along with that jar of pickles—to be thrown out.