For officials of rank, the government provided accommodation.

Mo Yi didn’t live in the Commander-in-Chief’s mansion, but had rented a small residence in an alley behind the mansion to house his concubine, Madam Lu. That was where he hosted Zhao Ling. Seeing how the place was quiet despite being in a busy area, and mostly surrounded by families of the Commander’s office clerks and runners, with no idlers daring to loiter nearby, Zhao Ling became interested. When Mo Yi learned of this, he was naturally pleased to help and enthusiastically assisted Zhao Ling in renting the courtyard house next door: “…Living closer, we can look after each other if anything happens. I’ll also speak to the Commander’s office on your behalf, so you can go to Zhuanglang Guard with peace of mind.”

Zhao Ling thanked Mo Yi with a smile, then invited Tao Mu and Lin Chi to join them for drinks at Xiqin Restaurant as a token of gratitude. In the afternoon, he brought Fu Tingyun to see the house.

The residence wasn’t large—a sturdy compound with high stone walls, three main rooms, side chambers on the left and right, and stables at the back. The rooms came furnished with tables and chairs, all arranged neatly and clean.

Fu Tingyun was very satisfied.

“This used to be the residence of a Manager from the Commander’s office,” Zhao Ling explained as they walked out, smiling. Later, he was transferred to Xining Guard as an Assistant Officer, and the place became vacant. When Mo Yi learned I wanted to buy a residence here, he specifically sent someone to Xining Guard.”

“We must thank General Mo for his trouble,” Fu Tingyun smiled. “Ninth Master should properly express gratitude to General Mo.”

“Of course,” Zhao Ling smiled. “If you find anything unsatisfactory that needs repair, or if you want to add furnishings, just tell Zheng San and have him find Mo Yi…”

As they talked and left the residence, Zheng Sanniang came forward to help Fu Tingyun into the carriage. From the corner of her eye, she noticed someone hiding behind the door of the neighboring house, peering at them. She made a mental note and later told Fu Tingyun.

“Was it the house on the left or the right?” Fu Tingyun asked.

The house on the left belonged to Mo Yi, while the house on the right belonged to the Qi family, whose husband worked as a Records Keeper in the Commander’s storehouse.

Zheng Sanniang recalled: “It was the house on the left.”

That meant someone from Mo Yi’s household was spying on them!

Fu Tingyun found this strange, but having never met the person, she didn’t know their intentions and could only keep it in mind. Worried that Zheng Sanniang might overthink it, and considering they would all be neighbors soon—better to avoid unnecessary trouble—she smiled and said: “Perhaps they were just curious about us moving in.”

But such peeping was indeed inappropriate.

Zheng Sanniang couldn’t help muttering: “Wasn’t General Mo supposed to be from a distinguished family? This concubine seems rather petty! She doesn’t have the bearing of someone from a noble household, more like the gossip from our village…”

“That’s enough,” Fu Tingyun cut off Zheng Sanniang’s complaints with a smile. “Quickly pack our things. Ninth Master said we’ll move there early tomorrow morning.” She added, “Once Ninth Master has settled us in, he can set off for Zhuanglang Guard.”

Zheng Sanniang smiled sheepishly while helping pack Fu Tingyun’s belongings into chests, asking: “Will A Sen stay with us in Zhangye or follow Ninth Master to Zhuanglang Guard?”

A Sen had lost his parents early, which evoked great sympathy from Zheng Sanniang, who had recently become a mother herself. She cared for him as if he were her nephew.

“He’ll stay with us in Zhangye,” Fu Tingyun smiled as she placed the “Thousand Family Poems” into a chest. “Ninth Master is going for official duty, how could he bring along a young servant? Besides, with us, A Sen can learn to recognize characters. Perhaps he could even attend a private school.”

All professions are based; only studying ranks high.

Zheng Sanniang nodded in agreement.

First, Fu Tingyun didn’t have many possessions; second, they were still heading to Zhuanglang Guard, so they only took out some clothes to change into. The chests were quickly packed.

Zhao Ling entered carrying a red lacquered box with gold accents.

“I need to speak with Miss Fu,” he dismissed Zheng Sanniang. “You may go now.”

Zheng Sanniang quickly curtseyed and withdrew.

Fu Tingyun invited Zhao Ling to sit on the kang bed, brewed tea and served it, asking in a clear voice: “What matter does Ninth Master wish to discuss?”

Zhao Ling opened the box, which contained a smaller carved red lacquer box.

The bright red box was carved with an image of a shepherd boy playing a flute, exquisitely crafted and lifelike, clearly no ordinary item.

Zhao Ling handed the carved red lacquer box to Fu Tingyun: “The deeds to three shops on Baoqing Street, over seventeen hundred mu of land in Chang’an County, and five thousand taels in bank notes from Baoqing Building—they’re all here. Keep them safe…”

Fu Tingyun was stunned.

This was all of Zhao Ling’s property!

What did it mean for her to keep these?

“No, no, no, I cannot accept this,” she repeatedly declined, looking somewhat flustered. “This is what you worked so hard to earn…”

“At Zhuanglang Guard, I’ll be living in military quarters,” Zhao Ling interrupted firmly. “Where would I keep these things? You’re just keeping them for me, and when I need something, I’ll ask you for it.”

It sounded reasonable.

Yet, why did it feel so strange?

Fu Tingyun still hesitated inwardly, but seeing Zhao Ling’s solemn expression and clear gaze, she felt she might be overthinking.

“All right!” She bit her lip. “I’ll temporarily keep these for Ninth Master.”

Hearing this, Zhao Ling’s expression relaxed slightly. He then discussed some trivial matters before smiling and taking his leave.

Fu Tingyun counted the valuables in the room, calculating their monthly expenses in Zhangye, and didn’t rest until the Hai hour [9-11 PM].

The next day at dawn, they took a carriage to the residence in the back street.

Fu Tingyun occupied the eastern room of the main house, while the western room stored some of Zhao Ling’s belongings. The eastern wing served as guest rooms, one for A Sen and another storing Yang Yucheng and Jin Yuanbao’s things. The western wing had one room as a kitchen and another for the Zheng couple. The carriage and cargo wagon were kept in the rear courtyard, and Zhao Ling had left them a horse.

A Sen rolled excitedly on the kang bed: “This is my room, this is my room!” His antics made Fu Tingyun laugh as she arranged the main hall with Zheng Sanniang. She asked him: “Aren’t you afraid to sleep alone?”

“Not afraid!” A Sen’s face was flushed with happiness. “I can sleep at the head or foot of the kang as I please!” Even Zhao Ling couldn’t help smiling, lightly patting his head, “Did you always sleep on the floor before?”

A Sen giggled.

Yang Yucheng went over and kicked his backside: “When I return, you won’t be sleeping alone anymore!”

They all treated this place as their home.

Fu Tingyun felt a warmth in her heart listening to them.

A Sen darted into the hall, hiding behind Fu Tingyun and poking his little head out to challenge Yang Yucheng: “Anyway, most of the time I’ll be sleeping alone.”

Everyone burst into laughter, cheerfully arranging the rooms. For lunch, they simply bought a few flatbreads from the street. In the afternoon, they set up the ancestral tablet, paid respects, and Fu Tingyun personally cooked—frying, stir-frying, braising, deep-frying—making four cold dishes, four hot appetizers, eight hot dishes, and a mutton hot pot. Zheng San went to buy several jins of sorghum wine from a general store. Everyone gathered around the table for a lively meal that didn’t end until the beginning of the Hai hour [9 PM].

The Zheng couple and A Sen cleaned up, while Fu Tingyun washed her hands with scented soap, sat at her dressing table applying fragrant cream, and mentally noted that Zheng San should go shopping again. The hall lacked a central scroll, and the console table was bare—perhaps buying a pair of plum vases or flower stands would make good decorations…

Someone knocked “tap-tap-tap” on her inner chamber doorframe.

She looked up to see Zhao Ling leaning against the frame.

Perhaps due to the wine, his face was slightly flushed, his bright eyes twinkling with amusement like the warm river waters of March, friendly and approachable, filling the air with a rich sense of spring.

“Everything’s arranged,” he smiled as he slowly walked toward her, his voice somewhat hoarse, his gaze warm and intimate. “I’ll be setting off at the Mao hour [5-7 AM] tomorrow.” As he spoke, he paused, his gaze growing deeper as he looked at her, his lips slightly parted, seeming to have more to say.

For some reason, under his gaze, Fu Tingyun felt no sadness about the parting, only the tension his proximity brought.

“Is, is that so?” Her voice was unsteady. “Then, take care on your journey!”

Zhao Ling stopped, silently standing there, gazing at her.

It felt as if a thousand lanterns were shining above her head; Fu Tingyun experienced an inescapable shyness and unease.

She had just returned from the kitchen and hadn’t had time to bathe—surely he could smell the cooking odors on her! And her hair—she had wrapped it in a kerchief earlier, which she had carelessly tossed onto the dressing table upon returning to her room, leaving her hair in complete disarray… Had she known, she should have freshened up immediately upon returning.

Fu Tingyun was filled with regret, a blush gradually rising to her cheeks.

They faced each other in silence, the room quiet except for the distant sound of A Sen’s laughter.

Zhao Ling said softly: “I’ll come back to see you whenever I can!”

Fu Tingyun pursed her lips as she looked at Zhao Ling, her heart beating wildly.

…

Holding her wrist above the paper, her elegant small script fell one by one onto the slightly yellowed rice paper: “…Two jars of vinegar, 280 wen; two jars of soy sauce, 310 wen; ten jin of pepper, 1,200 wen. Total…”

Fu Tingyun put down her brush and slowly worked the abacus.

In the blink of an eye, it was already the twenty-second day of the twelfth lunar month, and she had been busy with the Zheng couple preparing for the New Year.

Fortunately, she had helped her eldest aunt manage household affairs at home, and now with only three adults and two children in the house, everything was running smoothly without mishaps.

Tomorrow was the day to make offerings to the Kitchen God. She wondered how they were doing in Zhuanglang Guard. Would they return for the New Year? Was there anything she should send over?

With these thoughts, her hand stopped moving the abacus beads.

“I’ll come back to see you whenever I can…” His deep, gentle voice echoed in her ears again.

She bit her red lips.

Liar!

He had promised to come see her whenever possible, but since sending a letter at the beginning of the month to let her know he was safe, there had been no further news. He didn’t reply to her letters, leaving her worried day and night, unable to sleep well.

Thinking of this, she grew restless, her hand forcefully pushing the abacus beads.

The loud clacking of wooden beads startled her back to awareness.

Now she would have to recalculate the accounts, and she wasn’t even particularly skilled with the abacus.

Fu Tingyun sighed softly and turned the account book back to the first page.

This fellow—even if he hadn’t taken his words to heart, what about the New Year gifts for the Marquis of Yingchuan and others? He should at least provide some guidance.

If she hadn’t been waiting for news from him, she wouldn’t have had to hurriedly send Zheng San with the New Year gifts just two days ago.

Fortunately, Zheng San was capable. After quietly slipping some silver to the stewards of several households, they promised to put in good words with their masters. Otherwise, she would truly have been anxious beyond measure.

Thinking of these things, Fu Tingyun’s mind wandered again.

Zheng Sanniang entered: “Miss, Mrs. Qi has come to visit!”