Xiao Yunzhu ordered the servants to close the courtyard gates and finally enjoyed a comfortable, orchid-scented bath.
Today had truly been exhausting.
Lying in the cedarwood tub, her mind still turned over the matter of Xiao Ruqiong and Xu Hengce.
Xu Hengce was, after all, one of the capital’s most famous noble sons. The great scholar Mu Zizhang admired him greatly, once praising him as extraordinary—like orchids and jade trees growing by the steps, or like pure snow and frost upon the mountaintop.
His grandaunt, Princess Dowager Hui, had once raised the current Emperor. Because of this, the Emperor favored the Xu family, granting Xu Hengce the privilege of serving at court and relying on him considerably.
Among the younger generation of noble families in the capital, he was a true standout. At the time of their betrothal, Xiao Ruqiong was proud of him, often speaking of him. But once she leveraged her connections with the Xue family to befriend princes and princesses, she mentioned him less and less.
Half a year ago, Xu Hengce was sent south by imperial command to procure rare stones. He encountered a flash flood—his life was saved, but his waist and legs were crushed, leaving him gravely injured. The imperial physicians declared he would never stand again.
Xiao Ruqiong personally drew designs and had craftsmen build a sturdy yet lightweight wheelchair for him. She even declared that even if he were truly crippled, she would never abandon him.
When this spread, people praised her steadfastness and virtue.
But Xiao Yunzhu knew her Fourth Sister’s heart was no longer with Xu Hengce. Even if his legs had not been injured, the marriage might not have lasted.
Her Fourth Sister’s ambitions were high—she likely aspired not to be a noble heir’s wife, but a prince’s consort. So how would Xiao Ruqiong rid herself of Xu Hengce?
Xiao Yunzhu was curious. She had to admit, though she had studied Xiao Ruqiong for years, in her heart, Xiao Ruqiong remained a mystery.
The more she studied, the more she found Xiao Ruqiong both very mysterious and very contradictory.
For example, Xiao Ruqiong disliked studying, even saying books gave her headaches. Yet her knowledge was vast—she could speak fluently on astronomy, geography, medicine, divination, and astrology. Her insights into worldly affairs were sharp, and she often expressed novel ideas that greatly inspired Xiao Yunzhu.
But knowing her temperament and daily behavior, those words seemed far too profound—almost impossible to believe they came from her.
Another example: Xiao Yunzhu did not think Xiao Ruqiong had literary talent. Yet she could casually recite exquisite verses, such as:
“Life would be bliss if only as at first sight; why must autumn winds bring sorrow to painted fans? So easily hearts of old friends change, and yet they say hearts are quick to change.” (this is a poetry from Nalan Xingde)
And:
“Clinging fast to the green mountain, never letting go. Rooted deep within the broken rock. Through countless trials and blows, still firm and strong, no matter the winds from east, west, south, or north.” (classical Chinese quatrain by Zheng Banqiao)
Whether gentle or bold, each poem was unique in style. It was well known that poetry was closely tied to the author’s life experience—just as someone who had never seen the desert could hardly capture its desolation and grandeur.
Thus, some suspected Xiao Ruqiong of using a ghostwriter and even confronted her directly. In response, she composed that earth-shaking masterpiece, *Ode to Snow* (*Qinyuan Chun · Snow*): “Northland scenery, a thousand miles sealed in ice, ten thousand miles of drifting snow…”
All doubts vanished.
For anyone capable of writing such verses could never be a mere ghostwriter.
Though unbelievable, Xiao Ruqiong truly had not faked it. She declared that this poem was her pinnacle work and that, henceforth, she would seal her pen. Anyone wishing to challenge her in poetry must first surpass this piece—otherwise, they had no qualification.
The literary circles of the capital were shaken. Many great scholars and talented youths tried to write, but none could produce anything to rival it.
Some were enthralled, proclaiming excitedly that the grandeur and heroic spirit of this poem surpassed many masters of the Tang and Song, unmatched in past or future.
Xiao Yunzhu was deeply impressed as well. Before this, she had even wondered if Xiao Ruqiong was possessed by some spirit or demon. But afterward, she no longer thought so—for no spirit or demon could write such lines. Nor could any of the great poets of the past.
Xiao Ruqiong explained that certain places in her poems she had never visited, certain experiences she had never lived. But imagination was boundless—Zhuangzi had never been to the Northern Sea, yet he could still write of the great Kunpeng bird.
Xiao Yunzhu listened, utterly captivated. Yes, that was exactly right!
The strength of the body was limited, but the heart and spirit were the most powerful!
For several days, Xiao Yunzhu nearly let go of her prejudice against Ruqiong. Unfortunately, not long after, she again witnessed Xiao Ruqiong’s vulgar and base side, leaving her bitterly disappointed.
From then on, she learned to separate Xiao Ruqiong’s works and words from Xiao Ruqiong herself.
The next morning, Madam Qi delivered a banknote of six hundred taels, said to be sent by Manager Li of Guangmao Pavilion.
To receive income so early in the day put Xiao Yunzhu in excellent spirits. She ordered Lü Mei and Qing Zhi to bring out a box of money and reward all the servants of Cangyu Courtyard.
Everyone rejoiced, bowing and thanking her profusely.
Lü Mei played the “red face,” smiling: “Serve well, and Miss will never treat you poorly.”
Qing Zhi played the “black face,” sternly: “If you dare betray your mistress, beware your skin!”
Xiao Yunzhu felt her maids were increasingly showing the bearing of proper senior attendants, and she was very satisfied—she rewarded each with a gold hairpin.
Guangmao Pavilion was something she had modeled after Xiao Ruqiong’s venture.
Xiao Ruqiong was extremely enthusiastic about commerce, persuading her parents to open the Yunlai Teahouse. The tea and pastries there were ordinary, even overpriced, yet business was initially booming.
Why? Because the stories told at Yunlai Teahouse were astonishingly novel.
Xiao Ruqiong had a belly full of tales, which she passed to storytellers, who polished them before performing. This drew crowds from all over the capital. One *Journey to the West* left countless people so enthralled they forgot food and sleep.
Xiao Yunzhu herself was captivated, listening to the entire saga and still wanting more. So she picked up her pen and wrote *Journey to the North*, continuing the adventures of Tang Monk and his disciples after their pilgrimage to the West. From then on, she couldn’t stop.
When Xiao Ruqiong launched *Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils*, she wrote *Cranes Dancing in Nine Heavens*.
When Xiao Ruqiong launched *The Ghost Bride*, she wrote *The Resentful Lady Lan Niang*.
For this, she even opened Guangmao Pavilion, specifically to rival Yunlai Teahouse.
In fact, many other teahouses copied Yunlai’s model. But Xiao Yunzhu had both resources and talent, so hers became the most successful.
Xiao Ruqiong raged at home, calling it plagiarism, but she was helpless. The laws of Great Qi did not forbid one teahouse from telling similar stories as another. She couldn’t even discover who was behind Guangmao Pavilion.
About half a year later, Yunlai Teahouse was shut down by the authorities.
But it wasn’t Xiao Yunzhu’s doing.
She couldn’t fathom what Xiao Ruqiong had been thinking—daring to tell, right under the Emperor’s nose, a story of killing officials, rebelling, and coercing the Emperor, under the title *Water Margin*.
Fortunately, Xiao Ruqiong was clever enough not to put her own name on Yunlai Teahouse, but that of her musician friend. Even so, Second Uncle Xiao Hui had to spend a large sum to smooth things over, preventing the scandal from implicating the family. And where did that money come from? From Yunlai Teahouse’s profits.
As for Xiao Ruqiong’s musician friend, she was exiled to Lingnan by the authorities—her fate unknown.