Song Shi spent several days pacing restlessly around the city, waiting for news from home. At last, a message arrived.
It was Uncle Zhao from next door, bringing Old Master Song’s words: “The Village Head says the betrothal ceremony is a major affair. He wants you to come home in person. We can’t be careless about the proper formalities.”
Song Shi was both excited and ashamed. He was excited because he could finally return home and see Fang Wan openly and properly. He was ashamed because he had been so busying himself at the shop that he had never thought of this—his father had considered everything much more thoroughly.
He hurried to Shopkeeper Liu to ask for leave. After being pestered by Song Shi for several days, Shopkeeper Liu had long since lost the energy to object. He waved a hand. “Go, go. Just don’t take too long.”
Song Shi was about to turn and leave when he suddenly stopped.
“Shopkeeper, I also wanted to… retrieve the things I’ve been keeping with you.”
Shopkeeper Liu paused. He raised his eyes, removed his reading glasses, and leaned back against his chair, wearing an expression that was almost a smile. “What? In such a hurry to go home for the betrothal ceremony that you’re taking out your entire family fortune?”
Song Shi scratched his head and gave a sheepish chuckle.
“Go on, go on. I’ve kept your little bit of property safe for you.” Shopkeeper Liu rose and pulled a small bundle from the iron cabinet behind him, setting it on the table.
When the bundle was untied, there were not many things inside, but every one of them had been accumulated bit by bit by Song Shi over the years: a gold thumb ring of excellent purity, which the Master had rewarded him with the year before last when Song Shi had helped the shop select materials for renewing a major client’s business; a jade pendant with a fine luster, which the shopkeeper had given him as a year-end reward one year; two pieces of gold, neither large but both pure gold, which he had bought with his own savings; and a small packet of pieces of silver, roughly fifty liang in all, made up of rewards from satisfied clients and the money he had saved by living frugally over the years.
Shopkeeper Liu looked at the pile and smiled. “You’ve followed me for five or six years. It wasn’t easy to save up this little bit of property. Now that you’re starting a family, it’s time to take it out and use it.”
Song Shi’s heart warmed. He was just about to wrap the bundle back up when Shopkeeper Liu suddenly reached out and pressed it down.
“Wait.”
Song Shi froze.
Shopkeeper Liu felt around in the cabinet beneath him, pulled out a small brocade box, and casually handed it to him. “Take this, too. Add it to the betrothal gifts.”
Song Shi opened the brocade box. Inside lay a gold hairpin. The head of the pin was shaped like a lotus, its layered petals exquisitely crafted. The pin itself was solid red gold, heavy in the hand. Anyone could see that it was worth a great deal of silver—at the very least, ten or twenty taels.
“Shopkeeper, this is far too valuable…” Song Shi waved his hands repeatedly.
Shopkeeper Liu waved him off, unconcerned. “What’s so valuable about it? You know perfectly well how much the Master’s shops bring in each year. I’ve worked for the Master for decades—what is a little thing like this? All these years, you’ve run around at my beck and call, bringing tea and pouring water. I’ve seen it all. Take it. Don’t let the girl think the shop’s young fellow is too shabby.”
Song Shi’s nose stung, and his eyes reddened.
He knew that Shopkeeper Liu was not short of money. The Lu family’s business was enormous, and Shopkeeper Liu had worked there for more than twenty years. He had long since accumulated a substantial fortune of his own. A gold hairpin truly was nothing to him. But Song Shi would remember the thought behind it for the rest of his life.
“Shopkeeper, I…” Song Shi’s voice was a little hoarse.
“Enough nonsense. Take it.” Shopkeeper Liu turned away, put his reading glasses back on, picked up his abacus, and began clicking away at it without looking up. “Hurry home. Don’t delay the important business. Once you’re married, live a good life together. Nothing is more important than that.”
Song Shi bowed deeply, tucked the bundle and the brocade box into his robes, and strode out the door.
That very afternoon, he drove his horse cart toward the village.
By the time he arrived home, it was already growing dark.
Old Master Song was sitting in the main room drinking tea. When he saw his son return, he set down his teacup and spoke unhurriedly. “You’re back?”
“Father, I’m back.” Song Shi wiped away his sweat and sat down opposite him.
Old Master Song did not beat around the bush. He went straight to the matter at hand. “I had your mother prepare a set of betrothal gifts. A pair of silver bracelets, two bolts of silk, four boxes of pastries, and a pair of live geese. That’s the custom. We can’t have anything missing.”
Song Shi nodded. He untied the bundle in his robes and laid out the items on the table one by one.
Old Master Song’s brows shifted slightly when he saw them.
“You saved all this up at the shop?”
“Yes.” Song Shi also took out the brocade box Shopkeeper Liu had given him. “This is the shopkeeper’s wedding gift—a gold hairpin.”
Mother Song, who was beside them, craned her neck to look. At first, she said nothing, but when she got a clear look at the two gold rings and the gold hairpin, her expression changed.
“Shi-ge’er, how much silver did all this cost?” Her voice immediately turned shrill. “How much do you earn in a month? You’ve poured all your savings into this? That gold hairpin must have cost at least ten or twenty taels, right? And those gold rings—why did you buy them? Does that girl from the Fang Household even need to wear gold rings?”
Song Shi’s smile stiffened slightly under his mother’s barrage.
Old Master Song set down his teacup and looked up at his wife. His tone was not severe, but it carried an indisputable authority. “Shut your mouth.”
“I—” Mother Song protested indignantly. “Old man, am I wrong? The set we prepared is already presentable enough. If we pour all our savings into it, how are we supposed to live afterward?”
Old Master Song brought his teacup down on the table with a thump, his voice turning heavy. “What do you understand? The betrothal ceremony is a major affair. The more substantial the gifts, the more the other family will feel that we value this marriage. Shi-ge’er is willing to do it—that is his sincerity. He’s taking a wife. Whose silver should he spend if not his own? Is he supposed to save it to sire offspring?”
Mother Song was left speechless, her face flushing red. Her lips trembled a few times, and she still wanted to argue.
Old Master Song glared at her. “If you can’t bear to part with it, then make up the difference for Shi-ge’er out of your private savings. The daughter of Scholar Fang—is she not worthy of these few things?”
Mother Song fell completely silent.
What private savings did she have? And even if she had any, she would not dare argue with the old man. She turned her head away gloomily and stopped looking at the things on the table, muttering something too indistinct for anyone to make out.
Only then did Old Master Song turn back and look at Song Shi. “She’s your wife. Add whatever you want. Just don’t let us lose face.”
Song Shi’s heart relaxed, and he nodded quickly. “Father, I’ve already thought it through. We’ll put all these things into the betrothal gifts as well. It’ll look respectable to the Fang Household.”
Old Master Song grunted, picked up his teacup, and continued drinking.
Mother Song sat to one side, her expression still unpleasant, but in the end, she did not say anything more.
Song Shi carefully gathered the items and spent the night arranging them in a red-lacquered wooden box.
Early the next morning, Song Shi changed into a clean indigo straight robe. He combed his hair until not a strand was out of place, then loaded the red-lacquered wooden box, silk, tea, wine, and live geese onto the horse cart one item at a time. Old Master Song inspected everything. Only after deciding that it looked presentable did he nod.
“When you reach the Fang Household, mind your manners,” Old Master Song instructed him. “When you see Mrs. Fang, call her Auntie. When you see Little Wan, call her Miss Fang. Be thorough with the formalities.”
“I know, Father.” Song Shi raised the whip, and the horse cart set off toward the Fang Household.