The youth in the pink robe had a face like jade and eyes like lacquer. Sunlight filtered through an oil-paper parasol decorated with dancing cherry blossoms, making his pink cheeks and peach-colored face even more radiant.
Ever admiring the jade-carved youth of the world, returned from ten thousand li looking ever younger, smiling. One might ask if the capital is good or not, but he only says it would darken his skin (Note 1).
It was none other than Wang Daxia. After being away for half a year, he had returned… with a touch more feminine charm.
Lu Ying was also unseen for half a year. Upon her return… despite the scar on her face, she remained youthful, though with added fierceness.
Wang Daxia tilted his parasol to the right, leaving most of his shoulder exposed to the blazing sun, while providing complete shade for a woman in plain blue clothes and mourning hairstyle beside him, making her features unclear.
But Yan Shifan guessed this widow must be Wei Caiwei.
From Wang Daxia’s complaints about the weather, it appeared the three people missing for most of the year had gone to Jiangnan and specifically visited Xinghua City.
This made Yan Shifan suddenly realize: Luo Longwen’s disappearance and the five thousand taels of gold appearing in the pirate den—it must have been these three who caused the trouble!
Yan Shifan’s intestines turned green with regret: I shouldn’t have listened to Loyalty Earl back then and spared that brat Wang Daxia! Prince Jing was right—the little widow is a calamity who must die! Too bad that damned Taoist couldn’t kill her.
And Lu Ying—
Yan Shifan, furious and flustered, strode over, spittle flying as he questioned Lu Ying: “You still have the face to return! After going home, how will you face your second sister and nephew!”
Having sailed on the official boat for over a month in near isolation, they only knew that Xu Jie had replaced Yan Song as cabinet grand secretary and that the Yan family was about to fall, but they hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly.
Even when disembarking, the three hadn’t noticed the two prisoners in convict clothes—one fat, one thin—were Yan Shifan and Yan Song, father and son.
Even facing each other directly, they hadn’t recognized who the prisoners were. When people fall from grace, their appearance and temperament change. Yan Song was already over eighty; previously he had a ruddy complexion like a birthday god, but now his hair and beard were gray-white, his complexion dark, his eyelids drooping to cover his eyes, leaving only thin slits.
Yan Shifan had lost about twenty pounds, shrinking by a size—one could even barely see he had a neck. When old enemies meet, they might not recognize each other—their faces completely transformed.
When an old prisoner suddenly roared at Lu Ying, she was first bewildered, then saw her second brother-in-law Yan Shaoting come to pull his father away, finally realizing the old prisoner was Yan Shifan.
Wang Daxia reacted quickly, first pushing Wei Caiwei behind him, then using his oil-paper parasol as a shield between Yan Shifan and Lu Ying. “Your Yan family losing office—what business is that of our Commander Lu? Our trip to Jiangnan destroyed a major White Lotus Sect stronghold. The box I brought back contains the lime-pickled head of Tie Niu, one of the four great leaders of the White Lotus Sect. If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Yan Shaoting pulled his father back. “Father, time is up. The escorts are already urging us—board the boat.”
Yan Shifan glared viciously at the three people. “Just wait. Someday, I, Yan Shifan, will make a comeback and settle accounts with you.”
“Settle accounts?” Wu Xiaoqi, who had been silent, asked Yan Shifan: “Do you still remember Wu Mask? He was an Embroidered Uniform Guard who managed the firearms warehouse.”
Yan Shifan looked blank—the name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t remember. He had killed too many people; Wu Mask was as insignificant as dust.
Wu Xiaoqi said: “You important people view us as ants. But ants also have parents and children, also have feelings. My father died by your hand. With the family pillar gone, grandmother also died of grief and illness, leaving only me alone. Now your Yan family’s fate is retribution for your evil deeds—what does it have to do with our Commander Lu? If you have the face to blame others, piss and look at yourself to see how many evil things you’ve done!”
Wu Xiaoqi’s words moved Wei Caiwei. Wasn’t she also indirectly harmed by Yan Shifan, left with only herself?
Yan Shifan couldn’t even remember Wu Mask, whom he’d just killed last Dragon Boat Festival, so naturally he wouldn’t remember a sister who died miserably eleven years ago.
Wei Caiwei said: “Good and evil have their rewards; cause and effect cycle. If you remain obstinate, thinking everyone in the world wrongs and owes you, insisting on revenge, believe me, your current exile is still relatively good.”
Yan Shifan said coldly: “You, a little widow, dare threaten me?”
Wei Caiwei replied: “I’ll wait quietly in the capital for your end.”
We know what you father and son are planning—hoping Prince Jing will seize the throne in the future, right?
Rest assured, I won’t let you succeed.
Seeing the confrontation escalating, Yan Shaoting pulled his father away. “Let’s go. Grandfather has already boarded.”
Yan Shifan boarded the boat. Yan Shaoting gave each escorting soldier a thick red envelope like a brick. “Please take care of my father and grandfather along the way. My grandfather is old, father is fat and heat-sensitive, moving slowly—please be patient.”
Though Yan Shaoting was a criminal’s son, he was also Loyalty Earl’s son-in-law. Speaking gently and politely, the soldiers dared not slight him. They politely declined several times before reluctantly accepting.
After the large boat left Tongzhou port, the soldiers secretly opened the red envelopes: Good heavens! Gold ingots weighing about fifty taels each!
They couldn’t earn this much in a lifetime.
Taking someone’s money makes one soft-spoken; accepting gifts makes one beholden. The soldiers quickly moved the Yan father and son from the lowest, damp, stuffy cabin to the spacious third-floor cabin at the top.
Yan Shifan lay smugly on the bed, laughing: “Father, you always criticized me for being money-obsessed, only knowing how to make money. Now you know money’s benefits, right? Money can make ghosts push millstones, money can create comebacks, money—”
Yan Song interrupted his son: “Don’t just gloat. The emperor spared our lives because he fears Xu Jie monopolizing power and needs someone to check him—not because you have money. Think quickly about our next steps.”
Yan Shifan rolled up from the bed. “Father, I’ve already thought of two paths. First, support Prince Jing’s ascension. Second, if Prince Jing is an incompetent fool and the emperor’s line dies out, we have another path—the Prince Yi line is in Jiangxi. Then our Yan family can compete for the merit of supporting the dragon, returning gloriously to the capital.”
Prince Yi Zhu Houxuan was Emperor Jiajing’s cousin. Emperor Jiajing became emperor because the previous Emperor Zhengde died without heir, leaving no orthodox successor. Following the rule of establishing the eldest when there’s no legitimate heir, he got lucky, transforming from a small vassal prince in Anlu, Hubei, to the Daming Emperor.
Now, neither Prince Yu nor Prince Jing had surviving sons. If Emperor Jiajing’s line also died out, according to succession order, it would fall to Prince Yi’s line. Prince Yi’s domain was in Jianchang Prefecture, Jiangxi.
The Yan father and son’s exile to Jiangxi put them in perfect position.
This method of simply starting anew—only a genius like Yan Shifan could conceive it, not limiting himself to Prince Jing alone.
Yan Song had an epiphany, telling his son: “Seems your brain contains more than just money.”
On one side, the Yan father and son returned to Jiangxi full of hopes for a comeback. On the other, Lu Ying and company began their journey home to the capital.
As previously agreed, Wang Daxia escorted Lu Ying to the Lu residence.
The Lu residence remained in mourning. Wang Daxia removed his flamboyant pink robe, changing into plain clothes. His frivolous expression became steady, dressing to please his future mother-in-law. With skin even more delicate than Lu Ying’s, he clearly looked like someone who lived off women.
Awkwardly, second brother-in-law Yan Shaoting was also returning, and they met at the gate.
Lu Ying, with a clear conscience and steady gaze, said: “Second brother-in-law, please go first.”
Facing his fierce sister-in-law, Yan Shaoting felt conflicted. “The previous generation’s affairs are beyond us younger people’s control. To avoid gossip in your second sister’s ears, tomorrow I’ll take your sister and nephew to live in Sanli Village to study in peace.”
Lu Bing’s resting place and the Lu family’s ritual fields and houses were all in Sanli Village—a quiet place.
When Lu Ying returned home, Li Yiren saw the prominent scar on her daughter’s face and held her, crying uncontrollably, releasing all the recent pressure: “You’re finally back.”
Wang Daxia knelt to apologize: “It’s all my fault—I failed to protect Commander Lu.”
Lu Ying said: “It’s not his business. The White Lotus Sect was too rampant. That we could all return safely is largely thanks to Hundred Household Wang’s mediation (sacrificing his appearance).”
Seeing the couple defending each other, Li Yiren knew Wang Daxia didn’t despise Lu Ying for her disfigurement, making her like this prospective son-in-law even more. She specially kept him for dinner.
At the evening meal, men at one table, women at another. Wang Daxia sat below Yan Shaoting with the Lu household’s two men, Lu Yi and Lu Cai. During mourning, laughter was inappropriate and alcohol forbidden—they ate in somber silence.
After enduring the meal, Wang Daxia rushed back to North City. Passing his own gate without entering, he went straight to Wei Caiwei’s home in Tianshui Lane. Beijing was experiencing flying willow catkins, and his galloping horse kicked up swirls of snow.
Wang Daxia entered through the back door. Wei Caiwei sat in the courtyard enjoying the cool air, having just cut open a watermelon, waiting for him. A fifty-tael silver ingot sat on the stone table.
Wang Daxia sat uninvited to eat melon. “What’s this silver about?”
Wei Caiwei produced a rental contract. “The lease expires today. I’m renewing for a year—this is this year’s rent.”
A year had passed swiftly. A year ago today, the dissolute Wang Daxia had refused to rent to Wei Caiwei, wanting to evict her.
A year later, Wei Caiwei hadn’t left, and Wang Daxia had given her his heart—his body still had two and a half years to go.
Wang Daxia pushed the ingot toward Wei Caiwei. “No good. Such prime location and house—I need to add something.”
Wei Caiwei: “Add how much?”
Wang Daxia leaned over and added a long, watermelon-flavored kiss. “Deal.”
Author’s Note: Pure-hearted landlord and pretty tenant. So, to have sweet romance, first you need a house…
Note 1: Adapted from Su Dongpo’s “Calming the Storm”: “Ever admiring the jade-carved youth of the world, Heaven should grant him a beauty sweet as cream. All say clear songs transmit bright teeth; when wind rises, snow flies, turning the flaming sea cool and refreshing. Returned from ten thousand li looking ever younger, smiling, the smile still carries mountain plum fragrance. Ask if Lingnan should be unpleasant, but he says: Where the heart finds peace is my home.”