Lin Sui’an found herself dreadfully bored. Fangke had shut himself in his room, busying himself with his array of bottles and jars — the technical bar far too high for anyone to assist him. She was half-antisocial at the best of times, so tagging along with Jin Ruo to roam the streets gathering intelligence would only be a hindrance. She certainly had no nerve to join Mu Xia in chatting up the neighbors for gossip. Yita was out strolling with Xiao Yu, and she naturally could not go along and play the third wheel. Hua Yitang had finally received his long-awaited interview opportunity at Xiande Manor and had set out early after dressing himself up —

Oh, what a fate. Lin Sui’an, who had the highest combat capability of them all, found herself with absolutely nothing to do. She sat alone in the empty clinic watching the rain, sipping tea, and swatting flies. After her one hundred and thirty-sixth yawn, Lin Sui’an decided she could not go on being this idle. She had to find herself something to do, or her bones would rust from disuse.

Arrangements had been made for both the Longshen Temple and Xiande Manor — but the third great power of Cheng County, the Simian Manor of the Zhu family, had yet to be investigated. While Hua Yitang and Jin Ruo had both said that Simian Manor’s influence had diminished greatly over recent years, and that it was being suppressed by the Longshen Temple to the point of having little connection with Xuanming Shanren, Lin Sui’an felt that Simian Manor was, after all, a local power with considerable roots in this county. It would surely have a thorough understanding of the Longshen Temple and Xiande Manor — and might prove a useful point of entry.

Best of all: they had a connection to the Zhu family.

And so Lin Sui’an closed up the clinic, bought two packages of mid-grade Hundred Flowers Tea from the neighboring teahouse, opened her umbrella, and meandered her way over to the county office in the facing district — intending to pay a visit to an old acquaintance and have a casual chat.

In the Tang Kingdom, going to work at the government office was called “attending affairs.” At local offices, the workday began when the sun rose — around the first quarter past the Hour of the Hare — and ended at noon, leaving the afternoon free. Officials worked only a half day, living rather comfortable and leisurely lives. (The first time Lin Sui’an heard about these working hours from Fangke, she was practically green with envy.)

On top of that, a “decadal rest” system was in place: officials worked nine days and rested on the tenth. While this was not quite as generous as the modern five-day work week, there were also all manner of public holidays.

The New Year and Winter Solstice each granted seven days off; the Cold Food Festival, that is, Qingming, granted four days; Mid-Autumn Festival, Summer Solstice, and the twelfth month each granted three days; the Lantern Festival on the fifteenth of the first month, the third day of the third month, the eighth day of the fourth month, the fifth day of the fifth month, the seventh day of the seventh month, the ninth day of the ninth month, and the first of the tenth month all had holidays; the Beginning of Spring, Spring Equinox, Beginning of Autumn, Autumnal Equinox, Beginning of Summer, and Beginning of Winter each granted one day off. The fifth month had a planting break, and the ninth month had two periods of holiday for distributing winter clothing — each fifteen days long. When tallied up in full, the public holidays alone amounted to seventy-seven days.

Officials still had to leave someone on duty during decadal rest days and public holidays — Ling Zhiyan had practically become a permanent fixture on the duty roster at the Court of Judicial Review, a self-proclaimed workaholic — and each day, an official also had to remain on duty for the afternoon and evening shifts, a practice called “overnight watch.”

In most government offices, the overnight watch duty rotated among the county magistrate, the registrar, and the county deputy. But the county magistrate of Cheng County, one Qiu Liang, was perpetually on sick leave, and the county deputy Hua Yitang had yet to officially take office — so the full burden of overnight watch fell squarely on the shoulders of the registrar Zhu Dachang: morning, afternoon, and night shifts in unbroken succession, not a single decadal rest or public holiday to be had. The word “miserable” did not begin to cover it.

Especially after the major security incident of “the burning of the Longshen Temple,” Zhu Dachang had grown even more anxious and vigilant, not daring to slacken for a single moment. He had simply moved into the county office to live.

Today happened to be a decadal rest day. The county office was nearly deserted; the constable on duty at the gate was stifling yawn after yawn. Lin Sui’an greeted him, and once the constable recognized Lin Sui’an as the protagonist of the recent gossip sensation — “Fang An” — he let her pass.

It was safe to say that the tale of the renowned eastern-capital physician Fangke and his connection to Registrar Zhu was now common knowledge throughout the city.

Lin Sui’an made her way unobstructed through the front office and into the back quarters. She had just stepped through a side gate when she spotted Li Nili crouching by the entrance to a courtyard, backside raised, neck craned out as far as it would go, eyes bulging as wide as they could manage — looking for all the world like a frog eavesdropping. He was so absorbed that he had not even noticed his clothes being soaked through by the rain.

Lin Sui’an was deeply curious. She wandered over, stood behind Li Nili, and craned her own neck to peer into the courtyard — while also holding her umbrella up over Li Nili to keep the rain off him.

The courtyard was arranged with considerable taste: lush, well-spaced plantings, a covered walkway on either side leading to the side rooms, the main chamber positioned to the south, the open central space paved with smooth white river stones. In several places, likely from long disrepair, puddles had collected. The three side rooms were connected by a roofed gallery — covered and tiled — making it easy to pass between them without needing shelter, a very practical feature in rain-heavy Qingzhou. The building foundations were all quite high, with flooring that extended from inside the rooms outward to form a raised veranda.

On the veranda stood a small table and two round cushions. Two people sat, one on either side, formally kneeling in a composed posture, facing the rain-soaked view of the courtyard. On the table were arranged a wind brazier, a tea kettle, tea cups, a tea ladle, a tea grinder, a tea sieve, and more — the water in the kettle was at a full rolling boil, bubbling and gurgling.

Zhu Dachang was dressed today in a clean, long robe, wearing a black folded-wing cap. The other person was a woman in a brown-sleeved jacket, a crimson shawl over her shoulders, a pomegranate-colored skirt belted high at the waist — making her figure look willowy and tall. As for her face, Lin Sui’an could not quite make it out at this distance: white powder, dark brows, floral patches of face-paint at her forehead, corners of her eyes, and cheeks, a small dot of red at the lips — altogether quite delicate.

The woman wore a faint smile, glancing over at Zhu Dachang from time to time. Zhu Dachang stared straight ahead, body rigid, repeatedly wiping away sweat — visibly and thoroughly ill at ease.

Lin Sui’an nearly laughed out loud. “Surely this isn’t Registrar Zhu’s —”

Blind date?

Li Nili jumped in fright: “Lin Niangzi!”

Lin Sui’an: “Shh!”

Li Nili clapped a hand over his mouth.

Zhu Dachang and the woman sat in silence. The woman transmitted meaningful glances with her eyes from time to time. The more she did, the stiffer Zhu Dachang became, his body inching progressively farther away.

Oh, now this was entertaining.

Lin Sui’an poked a hole in the wrapping paper of the tea package, pinched out a pinch of Hundred Flowers Tea, popped it into her mouth, and chewed — as a stand-in for sunflower seeds.

The woman said: “I have long heard that Registrar Zhu is just and fair in his conduct, diligent and upright — seeing him today, the reputation is well deserved. Even on a decadal rest day, you remain at the county office attending to official matters.”

Zhu Dachang replied: “My family is poor. I cannot afford a house, so I simply live at the county office.”

The woman faltered for a moment, then pressed on with undaunted spirit: “Money and wealth are nothing but material things — it is talent and moral character that form the true foundation of a person. This small courtyard is arranged with such elegance and refinement — it is clear that Registrar Zhu is a man of letters and depth.”

“You flatter me, Sixteenth Miss Qiu. I entered government service through family connections — my mind is empty, and I have no particular ambitions. Were it not for the support of my kinsmen, I could only be a laborer hauling loads on the roadside.”

Lin Sui’an’s eyebrow rose: this woman’s surname was Qiu — she was a member of the Qiu clan?

It seemed these two families had privately arranged a meeting, which suggested that the Zhu and Qiu families were not, in fact, the bitter rivals that word had made them out to be.

Even through the thick coating of powder, one could sense the woman’s expression had changed. She tugged the corner of her mouth and said: “Is Registrar Zhu suggesting that Sixteenth Miss is too lowly and impoverished to be worthy of one of Registrar Zhu’s lofty standing?”

Zhu Dachang rose and bowed. “It is I who am unworthy of the Qiu family. I ask Sixteenth Miss to please convey my respects to the Qiu family elders.”

The woman erupted in fury. She shot to her feet and flung her shawl straight into Zhu Dachang’s face, then swept out like a gust of wind.

Zhu Dachang exhaled a long breath and settled back into his seat. He had only just raised his teacup for a sip when a roar like a lioness from the east rang out — a woman past fifty came charging out, cane in hand: “You’ve driven off another one! That’s thirty-nine now! Are you trying to kill me?!”

Zhu Dachang leaped three feet into the air and fled down the covered walkway for his life. “Mother! That woman was from the Qiu family — how could the Qiu family possibly marry into our Zhu family? She had her eye on the county deputy title, nothing more!”

Zhu’s mother gave chase, her cane whistling through the air with alarming ferocity — the same fearsome rhythm as Hua Yihuan taking after Hua Yitang. “Your face looks like a flat pancake, you’re shorter than a spring onion, you’ve got no learning, no talent, no looks, no money — the only thing you have going for you is that county deputy title, and if it weren’t for that, who would give you a second glance?!”

“A man without a settled career has no foundation for marriage. My career has not yet taken shape, so there is no rush in taking a wife.”

“What utter rubbish! You’re going to spend your whole life as a county deputy and that’s the end of it — do you think you’re going to the Court of Judicial Review to become a grand official? Your greatest career achievement will be getting yourself a wife and giving me grandchildren!”

Zhu Dachang was naturally rotund and short-legged, and from the look of it had been chronically inactive — he ran panting and dripping sweat, and then his foot slipped and he went sprawling flat on his face. Zhu’s mother caught up in a flash, cane slapping down with vigorous enthusiasm — though the blows sounded fierce, they were all for show. Zhu Dachang, to his credit, was smart enough to put on a dramatic performance of anguished howling. Li Nili hurried forward to break up the fight, and the three of them tangled together in gleeful chaos.

It seemed that no matter what era one lived in, the marriage prospects of an older unmarried young man were always the central crisis of family life.

Lin Sui’an was enjoying this spectacle thoroughly and had begun to laugh out loud before she caught herself. Zhu Dachang turned his head, saw Lin Sui’an, and his anguished cries turned into a sharp intake of breath — he nearly choked himself.

Zhu’s mother also spotted Lin Sui’an, and her eyes immediately lit up. This young woman had the most striking face — phoenix eyes, long brows, a spirited bearing, posture straight as a rod — the more she looked, the more her heart was pleased. She dropped the cane at once and came forward beaming. “This young miss is —”

Zhu Dachang, at the fastest speed he had ever moved in his life, rushed forward and grabbed his mother’s arm, his face turning a shade of green. “Mother! This — this is — she is the younger sister of Doctor Fang of the Fang clinic — please, please keep your distance from her!”

“Ah — so you’re Sister Fang!” Zhu’s mother’s face fell slightly with disappointment, then brightened again with a new smile. She let go of Zhu Dachang and came forward to take Lin Sui’an by the arm, steering her toward the courtyard. “Come inside, come inside, I’ve just brewed tea — have a couple of cups and chase away the dampness.”

Lin Sui’an was thoroughly overwhelmed by this sudden enthusiasm, and let herself be guided inside. She sat down by the small table. Zhu’s mother, with great ceremony, ladled out a cup of tea and presented it to Lin Sui’an with both hands. Lin Sui’an, somewhat bewildered by this unexpected treatment, accepted it and glanced at the color of the tea — yellow-green. She did not quite dare try it, so she merely touched it to her lips and set it back down.

“You must be Registrar Zhu’s mother,” Lin Sui’an said. “I am Fang An. Registrar Zhu came to my brother’s aid not long ago, and I have come to offer our thanks.” She presented the two modest packages of tea.

Zhu’s mother was utterly delighted. “I heard all about it from my fifth son — we are all family here, no need for such formality. You can just call me Auntie Zhu.”

Zhu Dachang frenetically tugged at Zhu’s mother’s sleeve, his urgency bordering on a fit — Mother hadn’t gone completely out of her mind pining for grandchildren, had she? She couldn’t see a young woman without trying to play matchmaker. This Lin Sui’an was no ordinary person — if she were provoked, a single slap could flatten him into the literal pancake his mother had just described. And if the Hua family’s fourth young master were to find out — his life would be finished!

Lin Sui’an watched Zhu Dachang’s expression of living death from the corner of her eye, fighting desperately not to burst out laughing. “Auntie Zhu, please just say what is on your mind.”

“How forthright you are, Sister Fang!” Zhu’s mother beamed broadly. “I just want to ask Sister Fang to share a little wisdom — tell me what it is one must do to find the right match early, the way you and Young Master Mu have done.”

The eavesdropping Li Nili threw his back out on the spot. Zhu Dachang nearly collapsed. Lin Sui’an managed to keep her jaw from dropping only through sheer force of will, profoundly shaken inwardly.

The Tang Kingdom had an open social atmosphere: neither men nor women placed particular weight on purity, and certain pre-marital matters were frequently spoken of as romantic tales. But being asked, as a woman, to give a man advice on this particular subject — that was rather too bold, too mortifying!

Zhu’s mother added: “For instance, what methods did Young Master Mu use to win your heart, Sister Fang?”

Lin Sui’an exhaled with quiet relief: ah, so that was what she meant. She had been thinking too impurely — she had overthought it.

“Mother, stop asking!” Zhu Dachang was sweating profusely. He knew full well that the events of that night had been nothing more than a strategic gambit by Fourth Young Master of the Hua family to protect Lin Sui’an — there was no tender mutual affection to speak of.

“Oh, hush, don’t interrupt.” Zhu’s mother gave him a dismissive wave. “Let Sister Fang explain in detail, and you pay close attention! Otherwise, with that thick head of yours, you’ll go to your grave without ever finding a wife!”

Lin Sui’an felt rather awkward. The whole thing was a fiction — where was she supposed to begin?

But Hua Yitang’s fabricated gossip had already been set in motion. Fangke had beaten him, Hua Yitang had taken the beating, and it all connected to the legitimate mission of infiltrating Xiande Manor to investigate. No matter what, this performance had to be seen through to the very end.

“Er… well…” Lin Sui’an scratched her head. “It was really all just small things — that is, well — for example — he knew I liked raw fish, so he went out of his way to find the freshest fish to prepare it. I don’t enjoy tea, so he never brewed it — he boiled plain water for me. I was always injuring myself by accident, so he made up a healing salve. When I forgot to apply it, he applied it for me. I liked the folding stool, so he drew up a design exactly to my liking and had someone make it. When I went to the market, I didn’t like the strange smells on the foreign merchants, so he hung a ring of fragrance pouches around himself and stayed by my side, so that everything around me smelled pleasant…”

Lin Sui’an suddenly found she could not go on. Her heart had begun to beat a little faster. Her breathing felt a little tight. It was as if, if she said much more, something vague and tender would break through the surface and could no longer be concealed.

It was something she had never dared touch, never dared let herself believe —

At least, not yet…

Lin Sui’an quietly exhaled. She lowered her eyes, picked up her tea, and feigned a shy sip.

Zhu’s mother was flushed with delight, patting Zhu Dachang repeatedly on the shoulder. “Look at Young Master Mu — so considerate and attentive at such a young age! You couldn’t hold a candle to even a single one of his toes!”

Zhu Dachang nodded emphatically. He thought to himself: of course — that is none other than Fourth Young Master of the Hua family, the most celebrated young dandy of Yangdu in all the Tang Kingdom. With a head full of clever tricks and schemes for winning a woman’s heart, who under heaven could possibly compare?

Zhu’s mother was thoroughly displeased with Zhu Dachang’s lack of ambition, and jabbed a finger at his forehead as she scolded: “A registrar is the subordinate of the county magistrate — and our county magistrate’s surname happens to be Qiu! Being able to marry into the Qiu family is, frankly speaking, already us marrying above our station. You have no sense of what is good for you. The Qiu clan is enormously wealthy — and on top of that, they have the special favor of the Dragon God. If you become a Qiu family son-in-law, who knows, maybe in the future you might even have a chance to rise swiftly through the ranks!”

Something went “ding” in Lin Sui’an’s mind. Good heavens — had she just heard something extremely significant?

Mini skit:

Hua Yitang bursts into tears: My efforts are finally beginning to bear some fruit!