Zhao Jingyu grew more resentful the longer he thought about it. If the silver could pass through his hands before being presented, the credit would fall to him — and hadn’t the Office of Seven Lodges accumulated enough great and small merits over the years? None of it ever seemed to yield any tangible benefit. Better for him to claim something concrete.
True to the shameless ways of officialdom, the magistrate took a step closer and said with an ingratiating smile, “First Young Miss has labored for several days. Why not take your leave first? I will have men help load the silver onto the ship and catch up with you shortly.”
“There is no need for Magistrate Zhao to trouble himself.” Hua Zhi toyed with the official seal with unhurried ease and continued, “Besides the silver, I will also be taking Magistrate Zhu and Archivist Xu from the records office.”
Having already been rebuffed several times, Zhao Jingyu had no intention of letting her have her way again. He said at once, “Magistrate Zhu serves as Jinyang’s deputy magistrate. Even if he has committed some offense, it falls to me as his superior to deal with it. The records office likewise falls under Jinyang’s jurisdiction. The Office of Seven Lodges may wield tremendous authority, yet there is no reason to take someone away right in front of me, his superior.”
“I was merely informing Magistrate Zhao, not consulting him.” Hua Zhi pulled her cloak tighter around herself and brushed past him. “I am returning to the capital now. Magistrate Zhao, please do as you see fit.”
“First Young Miss, you go too far!”
Hua Zhi glanced back. “Oh? That line — should it not be mine to say?”
The meaning was plain enough, and Zhao Jingyu did not even bother to feign otherwise. In matters like this, there was no question of going too far. He spoke with perfect self-assurance: “This is the will of the Emperor. Does First Young Miss harbor some grievance against His Majesty’s decree?”
“I am acting on behalf of the Office of Seven Lodges. If Magistrate Zhao takes issue with the Office, he is welcome to submit a memorial.” Hua Zhi pushed back, neither gently nor harshly, and turned away without looking back again. “I hope Magistrate Zhao enjoys every good fortune.”
Outside, all of Jinyang’s officials had gathered. When they saw her emerge, they bowed to her in unison. Each of them may have harbored their own private interests, and at the start many had resented her and longed for her to leave — yet from the moment trouble first arose to now, they had long since understood the truth: had she not stepped forward to turn the tide, Jinyang would have descended into ruin beyond knowing. Moreover, though she had temporarily relieved them of their posts, she had not brought in anyone to fill their places — every position was left vacant, which meant that the newly appointed administrator, in order to staff his office and bestow favor, would have no choice but to reinstate them. This, perhaps, had been the path she left open for them all along.
Now she was departing as they had wished — yet this did nothing to diminish the respect they felt toward Hua Zhi.
A person of true ability causes others to forget her gender. Hua Zhi was exactly that.
Hua Zhi paused, then returned a bow with quiet grace. “I hope that all of you will work together in unity and see Jinyang restored to its former prosperity.”
“We will hold your words in our hearts, Miss.”
She boarded the carriage and lifted the curtain on the window, watching as they passed through this city that had endured such upheaval and now moved with careful, guarded steps. She did not know whether it would ever fully recover — yet as long as those who had lurked behind the scenes stirring up trouble were gone, as long as the brazen support for gambling was stripped away, life would gradually return to it little by little. And if another pillar industry could be established here to redirect people’s attention—
Her thoughts were interrupted by the rhythmic clatter of hoofbeats growing closer, drawing up alongside her carriage with a long whinny and coming to a stop. Hua Zhi recognized the rider. She rapped on the carriage walls to signal the coachman to halt, then stepped out.
Yu Weiwei dismounted, opened her mouth, and found she could say nothing.
She drew a deep breath and forced a smile. “I heard you were leaving. I came to see you off.”
“Word travels fast.” Hua Zhi studied the young woman before her. “The pressure is getting to you. You’ve grown much thinner.”
“I can still hold on.” Yu Weiwei covered her eyes for a moment, then suddenly stepped forward and leaned her head against Hua Zhi’s shoulder, choking out, “I’m with child.”
It took Hua Zhi a moment to understand what those words meant. Her first thought was immediate: “It cannot be kept.”
Yu Weiwei lifted her head. Her eyes were rimmed red and glistening with tears, every shred of vulnerability and panic laid bare before Hua Zhi.
Hua Zhi gestured for the carriage to pull to the side, then drew her inside and spoke to her gently, “Nothing else would be an obstacle — but Weiwei, you were once poisoned. No one can know how much that poison may have harmed the child. Yet if the child were born and the damage only discovered afterward, it would be too late. Rather than let the child live in suffering—”
Hua Zhi, too, found herself unable to finish. She was playing the role of executioner — yet she carried knowledge from another lifetime. She understood all too well how devastating the likely outcome could be. Even ordinary medicine was not to be taken carelessly during pregnancy, let alone a poisoning.
Yu Weiwei covered her face and laughed through her tears. “I — I wanted to keep it. I don’t mind whose blood runs in the other half of his veins. With a child, I could live out my days at his side, and never again have to take in a man just to secure an heir—”
Hua Zhi drew her close and rested her gently against her shoulder, patting her back in quiet strokes. This girl, who at their first meeting had carried herself with such free-spirited boldness and a touch of ferocity, was now suffering like this — and she was only seventeen. Yet she had been forced to grow up in a single night, and after that, she lost the right to indulge in willfulness ever again.
“The past is past. We must always look forward.”
Yu Weiwei scrubbed her face roughly with her hands and worked to steady herself. She had come to see the First Young Miss off — not to pour out her grievances. After several long, slow breaths, she finally managed to speak clearly. “My father says that when you return, the situation you will face will not be easy. Will you be at a disadvantage?”
“No. I have someone standing behind me.” Hua Zhi smiled. “And by any measure, my contribution is the greater one. Even if I am not rewarded, I will not be punished.”
“I don’t know what the capital is like, but I know you did something enormous — you helped everyone in Jinyang. Oh — I saw it in a story once, that you can write a petition signed by ten thousand common people to present to the Emperor. Would that help you? I could ask my father to reach out and get that started—”
Hua Zhi quickly stopped her. “There is no need. It hasn’t come to that. Once I return, I need only submit my account of events. Everything else will be handled by others. After all, I am only a woman — the affairs of the court are not for a woman to take the lead in.”
“You are more like an official than any of them.” Yu Weiwei muttered, then lowered her head and clasped Hua Zhi’s hand. “Remember our agreement. You must come and visit me when the chance arises.”
“I will come, without fail. And do not push yourself too hard. Even the greatest troubles are nothing in the face of time — once they pass, things will be well again.”
“Good. I’ll listen to you.” Yu Weiwei sniffled. “Can I… write to you?”
“Of course.”
While they were still speaking, more hoofbeats sounded outside and came to a stop beside the carriage. Hua Zhi looked out — it was Zeng Xianyan.
Yu Weiwei harbored a grudge against the Zeng family. She stepped down from the carriage, bid Hua Zhi farewell with a quiet “take care,” and rode away without so much as a glance in Zeng Xianyan’s direction.
Zeng Xianyan’s heart grew dim watching her go, yet he could do nothing. The two families could never return to what they had once been. He could only accept her hatred and resentment.
“This is a letter from my sister-in-law, entrusted to me for you.” He handed it over and said, “Once this matter is settled — if we can emerge unscathed — the Zeng family intends to leave Jinyang entirely.”
“Though Zeng Xiangren brought misfortune upon the Zeng family, he fought desperately to protect all of you. And the silver your family contributed this time was nearly your entire fortune. You should all come through this unharmed.”
Zeng Xianyan bowed deeply. “First Young Miss, your great kindness is beyond repayment. Xianyan thanks you on behalf of his family.”