An autumn breeze rose, and a few large raindrops scattered down from above.

It had been sunny just moments ago, but who would have thought the weather would change so suddenly? People immediately called out: “It’s raining, it’s raining…” The crowd quickly dispersed, and Zhen Niang hurried back home at a light run.

At the Li Family Ink Shop, the rain made the air damp and chilly. Madam Zhao called Old Dao and another servant to help her light fire baskets in the backyard.

Old Master Li’s lungs weren’t good—he would cough whenever the weather turned damp and cold. As for Ugly Po, her old injuries had truly damaged her constitution, and with her advancing age, she was particularly susceptible to cold.

Thus, Madam Zhao helped Old Dao prepare two fire baskets, giving one to Ugly Po, who carried it while walking around the courtyard.

These fire baskets were unique to the Huizhou region—small baskets woven from bamboo strips, about the size of a spittoon, hollow inside, with an iron plate fashioned into a small basin placed within. Inside would be some charcoal with a lid covering the basket’s opening. The entire basket had a handle, and people would carry the burning charcoal wherever they went to keep warm. Some greedy old women would even toast flatbreads on top.

Children would put broad beans or corn kernels in the fire to roast, ending up with faces blackened with ash.

Since Ugly Po’s true identity had been revealed, she no longer swept the grounds. Moreover, Madam Zhao had a straightforward personality and always had something to chat about, so bit by bit, Ugly Po’s temperament became less cold than before. Now she carried the fire basket Madam Zhao had prepared, warming her hands while chatting with Madam Zhao under the corridor.

Naturally, they spoke of nothing but Luo Wenqian’s safety.

Seeing the rain growing heavier, Ugly Po couldn’t help asking, “Where has Zhen Niang gone? I haven’t seen her at either the ink workshop or the shop.”

“Where else would she go? She must be out gathering news about Wenqian again. Last night she was muttering about refugees from Shanxi gathering at the vegetable market—I suppose she went to inquire there today,” Madam Zhao said with concern.

“Oh.” Ugly Po nodded.

Just then, Zhen Niang came running in, her hair slightly wet.

“This girl, not even knowing to take shelter from the rain.” Madam Zhao saw Zhen Niang’s damp state and took a dry handkerchief to wipe her head.

“It’s fine, just this bit of rain. I barely got wet,” Zhen Niang said, then told Madam Zhao and Ugly Po about the Righteous Merchant of Shi Zhou.

When Madam Zhao heard this, she exclaimed, “Heavens above! Ten taels for each person saved—with over ten thousand people, that’s more than a hundred thousand taels! Where did Wenqian get so much silver?”

“Mother, don’t worry about that. I think Wenqian wasn’t the only one offering the reward. I heard Shi Zhou has many iron mines and produces excellent iron implements, so there must be many wealthy households there. At such a time, even if not for saving people, they would offer rewards for their salvation. Think about it—how would the Lüliang Mountain bandits easily trust Wenqian, an outsider, without local merchants backing him? Besides, in this world, many righteous deeds come from unexpected sources. Those Lüliang Mountain bandits might not have saved people just for the silver. Ten taels may be a lot, but it’s not worth risking one’s life for,” Zhen Niang speculated.

Earlier, when people were talking about the Righteous Merchant of Shi Zhou, Zhen Niang had thought of these points. Such a feat couldn’t have been accomplished by Luo Wenqian alone. As for the rumors, they probably arose because he had been the first to propose the idea.

“Mm, the girl makes sense,” Ugly Po nodded.

Just then, Hua’er came running in, calling out urgently, “Sister, Brother Luo Ping’an from the Luo family is here!”

Luo Ping’an? Wasn’t he the one who went to Shanxi with Luo Wenqian?

“Quick, invite him in!” Zhen Niang hurriedly told Hua’er.

“Yes!” Hua’er responded and ran out, soon returning with Luo Ping’an. He was dressed simply, covered in dust, clearly having just returned—perhaps not even having gone to Yihousheng yet.

Zhen Niang quickly had Old Dao bring tea.

Luo Ping’an didn’t stand on ceremony, drinking it down in large gulps.

“Brother Ping’an, how is Wenqian now?” Only after Luo Ping’an put down his tea bowl did Zhen Niang ask anxiously.

“He’s fine, Wenqian is with some people in the Lüliang Mountains,” Luo Ping’an quickly replied, then handed Zhen Niang a letter. It was naturally from Luo Wenqian.

Zhen Niang opened it to find just two lines: “I am safe, don’t worry. There are many matters here to discuss—I’ll explain everything in detail when I return.”

Though just two short lines, at this moment, Zhen Niang truly felt at peace.

Madam Zhao didn’t feel it appropriate to look at Luo Wenqian’s letter to Zhen Niang, but asked, “How is Wenqian?”

“He says he’s safe and not to worry,” Zhen Niang said with a smile at the corners of her mouth, carefully putting away the letter.

She then asked Luo Ping’an in detail about the reward offering. It was indeed as she had guessed—after Luo Wenqian offered the reward, merchants from Shi Zhou and surrounding areas also offered rewards. Now, not only mountain bandits but even servants from wealthy households had joined in. Although they couldn’t prevent the Tartars’ deep raids, they had protected some village fortresses from being plundered.

Afterward, Luo Ping’an took his leave, and Zhen Niang didn’t detain him—there were many matters to attend to at Yihousheng.

“Now the stone in my heart has finally dropped,” Madam Zhao let out a long sigh of relief.

Thus, the entire Li household relaxed.

By evening, Li Zhenshen had also received the news and came over, accompanied by Spring Flower’s uncle Yao Qianshan from the sixth branch. Seeing Yao Qianshan, Old Master Li asked about his provincial examination.

Yao Qianshan had always had poor luck with examinations. This time, to ensure success in the provincial exam, he had specially taken on a teacher and donated money to study at the Nanjing Imperial Academy. Given the number of successful candidates from the Imperial Academy in previous years, his chances should have been much better. Thus, Yao Qianshan had been studying at the Imperial Academy all this time, and the results had just been announced.

However, hearing Old Master Li’s question, Yao Qianshan could only smile bitterly, and even Li Zhenshen’s expression was strange—Spring Flower’s uncle’s examination luck was truly terrible.

“What happened?” Seeing their odd expressions, Old Master Li asked curiously.

“In this year’s provincial examinations for both capitals, the Imperial Academy students’ examination papers were all marked with a ‘min’ character, and very few passed—three-quarters fewer than previous years. I failed again this year,” Yao Qianshan shook his head repeatedly.

Hearing this, even Old Master Li and Zhen Niang’s expressions turned strange.

No one had expected this. As it turned out, if Yao Qianshan hadn’t entered the Imperial Academy this year, his chances of passing might have been better, though given his examination luck, it would still have been difficult.

In this era, how many brilliant talents there were, yet they simply couldn’t pass the examinations.

“It’s fine, I’ve come to terms with it. It seems I have no hope with the imperial examinations in this life. I had planned to return to Huizhou with Spring Flower to teach, but a few days ago I met Provincial Inspector Cai. He was a classmate and fellow townsman of my former employer and has always been kind to me. As it happens, he’s now inspecting criminal cases in Wuxi and other parts of Jiangsu, so he invited me to be his legal adviser. I’ll work with him for a few more years,” Yao Qianshan said self-deprecatingly.

Since he could accept it, everyone else naturally had nothing more to say. Besides, the work of a legal adviser was something Yao Qianshan was thoroughly familiar with.

Thus, early winter arrived in the blink of an eye. The weather, which should have been like a minor spring in the tenth month, was unusually cold and gloomy. By the end of the tenth month, there was even a rare snowfall of small pellets. Because of this, most ink production at the workshop had stopped—in cold weather, the ink easily cracked and dried out, though this didn’t affect the smoke workshop.

Old Master Li was still putting his heart and soul into next year’s tribute ink.

Since learning of Luo Wenqian’s safety, Zhen Niang had also thrown herself into developing next year’s tribute ink.

“Grandfather, the Four Harmonies technique of Li ink is nearly perfected. If we want to innovate beyond this, it would be extremely difficult to stay within just the Li family’s methods—we should gather the strengths of many schools. Also, Uncle Jingdong needs to put more effort into the ink molds,” Zhen Niang, her face covered in black dust, followed her grandfather as they left the ink workshop together.

“Mm, I suppose that’s right. By the way, you have the Pan ink methods, and when Wenqian returns, I have some questions about Luo ink to ask him. Then we can research together. Also, when you have time, draw more ink line diagrams for your Uncle Jingdong to reference, especially like those Buddhist relic collection ink line diagrams we sent to the Princess,” Old Master Li said, then broke into urgent coughing as a cold wind gusted in.

The tribute ink competition wasn’t just about the tribute ink itself—it was also a grand competition of ink craftsmanship. Some small ink workshops, though they might not necessarily win tribute ink rights, could still shine in the competition with one or two special ink products.

Like during the last tribute ink competition, it was because of the pine plague that small ink workshops faced survival difficulties, so most gave up. But this time would be different. It was said that the Wei family from Songjiang and the Zhu family from Jiangxi were also stirring with interest.

Although these ink workshops were now in decline, they still had some foundation—they couldn’t be underestimated.

“Yes, I know, Grandfather, but you still need to rest more,” Zhen Niang heard her grandfather’s cough and, although she knew persuasion was useless, still had to try.

“Girl, your grandfather is nearly seventy this year. Living to seventy has been rare since ancient times. Promoting the Li family ink methods has been your grandfather’s lifelong wish—if I don’t hurry, I’m afraid I won’t have much time left,” Old Master Li said somewhat wistfully.

Hearing this, Zhen Niang felt uncomfortable: “Grandfather, I don’t like hearing such talk.”

“Alright, alright, if you don’t like hearing it, your grandfather won’t say it,” Old Master Li chuckled.

Just then, a tall figure appeared at the arched entrance from the ink shop to the back courtyard—dressed in a blue robe, wearing a square headpiece, with a clear countenance and star-bright eyes. Who else could it be but Luo Wenqian?

Zhen Niang’s eyes curved slightly in happiness.

“Greetings, Old Master…” Luo Wenqian called out with a bow from afar.

“Wenqian has returned, good, good, good!” Old Master Li said “good” three times, then looked at the sky and said, “It’s nearly evening now. Wenqian, stay for dinner. Zhen Niang’s father has been drinking alone lately, quite listlessly—you should have a few cups with him.”

“I respectfully comply,” Luo Wenqian bowed again.

Old Master Li nodded with a smile and left first.