Zhen Niang paid little attention to the complications surrounding the former First-Rank Official Zeng. These past few days, she had been preparing ink inventories, planning to meet with her Second Cousin to visit Instructor Zhao about the ink donation matter.

In a light rain, Zhen Niang walked with her wooden-soled shoes under an oil-paper umbrella, accompanied by her young maid, making their way to First Aunt’s house on Sanshan Street.

It was the silk-collecting season, and normally her aunt’s family would be busy, but today, due to the rain, they were all unusually at home.

“Zhen Niang, come, sit down. Haven’t seen you in quite a while. How are things? Is business going well at the shop?” First Aunt warmly inquired as soon as Zhen Niang entered.

“It’s going fine, though we haven’t managed to open up the market for mid to high-grade ink yet. That’s why I’m here to seek Second Cousin’s help,” Zhen Niang explained her purpose.

“Wonderful! It’s so good that you thought of your Second Cousin for help.” Upon hearing that she was looking for Han Bai, Han Madam Li’s face bloomed with joy, and she quickly sent someone to fetch him. Seeing her aunt’s expression, Zhen Niang secretly rubbed her forehead, thinking she should visit her Second Cousin less frequently in the future to avoid any misunderstandings.

Although in this era, marriages between cousins were considered ideal matches, for Zhen Niang, regardless of personality compatibility, cousin marriages were too close in kinship and therefore impossible.

However, there was no need to explicitly explain this. Reduced interaction over time would make everyone understand naturally. Deliberate explanations would only cause discomfort.

Zhen Niang sat down and chatted idly with Han Madam Li and Han’s eldest sister-in-law.

Shortly after, Han Bai arrived.

“Bai’er, your cousin is here. Take her for a walk in the back garden. With the rain today, it’s perfect for viewing the new lotus in the pond,” Han Madam Li deliberately created an opportunity for them to spend time together.

Zhen Niang didn’t say much—going to the back garden would be good, as they could discuss the ink donation matter.

Han Bai nodded with a smile and led Zhen Niang to the back garden. Along the way, both remained silent. Although Zhen Niang didn’t interact much with Han Bai, since the opening ceremony where he had brought people to show support, the cousins had developed a natural, relaxed relationship. However, Han Madam Li’s obvious intentions and meaningful expressions had now created an awkward atmosphere.

They walked in silence to the pavilion in the back garden. The two maids had already withdrawn, and after Zhen Niang and Han Bai sat down, they served tea. It was seasonal fresh tea, pre-rain Xinmei, a variety of Huangshan Maofeng with tiny, tender buds that danced like little spirits in the boiling water. Zhen Niang first lifted the cup to smell the refreshing fragrance. The steam from the hot tea created a poetic, misty scene in the rainy twilight.

After serving tea, the maids withdrew to stand at a distance, clearly following specific instructions from the aunt. Zhen Niang rubbed her forehead again helplessly.

“Ahem, I…” Han Bai frowned, speaking haltingly as if organizing his thoughts. His expression made his feelings clear to Zhen Niang—he likely had no interest in her either. Thus, their thoughts had aligned.

Worried about hurting her feelings, Han Bai hesitated to speak, but Zhen Niang was unconcerned and spoke first: “Second Cousin, I don’t think we’re suitable for each other.”

Hearing these words, Han Bai let out a big sigh of relief and smiled: “As you say, we aren’t very suitable.” Then he asked curiously, “Why do you think we’re not suitable?”

“Given my status as a merchant’s daughter, especially one who manages business affairs, I can’t avoid being in public and doing things unsuitable for a proper lady. Second Cousin is a scholar and one with ambitions. While you might not want to marry an official’s daughter as Aunt wishes, someone like me would inevitably cause gossip,” Zhen Niang explained.

Unexpectedly, Han Bai burst out laughing at her words: “No wonder mother used to have a poor impression of you, saying your head was full of complicated thoughts and you overthink things. She was right indeed.”

“Isn’t that how it is?” Zhen Niang raised her eyebrows, somewhat angry.

“Of course not. Think about it—we’re relatives. If I had such prejudices, how could my parents and your Second Aunt want us to associate? My family is in the trade too, and in our Huizhou, merchants are considered the highest class,” Han Bai retorted irritably, thinking his cousin indeed overthought things.

Zhen Niang felt embarrassed at Han Bai’s words, realizing she had indeed overthought it. This was a case of misunderstanding historical perspectives through modern eyes. Seeing Han Bai’s amused expression, Zhen Niang said irritably, “Oh, I understand now—Second Cousin must have someone he likes. I’ll go tell Aunt right away.”

“Cousin, cousin, please forgive me!” Han Bai jumped up in alarm, quickly bowing to Zhen Niang.

Zhen Niang had just been joking, but seeing Han Bai’s reaction, she had hit the mark. Curious, she asked, “Which family’s daughter is it? Why doesn’t Second Cousin send someone to arrange a match?”

“Ah, it’s difficult. Like King Xiang’s dream of the goddess—the divine maiden feels nothing in return. Let’s not speak of it,” Han Bai sighed, appearing dejected.

So it was unrequited love—Zhen Niang understood and didn’t pursue the matter further.

She then changed the subject to explain her purpose for visiting.

“Donating ink is a good deed. I’ll accompany you to Instructor Zhao’s house later. It should be fine, but your plan to assist impoverished students might not work,” Han Bai said after hearing her intentions.

“Why not?” Zhen Niang was puzzled. There were many poor students, and helping them study seemed like a good thing.

“What you said earlier about me was incorrect, but it does apply to most scholars. If you were from an official’s family, such assistance would be praised as a noble deed. But you’re from a merchant background, and a woman managing affairs at that. Even the poorest student with any pride would be unwilling to accept such help,” Han Bai explained.

Damn, such blatant discrimination, Zhen Niang thought angrily, furrowing her brows. She considered giving up—why spend money only to face cold shoulders? However, business decisions couldn’t be based on emotional reactions.

After some thought, she asked, “But when Li Ink opened, those students who wrote poems and essays accepted monetary gifts. Why didn’t they consider the Li family as merchants then, or mind that I was a woman managing affairs?”

“That’s different. When you provide educational funding, others must acknowledge your benevolence and repay it in the future. To be frank, they would have to treat you with respect due to being half a teacher. But the writing at the opening ceremony, as you said, was compensated with gifts. It’s like how many scholars and intellectuals write lyrics for courtesans—what they receive are gifts, which is considered a refined matter,” Han Bai explained.

With this explanation, Zhen Niang understood—her current status didn’t qualify her to sponsor education.

“What if I changed this educational sponsorship into a form of monetary reward?” she asked after some thought.

“Tell me more,” Han Bai asked, unclear about her specific idea.

“Doesn’t your academy hold literary examinations every year? From now on, the Li family could establish a Yannian Xuanyu Prize, with the top three receiving different amounts of prize money along with writing supplies,” Zhen Niang suggested, adapting the modern concept of scholarships.

Such rewards existed in this era, but usually only for the top candidates in the three major examinations: prefectural, provincial, and metropolitan. Especially for the metropolitan examination—when the list of successful candidates was posted, numerous merchant families would wait below it, ready to shower them with money and marriage proposals.

However, Zhen Niang’s Yannian Xuanyu Prize aimed to establish a tradition within the academy. As long as the prize existed, Li Ink’s reputation would endure—it was advertising.

“Hmm, this approach could work. Come, let’s find Instructor Zhao and discuss it with him. If he approves, there shouldn’t be any problems,” Han Bai found the plan feasible, so they prepared to leave for Yingtian Academy to meet Instructor Zhao.

With someone donating ink and providing prize money for students, Instructor Zhao had no reason to refuse. Furthermore, he wrote a memorial reporting the Li family’s contribution to the Yingtian Prefecture office, counting it as a cultural achievement.

Cultural advancement has always been one standard for measuring official performance.

With everything arranged, although the Li family had spent another sum of money, the returns were predictable. So while the expense was significant, it was a happy investment.

Finally, Han Bai was detained by some classmates, so Zhen Niang headed home with her young maid.

Not far from the academy was Langfang.

Langfang was built with imperial funds to house merchants from other regions. Some visiting officials new to Nanjing would also stay there, so many wealthy merchants and those close to officials resided in Langfang.

This created opportunities for fallen nobles. Their ancestors might have been meritorious officials or renowned scholars who left behind valuable items. Now in decline, they had to sell these items, much like the fallen Eight Banner families in future Beijing who survived by selling their ancestral possessions.

Both merchants and newly appointed officials often showed interest in these items.

Gradually, Langfang developed into a market.

When Zhen Niang and her maid came out, the light rain had stopped and the sun had emerged. It was early summer, slightly warm, but the recent rain had left the air refreshingly clean. The Ming Dynasty sky was particularly blue, and Zhen Niang felt like browsing, so she headed toward the Langfang market with her maid.

Unexpectedly, upon entering the market, she saw the former First-Rank Official Zeng setting up a stall nearby for calligraphy and ink appreciation.

Evidently, under the Tian family’s boycott, he still hadn’t found a patron and had begun to support himself independently.