In the early morning, between the hours of Chou and Yin (1-3 AM).

Zhenniang was awakened by her mother’s bustling sounds. Opening her eyes, she saw the oil lamp lit and her mother rummaging through boxes and cabinets.

“Mother, what are you doing so early?” Zhenniang asked with a yawn. She was particularly tired, having spent the night half-awake, haunted by Aunt Jin Hua’s sobs in her dreams.

“Packing some things for your father. The weather’s getting warm, so I’m sending him two sets of summer clothes,” Madam Zhao said while continuing her work.

“Who’s going to Suzhou?” Zhenniang asked curiously. Her nose caught the fragrant smell of douhuang guo (bean pastries), making her stomach growl immediately.

She glanced outside, seeing the kitchen’s oil lamp also lit, with Madam Du busy at the stove.

These douhuang guo were made with oil-kneaded dough wrapped around yellow beans and preserved vegetables, then fried in oil. They were common travel food for Huizhou people, lasting up to half a month in this weather.

But who was traveling?

“Mother, are we making douhuang guo again?” Xi’er asked from the upper bunk, his eyes still crusty with sleep, swallowing his saliva.

“Your Big Brother and Aunt Jin Hua are going to Suzhou soon. We’re sending things with them,” Madam Zhao said, then glared at Xi’er: “Always thinking about food. Go back to sleep—we’ll save some for you all later.”

Xi’er gave a soft “oh” and lay back down, but with the smell of Dou Huang Guo in the air, how could he sleep? He started tossing around on his bed, pretending to make pancakes, until Madam Zhao scolded him into silence.

Hearing Madam Zhao’s words, Zhenniang finally understood that Big Brother and Brother Zhengsheng would accompany Aunt Jin Hua to Suzhou to seek justice.

The outcome remained uncertain until Big Brother and the others returned from Suzhou.

Unable to sleep now, Zhenniang got up. The coal stove in the kitchen was burning, with a copper kettle full of hot water. After washing up, she heard grandfather coughing and grandmother nagging from their room, knowing the elderly couple was awake. Old people woke early, so she brought a basin of hot water to their room.

She helped her grandparents with their morning routines.

“Zhenniang, your grandmother says you don’t want to go to the ink workshop, but rather make ink at home?” Old Shopkeeper Li asked after wiping his face.

“Yes, I want to make my ink,” Zhenniang nodded.

“That’s good too. I’ve already had your grandmother organize my old ink molds, carving boards, and other ink-making tools. We’ve cleared out the room next door—you can continue making smoke in the firewood shed, and use that room as your ink workshop,” Li Jinshui said.

Zhenniang’s decision aligned with his wishes. During their recent conversations, he increasingly felt that Zhenniang had a natural talent for ink-making. For instance, from his old ink formulas, she had derived several new variations. Though some were still unrefined, several were worth trying.

For someone who had dedicated his life to ink-making, this was an irresistible attraction.

Li Jinshui wanted to see these formula variations come to life in Zhenniang’s hands, and more importantly, he valued her ink-making talent and wished to pass on his lifetime of knowledge to her in detail.

Having a successor was every craftsman’s final wish.

Of course, this was also Zhenniang’s desire. The Li ink’s reputation was renowned, but in her previous life, its disappearance meant that genuine Li ink became extinct, something that had made her grandfather sigh deeply whenever mentioned.

“Thank you, Grandfather. But won’t this affect your vow?” Zhenniang couldn’t help asking.

“You’re the one making ink, not grandfather. It’s no different from your current smoke-making,” Li Jinshui said calmly, showing he understood such flexibility.

“I understand, we all know what’s what,” Zhenniang said with a grin. Just like now, everyone thought the smoke coal she made recently was her grandfather’s work. Under her name, no one could say anything. Moreover, the smoke coal formula had helped ease relations with the main family branch, making this even less of an issue.

Grandfather had only sworn not to touch ink himself, not that he couldn’t take an apprentice. So even if grandfather made the ink under her name, everyone would understand tacitly. Besides, she would be the one making the ink, so there was certainly no problem.

Afterward, Zhenniang went to the adjacent room and organized everything: ink molds, carving boards, drying boards, pestles, mortars, and ink-making tables.

Her heart was quite excited.

After breakfast, Li Zhengsheng and Li Zhengyan from the ninth branch arrived, joining Li Zhengliang and Aunt Jin Hua. They would travel to Suzhou together, where the Second Uncle-in-law and Li Jingfu from the sixth branch would receive them.

Thus, the Li family group set out with great vigor.

Zhenniang also went out, needing to buy materials for boiling glue.

“Zhenniang, Zhenniang.” Just past the city gate, she heard Sun Yuejuan’s hushed calls. Previously, Sun Yuejuan had visited frequently, but since her mother’s marriage proposal was rejected, she hadn’t come by.

The relationship between the two families was now somewhat awkward.

“Yuejuan, what are you doing here?” Zhenniang asked, seeing her skulking in a corner.

“Shh…” Sun Yuejuan made a silencing gesture, then peered around the corner toward a small street.

Curious, Zhenniang looked too, seeing Sun Yuejuan’s elder brother Sun Baiyi standing at someone’s doorway, talking to someone inside. It was a woman, showing half her face, quite beautiful.

“Is that your future sister-in-law?” Zhenniang asked with a smile.

“Pah, pah, pah! What future sister-in-law? She’s a shameless woman, a half-closed door,” Sun Yuejuan said with a red face and irritation.

“Half-closed door” meant a private courtesan.

Now Zhenniang understood—Sun Yuejuan’s mother must have sent her to keep watch.

By now, Sun Baiyi had left through the other end of the alley.

“I have to go, my mother’s waiting. I’ll come visit you in a few days,” Sun Yuejuan said hurriedly.

“Alright,” Zhenniang nodded, watching Sun Yuejuan dash away.

The Sun family’s affairs weren’t her concern, so she went to the medicine hall, buying some spices, along with Qin bark, horsetail grass, and angelica. These could be used to make medicinal ink, though that required hundred-year pine soot rather than oil smoke.

She also planned to make another type of medicinal ink—the Eight Treasures Five Gallbladder ink. When Empress Dowager Cixi fled west, she suffered from back sores and used ink made from this. This Eight Treasures Five Gallbladder ink was considered one of China’s three great miracle medicines.

Unfortunately, the materials for this medicinal ink were too expensive for Zhenniang now; she would have to wait.

Next, she went to Four Treasures Street to buy cow glue for ink-making. Just as she was about to head home, passing a corner, she heard an “Ouch!” and a “thump” behind her.

Turning around, she saw young master Luo Wenqian of the Luo family holding his head, rubbing the back of it while angrily addressing a middle-aged woman holding a wooden stick: “Woman, how dare you strike people at random?”

The woman was around forty, wearing old clothes with patches, her face sickly pale.

“You scoundrel, secretly following a young lady with ill intentions,” the woman said, seemingly timid but forcing herself to stand firm.

…