She had thought she was already late, that Meng Hu would stop her, that guards would gradually appear to disturb their private world, that Gong Yin might have already eaten breakfast. Who knew that when she hurriedly crossed through the side gate, she found the Quiet Courtyard peaceful and still, with Gong Yin dressed casually, standing by the large octagonal bronze fish tank in the courtyard watching the fish.
Her footsteps went patter-patter, and he seemed unaware, though on the table beside him sat warm ginseng tea.
She pattered up behind him, stood on tiptoe, and was about to extend both hands when he suddenly stepped aside, saying, “Your hands aren’t even clean—what are you trying to do?”
Jing Hengbo rolled her eyes dramatically—always such a spoilsport! She simply wiped both hands front and back all over his back.
Gong Yin reached back to grasp her hands, casually picking up a cloth towel from the side to carefully wipe them for her, saying, “The weather’s already cold—why are you putting your hands in cold water? When will you ever settle down?” While criticizing, his fingertips flicked against her palm. Though the gesture seemed unceremonious, Jing Hengbo’s cold hands immediately warmed.
“Your technique is wrong,” Jing Hengbo said without courtesy, grabbing his palm and covering it over her own hand, using her other hand to curl his palm into a ball, wrapping around her hand. “There, you should do it like this—wrap my hand and rub it for me. How warm, how touching, how considerate, how Korean drama-like…”
She looked up at his height, compared it to her own, somewhat regretting that the most adorable height difference standard wasn’t quite met—all because she was too tall.
Gong Yin pulled back his hand, glanced at her, “Nonsense.” He casually picked up the ginseng tea from the table, tested the temperature with his fingertip on the bowl’s edge—just right—then handed it to her, saying, “Drink it.”
Jing Hengbo was indeed thirsty from talking, so she drank it readily, saying with a grin, “I also prepared some love for you.”
Inadvertently looking up, she saw Gong Yin’s face leaning down, his dark eyes focused and calm, staring at her bowl, watching her drink the soup with complete seriousness. It was another kind of wordless tenderness, found in every minute’s detailed attention.
Her heart filled with joy. She put down the bowl, hooked her arms around his neck, and whispered by his ear, “The ginseng soup smells so good—won’t you taste it too?”
Gong Yin stared at her slightly moist red lips, their gently pursed posture like a silent invitation. Between her lips and teeth came a faint ginseng fragrance, along with a subtle yet alluring scent. The gentle breeze on all sides seemed touched by spring’s breath, soft and lingering.
He paused, turned his eyes away, his tone still light but his voice seeming somewhat hoarse: “You haven’t washed up yet, have you?” As he spoke, his body shifted, moving behind a cluster of flowers.
Jing Hengbo blinked.
Hey, you’re being sarcastically disgusted with me while moving toward the bushes—what exactly are you trying to do?
Would admitting you want it too kill you?
Such a contrary emperor!
Sister originally just wanted to tease you, but now I don’t plan to let you off!
She stood on tiptoe, grabbing hold of the great god who wanted to push her away yet couldn’t bear to, who was mindful of broad daylight yet trying to hide behind bushes. Her lips pursed like a flower, “Chu,” giving him a quick peck.
“Haven’t brushed teeth, haven’t washed face—smell what this is. If you think it doesn’t smell good, you can kiss me back. After all, you haven’t brushed teeth or washed face either, so I don’t mind.” She smiled sweetly, saying this all in one breath, then blinked at him.
Gong Yin was… looking at floating clouds.
His gaze passed high over her head, fixed on a distant wisp of cloud, while behind his ears and on both cheeks, that faint red seemed even more obvious.
“Why don’t you go wash up? If you’re late for the court meeting, don’t expect to participate again.”
Jing Hengbo pouted—the great god’s essential trick after every bout of shyness—talking business, acting proper.
“Today’s a rest day—the ministers aren’t working. Did you forget?” She grinned, indeed getting to see the great god’s face turn embarrassedly red again.
But she thought this was so cute! Red ears were cute, red cheeks were cute, the uncharacteristic darting eyes were cute, and the posture of leaning back while feet leaned forward was even cuter.
Wonder if he’s cute in bed… Jing Hengbo resentfully tugged at her hair… The great god had changed his door’s password and even set up some strange barrier inside his chambers. Her teleportation ability that could go anywhere was actually blocked. Several times she’d tried sneaking in, only to encounter weirdness. Sometimes it was pitch-black darkness that made her fearful and quick to flee; sometimes it was a misty white where she couldn’t see anything and didn’t dare step forward blindly. Sometimes it was simply like a pool of seawater that made her too intimidated to enter.
She knew this probably belonged to illusion-type mechanisms that controlled consciousness, but because it was too realistic, her subconscious was unwilling to take risks, so even teleportation couldn’t work, forcing her to reluctantly abandon her desire to pounce on that guy.
Really now. She sniffled, thinking the great god was too pretentious. Queens could marry state preceptors, and sister was willing to marry you. Looking at your behavior, though you don’t say it, you’d definitely be willing to marry sister too. So why won’t you let sister try marriage? Could it be he’s afraid that after trying, if things don’t work out, sister would abandon him?
Jing Hengbo stared in horror—ah, it couldn’t be, right?
When Gong Yin turned his head, he saw someone’s face displaying a succession of ambiguous, suggestive, lewd, horrified, and worried expressions. Those expressions developed until finally she lowered her eyes and kept scanning back and forth at certain parts of him, giving him the sudden urge to grab a shield and protect everything below his waist…
After worrying for a while, Jing Hengbo felt some things were still very necessary—she’d try again next time…
Mm, before that, don’t be too hasty, don’t scare him into hiding…
Having decided on her plan, she straightened her expression.
“Brush teeth, brush teeth! I brought you something good today.”
She produced a transparent bag from behind her back like offering a treasure, waving it at him, “You’ll definitely like it!”
Gong Yin’s gaze fell on that bag. Like all the various strange things she owned, this bag was also peculiar—completely transparent, smooth yet soft, seeming like leather but not leather, its material unidentifiable. He could see several items inside: a soft tube-shaped object in bright colors, a light blue brush with bristles on one end, a white comb of special material, a round, hard, colorful little box, and two small, white, flat round bottles.
Jing Hengbo held her only toiletry set, her expression precious. She didn’t feel heartache though—taking it out for the great god to use, she was still willing.
When they’d initially fled the research institute, the four people’s packing styles had differed. Jing Hengbo remembered Jun Ke had the most clothes—she didn’t care much about external things but worried about having no money for clothes after leaving, so her small denim bag was mostly clothing. Taishi Lan had a rigid personality and detested everything about the research institute, firmly believing she could earn everything with her own hands after leaving, so her small suitcase was just randomly stuffed with a few things, not even filling it. She didn’t remember about Wen Zhen, but vaguely recalled seeing her stuff a frying pan into her big bag… As for herself, her suitcase was largest with the most things—all sorts of stuff, wishing she could move the entire research institute. But clothes also took up most of the space, and some clothes that really wouldn’t fit were thrown into Taishi Lan and Jun Ke’s luggage.
She was probably the only one of the four who brought a toiletry set, because she thought they might not find a hotel the first night—the four had no ID cards.
Now this toiletry set had become the only precious set in this other world, and she felt it necessary to share it with him.
“What is this?” Gong Yin picked up the tube-shaped object, squeezed it, feeling there seemed to be paste-like substance inside. Looking at the surface, he was somewhat puzzled by the three simplified characters for “Colgate,” his expression seeming a bit gloomy.
Probably unable to figure out that there were still characters in this world he didn’t recognize?
“Hey hey, don’t squeeze. If you squeeze it out, it’ll be wasted.” Jing Hengbo was about to tease him when she saw him squeezing hard and quickly picked up the toothbrush to catch it.
Gong Yin had already caught it with his finger, sniffed it—fragrant and slightly sweet, very appetizing.
Jing Hengbo didn’t catch it anymore, watching with a grin. It looked like the great god might very well think this was something to eat. Go ahead and eat it—if you eat it, she could laugh at him for a lifetime hahaha. She was sick of being crushed by his intelligence hahaha.
Her expression was too excited. Gong Yin’s clear eyes glanced over, and his hand paused.
This woman—she’s up to no good again, isn’t she?
Really, with his status, would he actually have the bad habit of casually putting strange things in his mouth?
“Food?” he asked, bringing the toothpaste near his lips, his eyes catching her burning gaze.
“Try it and see,” she answered slyly.
He nodded, then lowered his hand. Just as she was about to burst into laughter, he suddenly quickly extended his finger, smearing toothpaste on her face!
The laughter stopped abruptly.
“Uh…”
Not stopping there, his finger continued smearing several times, drawing several marks on her face.
“I don’t think it’s food—perhaps it’s your pearl cream,” he said to her with complete seriousness after finishing. “Snow-white and lustrous, slightly fragrant—should be quite good. How does it feel?”
Feel your ass—so frustrated!
Jing Hengbo didn’t have time to curse him, tearfully rushing to wash. Looking in the water basin—damn, what creativity!
He’d actually written characters!
Left cheek: “Two”
Right cheek: “Idiot”
You’re the idiot! Every one of your fingers is an idiot!
Jing Hengbo worked up lots of foam on her face, using three basins of water to wash, muttering regretfully: “I shouldn’t have let you use it. It’s not too late to not let you use it now. You’ll never know how to use this, hmph… Huh? Huh huh? How are you using it? How do you know? Ah ah ah, how can you do this!”
Meanwhile, Gong Yin picked up his blue porcelain mouthwash cup, calmly took the light blue toothbrush, unhurriedly squeezed toothpaste onto the toothbrush, and slowly put it in his mouth.
Jing Hengbo, with her dripping wet face, stared dumbfounded, nearly dropping the basin in her hands.
“How did you know…”
Gong Yin glanced at her, experimentally brushed a bit, saw her expression growing more shocked, became more certain he was doing it right, and methodically continued brushing.
How did he know? This silly woman—didn’t she realize some people had the answers written on their faces?
They’d already mentioned brushing teeth. If it wasn’t pearl cream and couldn’t be eaten, it was naturally for cleaning teeth. Using that strange brush to apply it, naturally you’d brush with the brush dipped in it. What difference was there from using willow twigs dipped in green salt to clean teeth? Just that the tools were more special.
As for the technique—he could tell from her expression whether it was right or wrong.
Mm, however, this smell and feeling really was much better than green salt…
Jing Hengbo stared slack-jawed at the great god leisurely brushing with the toothbrush—aiya, she hadn’t had time to show off and take control, had planned to teach him bit by bit while he didn’t understand so she could take some verbal advantage, but aiya intelligence and such things were really too annoying!
Seeing her sulky expression, he merely curved his lips slightly, reached for her white porcelain mouthwash cup, took the small brush she’d made imitating a toothbrush, also squeezed on some toothpaste, and pushed it toward her.
Jing Hengbo had always been easy to coax. Indeed, she immediately smiled with curved eyes because of his considerate action, saying “This toothpaste is just one tube—you use it yourself from now on” while happily brushing her teeth.
Gong Yin looked down at the toothbrush in his hand—light blue handle, white bristles cut in neat waves, the handle texture like jade. A very wonderful little thing.
Everything in this entire bag was wonderful, and there was only one set. Needless to say, these were again things absolutely unique in Dahuang. She’d kept them by her side for so long without bearing to use them, presumably because once used up, there would be no more.
Even so, she still chose to leave this unique thing for him.
The toothbrush handle warmed in his palm, and his heart seemed warm too—burning hot and surging, blocked in his chest. He felt the sweet fishy breath in his throat.
He silently swallowed, beckoned to guards who had withdrawn far away, and had them bring silk. He wrapped the toothpaste and toothbrush layer by layer, putting them back in the bag.
After Jing Hengbo finished brushing, she spat water toward the sky with “puh puh” sounds. Turning around to see his actions, she asked in surprise, “Why put it away? Not planning to use it? This stuff is really good—wasn’t it especially comfortable?” She grinned and bumped his shoulder, saying in a soft voice, “This is specially for before kissing, to freshen breath… Come, shall we smell up close whether it’s fragrant?”
Then she went to grab his neck again, wanting to “smell whether it’s fragrant.”
Gong Yin raised his palm, blocking her flower-like red lips, looking quite pained—once this female wolf confirmed her feelings, she didn’t distinguish day from night, constantly clamoring to kiss and pounce and sleep… Though this was good, shouldn’t she wait until evening…
Jing Hengbo grinned and nuzzled his palm, obediently withdrawing. She wasn’t a daytime lewd rogue—she just liked teasing him, liked seeing his efforts at self-control and forced restraint, and those repeatedly reddening earlobes that really looked quite appetizing…
“What are these two?” To prevent the female wolf’s continued advantage-taking, Gong Yin, who never liked meddling in trivial matters, hastily grabbed the other two blue and white small bottles.
Jing Hengbo glanced—those were sample-sized shampoo and body wash.
“For washing hair and bathing…” Jing Hengbo lazily made a soap-rubbing gesture.
Gong Yin’s gaze very naturally followed her body’s curves for a tour, watching her soft elbow glide over her graceful body… He suddenly turned away.
“…Much better than those current soap nuts and bath beans. Oh, I haven’t used these in so long even my scalp misses them…” Jing Hengbo turned and saw someone’s expression, freezing. “Huh, why is your face red? What are you blushing about for no reason?”
Gong Yin’s gaze quickly darted away, randomly picking up a bottle, saying, “Let’s try it.”
Jing Hengbo blinked at him—Great god, do you know what you’re saying right now?
The great god really didn’t quite know—his attention had just lingered where it shouldn’t have…
The more embarrassed he became, the more he wanted to escape embarrassment. He simply seriously picked up that bottle, saying, “Why can’t we try?”
“We can.” Jing Hengbo couldn’t quite keep up, answering blankly.
“Is this for washing hair or bathing?”
“Washing hair.”
“Is your head itchy?”
“Itchy.” Jing Hengbo only felt her whole body itching from his gaze.
So strange, so strange.
Gong Yin immediately stood up, summoning guards with a few instructions. Soon people set up a simple canopy, others brought hot water, and still others dragged over a reclining chair.
“Come wash your hair.” He stood in his snow-white robes by the steaming basin stand like a master barber, calling to her with natural composure.
“Oh.” Only after Jing Hengbo agreed did she think to protest: “No, I like washing my hair when I bathe—washing it like this will get water all over my neck.”
“Are you doubting my hands-on ability?” the great god said.
Huh? What does that mean? Before Jing Hengbo could react, he’d already pulled her over, pressed her onto the reclining chair. “Lie down.”
“Oh.” Jing Hengbo lay down, watching him dismiss the guards and personally move the hot water basin stand behind the reclining chair. Her eyes gradually widened.
“Gong Yin…” she said quietly, disbelievingly, “You… you’re going to help me wash my hair?”
“Someone is very stupid—even washing hair gets water all over her neck.” He reached out to test the water temperature, not even looking at her. “I want to see if with someone helping, she’s still this stupid.”
Jing Hengbo said nothing, lying on her side with a grin, watching Gong Yin test the water. This was the first time she’d encountered Gong Yin’s sarcasm without talking back. Gong Yin rarely didn’t press his advantage either, lowering his head to concentrate on testing water temperature. White steam rose in wisps, obscuring his expression—only his long, drooping eyelashes were visible, condensed with diamond-like water vapor.
The steam was warm and gentle, and in the steam, Jing Hengbo’s eyes were also brimming like water. She curved her lips slightly, joy blooming like flowers in her heart, but didn’t want to speak out and disturb this moment. She feared that once she spoke, once she expressed herself, that inherently stuffy and shy fellow would throw down the towel and run away.
Missing the chance for the great god to personally wash her hair—she’d die of regret.
Stay calm, stay calm.
She turned over on the reclining chair, not looking at him to avoid his embarrassment, saying with a smile, “Help me untie my hair—so itchy, so itchy.”
He seemed to pause, then a pair of hands reached over, gently untying her hair ribbon.
She didn’t like elaborate hairstyles. At court meetings she’d arrange a simple bun, but normally when no one else was around she mostly wore it loose, tying it up like now when she needed to move around.
With naturally good hair quality, almost as soon as his fingers gently combed through, the deep red silk ribbon slid smoothly down.
A mass of slightly curled long hair spread like clouds in his palm.
Her hair wasn’t pure black. Jing Hengbo had once dyed it blonde, but she’d done it herself with unsatisfactory results. Later she’d used color remover to wash it out, and now the color was slowly recovering, presenting a very special hue somewhat like chestnut. Fortunately her natural foundation was good—the luster was undiminished, each strand shining with light in the sun.
Gong Yin’s fingers couldn’t help but curl slightly, feeling like he was holding a cloud, or a dream. The cloud was one that wandered free and romantic across the sky; the dream was one that nestled warm, secret, and close to his heart. The faint fragrance was also like suddenly blooming flowers, arriving uninvited at his nose. Different from her body scent, it was lighter, carrying natural floral notes. Being brushed by such fragrance made one feel their heart had also become as soft as the hair in their palm.
He didn’t move for a long time, but she felt her hair trembling and was indeed getting itchy, couldn’t help laughing as she urged him, “Hey, the water’s getting cold.”
Somehow, this voice carried nasal tones—turning, revolving, the ending note winding through seven or eight curves—soul-stirring.
She had a naturally lazy, slightly husky voice that was alluring even without trying to be seductive. But she was naturally proud at heart and had never deigned to use affected tones. Yet now she understood that when the heart naturally rippled with love, without pretense it could still be lingering and long. Every note was refined by secret joyful emotions, emerging as the most natural coquetry.
Hearing her speak this way, he was again slightly dazed, quietly “mm”-ing, quite carefully cradling her hair and immersing it in hot water.
Jing Hengbo comfortably “mm”-ed, relaxing her body. The moment hot water flowed over her scalp, her heart seemed to warm too.
He was moving gently, covering her crown with a cloth, then slowly smoothing downward, strand by strand shaking out her hair and immersing it in hot water. Watching the hair in water become black and bright as clouds, gently undulating in graceful form, it stirred his heart.
She closed her eyes, smiling at the corners of her mouth. She didn’t want to tell him how to use shampoo—only wanted this moment to last longer, much longer.
He didn’t ask either. Neither wanted to speak, unwilling to let voices disturb this moment’s peaceful mood. He cleverly opened the shampoo bottle cap himself, first trying to pour—nothing came out. After thinking, he squeezed, and indeed a big blob came out. He stared at that blob, a bit uncertain whether it was too much or too little. After thinking, he squeezed out another blob.
The bottle was instantly half empty. He shook the bottle, shook his head, feeling that though this stuff was fragrant and convenient, it really didn’t last long.
Jing Hengbo felt cool liquid covering her crown from his palm. She loved this feeling of having her head wrapped, a beautiful sense of being protected. She couldn’t help nudging her head upward, nuzzling against his palm.
He stopped, looking down at her. She squinted, her face full of coquetry and satisfaction. Sunlight was broken by flower shadows, covering her cheeks in varying shades, blending her features more softly—like a carefree little cat.
His heart stirred, then ached slightly, but his lips curved in a gentle arc.
Cool liquid covered her, and he intuitively began gently massaging her scalp. Hair wound around his fingers, creating countless white foam bubbles like the steaming yet tender mood of this moment.
His fingertips lightly scratched across her scalp with just the right pressure. She purred comfortably like a cat, her whole body shivering secretly, unable to help stretching out in the sunlight.
The sunlight grew brighter, penetrating dense green leaves to illuminate the woman lying and man sitting under the tree. Her hand rested on her heart, her lips full of secret joy, her black hair swaying in the bronze basin. He sat by her head, gently washing her long hair by the basin. Sunlight lit his profile, his focused, clear gaze.
Light and shadow like gauze draped them in pale golden-red morning glow. Water sounds were gentle, smiles shallow, flowers bloomed faintly, wind passed lightly. Water drops carelessly flicked by fingertips sparkled crystal-clear as dreams.
Under the tree, there were occasional low murmurs, also like dream-like circling turns, sweetly born.
“Gong Yin…”
“Mm.”
“Gong Yin…”
“Mm.”
“Gong Yin.”
“Mm.”
“Gong Yin.”
“What exactly do you want to say?”
“…Nothing, I just want to call your name. Gong Yin… Gong Yin… your name sounds so nice…”
“Silly…”
His voice was cold, but his finger movements became even gentler. He changed to a basin of water with a splash—the basin was still full of white foam. He had patience to continue. It didn’t matter. If it couldn’t be washed clean, wash slowly. Today was a rest day, today she was here, today he wouldn’t receive any ministers, today he was washing hair.
She didn’t care either. Couldn’t get it clean for a while? Perfect. Wash slowly. Today was a rest day, today she wanted to be with him, today whoever came to spoil the mood she’d kill them, today she was getting her hair washed.
“Gong Yin, washing hair is very comfortable.”
“Mm.”
“Next time I’ll help you wash.”
“No.”
“Really, so comfortab…” Her speech was slurring, “I want to wash your hair, I want to wash your clothes, I want to tuck you in, I want to give you little moths…”
“Mm?” He suddenly stopped, tilting his head, “What?”
She didn’t answer. Her breathing was heavy—she had actually fallen asleep, warmly tilting her head in the sunlight, a smile at the corner of her mouth that even the wind couldn’t blow away.
He stared at her hard for a long time, seeming to want to stare her awake to properly answer that last deadly sentence. Unfortunately, that fellow who had gotten up too early just wouldn’t cooperate. She even turned over and hugged one of his arms, mumbling as she pressed her face against his arm.
His staring was about to turn into glaring, and his other arm had already lifted, looking like he very much wanted to pat her awake. However, before his water-dampened fingers could touch her face, he pulled back, even flicking the water drops from his fingertips to avoid them falling on her face and disturbing her sleep.
Little moths…
He sighed, feeling that to be with this woman, his heart needed to be much stronger.
There was still a lot of foam in the basin. He sighed again, wondering what this stuff was. Just a little bit, how could there be so much foam? It seemed like the more you washed, the more there was. It looked like her things weren’t necessarily good things. This hair-washing liquid—if you really had to wash like this, it would tire a person to death.
Originally when she suggested helping him wash in the future, he’d been somewhat moved. Now it seemed he’d refused very correctly.
…
Half an hour later, he flicked his fingers for the twelfth time, “Change the water.”
…
Most of an hour later, Jing Hengbo mumbled and woke up, confused for a long time. She saw there was now a huge bucket on the ground filled with hot water, guards standing crookedly in the distance, and water spilled everywhere.
She was stunned for a long time before exclaiming “Oh my god, Gong Yin, how is it still not finished washing? My bones are all sore from sleeping, and also, why does my scalp hurt so much…”
The great god raised his hands that had been scalded red by the water, looked at the white foam still existing in the basin, was silent for a long time, then turned his head, “Change the water.”
…
One hair wash took half the morning.
By the time Jing Hengbo could finally get up from the reclining chair, she felt her bones were about to ache, and her scalp was burning.
She hissed and sucked in air, thinking about how she’d prayed for this hair washing to last longer and longer. Indeed, heaven heard her this time—it lasted long enough to equal a year’s worth of hair washing sessions combined.
She wanted to laugh but held it back. No, if she laughed now, she’d never get the great god to serve her again. Look at his little face turning green.
Cui Jie carried a tray, hesitating whether to come in or not. At this hour, was there still any point in bringing breakfast?
Jing Hengbo’s stomach had long been hungry. Seeing her, she immediately cheered, “Bring it over!” Then she showed off to Gong Yin, “You must try it—today’s porridge was cooked by me, and I prepared the side dishes for you too.”
Cui Jie rolled her eyes—stirring twice in the rice-washing basin counted as cooking porridge? That was the first time she’d heard such a thing.
Gong Yin’s expression finally improved somewhat. Led by Jing Hengbo’s hand, he sat at the stone table under the flower trellis nearby. He waved for all the servants who came to serve to withdraw, and without waiting for Jing Hengbo to help, he casually picked up a bowl and served her a bowl of porridge.
“Hey, I wanted to serve it for you personally.” Jing Hengbo regretted losing an opportunity to show love.
“I’m afraid if you served it, I wouldn’t get to eat a single mouthful of hot porridge.” The great god was still sharp-tongued yet gentle in action, quickly serving her a plate of pastries as well.
Jing Hengbo grinned as she lifted the silver cover of a white porcelain plate, “Ta-da-da-da! The world’s unparalleled, most refreshing, appetite-stimulating, essential for home and travel side dish appears!”
The white fine porcelain dish was exquisite and delicate, showing a jade-green base color, with a small pile of pale yellow thin stem-like pickled vegetables dotted with bits of bright red chili, fresh and appealing in color, arousing appetite.
That’s right—the most common and widespread side dish loved throughout north and south, companion to countless people through their cafeteria years, the classic: pickled mustard tuber.
When Jing Hengbo had dug out this packet of pickled mustard tuber from the inner layer of her suitcase, she’d nearly wept with joy—such a long-missed taste!
Mr. Pickled Mustard Tuber, how have you been lately? Your official CP instant noodles and ham sausage miss you very much!
This only precious packet—countless times when she’d lost her appetite she’d wanted to tear it open and devour it, and countless times she’d hesitated reluctantly. Many modern things, when brought to ancient times, seemed especially precious. Dahuang’s side dishes, perhaps due to soil quality, were mostly salty and bitter, far from comparable to even the simplest pickled mustard tuber made with modern techniques.
But taking it out to share with him made her feel it was put to its best use.
Gong Yin picked up a piece and slowly chewed. Jing Hengbo’s gaze burned as she tilted her head to stare at him, impatiently asking, “Is it good? Is it good?”
Gong Yin turned his head to look at her, seeing her eyes full of expectation, like black jade pupils shining brilliantly.
This was something she treasured greatly, wasn’t it? Perhaps there was only one portion. This greedy, lazy fellow often drew clear distinctions—for her to take out treasured things to share, they had to be very important in her heart, right?
He curved his lips, smelling the fresh, rich fragrance from her hair, feeling peaceful and pleased. He picked up a chopstick-full for her, saying, “Not bad. But I’m afraid of saltiness—you eat more.”
“Oh.” Jing Hengbo was somewhat regretful that the great god didn’t know how to appreciate pickled mustard tuber, but different people had different tastes, so there was nothing to be done.
“Shall we go out for a walk?” She held his arm making a request, her eyes flashing with hopeful light. “It’s rare to have a rest day.”
Gong Yin’s chopsticks paused, his first reaction was to refuse, but looking up to see her eyes, his heart immediately softened. Just as he was about to nod, his hand suddenly stopped.
Women in love are more sensitive than usual. Jing Hengbo immediately leaned over, “What’s wrong?”
Gong Yin picked up his porridge bowl, the bowl covering his chin. He quickly swallowed all the porridge in the bowl in one breath, put down his chopsticks, saying, “I still have business. Go by yourself. Don’t sneak out again—let Yu Chun follow you.”
“Oh.” Jing Hengbo was too stunned to feel disappointed, staring dumbfounded at his porridge-drinking posture. The great god always ate in a refined and elegant manner, small bites and slow chewing. When had he ever wolfed down food like this?
“What’s so urgent?” She felt a bit sorry for him, reaching out to pat his back, “Take it slowly, don’t choke.”
Gong Yin dodged sideways, avoiding her patting. When she looked up to see him, he suddenly reached out to touch her head, pressing her head down.
“Something urgent. If you go out of the palace, just go out. Don’t meddle in affairs again—it doesn’t matter to you how many people die. If anything else happens, you’ll never be allowed out of the palace again.”
“Hmph.” Jing Hengbo as usual sneered at such domineering tone, but didn’t argue back, her lips curved in warm smile.
Gong Yin had long known her contrary nature. His hand slid reluctantly down from her hair. Standing up, he picked up his own bowl and handed it to a palace servant to wash.
Jing Hengbo was still dealing with her porridge, smiling, “Why such a rush? Wait for mine and wash them together…”
Gong Yin paused without speaking, his gaze falling into his own bowl.
The porridge was finished, leaving only a little at the bottom, faintly showing pale pink.
He wondered if it was the reflection of a magnolia flower overhead.
…
After eating, Jing Hengbo left the palace. As usual, she brought Zirui and Yong Xue.
She generally chose people by intuition, and her intuition was that these two were reliable. As for Jing Jun, she felt the sickly beauty had too many thoughts, and Cui Jie, formerly a tomboy, was now gradually developing more complex thoughts too. Since that was the case, let them think things through themselves.
Jing Hengbo was somewhat worried—she felt she didn’t have enough people.
Fortunately, she didn’t plan to build any commercial empire now, just wanted to earn more and start more businesses as support for her future. After all, having money and people meant more ways to survive—nothing could be done without money.
The first thing upon leaving was to head straight to the shop Zirui had scouted for her a few days ago. She wanted to open a portrait studio.
This portrait studio differed from ordinary shop requirements. She didn’t plan to open in a bustling marketplace crowded with people. On the contrary, her requirements were quiet, secluded, with class—preferably near the residential areas of court officials’ deep mansions, like Gongde Ward and Xige Ward where ministers gathered.
Photo paper was irreplaceable, each sheet precious. So this portrait studio took a completely high-end route, equivalent to antique shops—rarely opening for business, but when they did, earning enough for three years. It didn’t need to serve commoners. Opening in a marketplace where peddlers and laborers could run in to gawk would make those status-conscious lords and ladies feel it lowered their dignity—who would still be willing to come?
So the house purchased wasn’t just a small room either. Zirui had her eye on a three-courtyard residence in Xige Ward that had belonged to a former physician. That physician had been demoted and left the capital, and the courtyard was bought by a nearby minister but left unused. The courtyard had thousands of bamboo poles, lush and dense, with blue stone paths and winding streams—meeting Jing Hengbo’s requirements for “artistic conception, atmosphere, and naturally good lighting.” The price was just steep. Jing Hengbo had taken out all the emeralds she’d painstakingly brought back from Da Yan, but was still short. Today’s visit was to haggle over the price.
Jing Hengbo sighed in the carriage—living in Imperial Song was truly difficult. Dahuang had too many gems, so even emeralds weren’t as valuable as in Da Yan, let alone compared to modern times. Her original thought of carrying countless villas around the world was pure fantasy. Actually, that value converted to modern terms was probably equivalent to a toilet in a major city.
Getting in the carriage, she was grimly calculating on her fingers how to negotiate the price when she saw Zirui climb up smiling, waving an envelope, saying, “Your Majesty, it seems your eloquence will have no use today.”
“Oh?” She took it, opened the envelope, and pulled out a stack of bank notes. Having been here a while, she recognized these things, but the numbers on them made her afraid to recognize them. She stared for a long time, counting with her finger one by one, “One, two, three, four, five… Wow, highest denomination, wow so many sheets, wow! Where did this come from? Did you print them yourself? Is it illegal? They look just like real ones!”
“They are real. This servant doesn’t have such great ability.” Zirui smiled with pursed lips. “Just before getting in the carriage, Yu Chun gave them to me. He said the State Preceptor said that according to Dahuang law, those who report treason truthfully have great merit to the nation and by law receive one-fifth of the traitor’s family property. This is one-fifth of the Sang family’s liquidated property that now belongs to you.”
“Aha, there’s such a rule!” Jing Hengbo was overjoyed, grabbing the bank notes and rustling through them. It was truly like getting a pillow when sleepy, money falling from the sky when broke!
Why be polite? Take it, take it—using money given by that male scoundrel was perfectly justified.
“The pile of dog shit that is Dahuang law has this one good provision,” Jing Hengbo loudly praised while lying down with the bank notes as a pillow.
“It’s like this, Your Majesty,” Yu Chun’s fat head suddenly poked in, saying quite intelligently, “This law provision was just proposed and hasn’t officially passed yet. But the State Preceptor said whether it passes or not, it must pass, just like that.”
…
At the former Remonstrance Minister’s courtyard in Gongde Ward, someone was also cleaning this morning, preparing for buyers to come view the property. A man in his thirties with a pale, beardless face stood at the threshold, listening to the steward’s report.
“Someone wants to buy this courtyard?” He nodded, surveying the surroundings. “Sell it if possible. The location is a bit secluded, no good for business. It’s not large either, can’t accommodate officials’ grand arrangements. The lighting is also cold, doesn’t suit the gentlemen’s tastes. It’s been empty here for years. Better to sell early so Madam has another sum in her accounts.” After thinking, he added, “That said, the price needn’t be too cheap. If it’s too low, it would damage our Personnel Minister’s mansion’s reputation. Also, carefully investigate the other party’s background. If their origins are unclear and their temperament vulgar, we can’t sell either. Our Personnel Minister’s mansion can’t have such low-class people as neighbors.”
“Master Huang worries too much. The buyer clearly isn’t ordinary,” the steward smiled. “She’s a young lady with dignified bearing and exceptional beauty.”
The man’s departing footsteps stopped.
“A young lady?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Only brought a few servants. In these times, women who need to show their faces in public are mostly from families with no male support.”
“Beautiful?”
“Truly dignified, especially outstanding temperament and extremely good upbringing. Really rare to see.”
The man stopped moving.
“I’ll stay to take a look. See what kind of person she is,” he said.
The steward tactfully withdrew.
Everyone knew the Personnel Minister’s mansion had recently been looking for respectable women.
The steward quietly shook his head and curled his lip—the Personnel Minister’s mansion! Such a grand estate, such a high official’s residence. Unless you were inside, who would know the filthy rot beneath the noble exterior? The master was someone who didn’t handle affairs but was lustful, the mistress was terribly stingy, the various concubines below each grabbed money for themselves, and there was a sickly young master who constantly sought people to “bring good luck.” Every year several maids died from the mistress’s abuse or the young master’s “luck-bringing.” Their reputation was so bad that when the mistress wanted to find a respectable concubine for the master to draw his heart back from the women outside, no family was willing to agree.
It seemed this distant nephew of the mistress who had come seeking refuge, newly appointed as third-rank steward of the estate, was eager to achieve merit before the mistress and was planning to solve this problem for her?
The steward watching this courtyard thought of Xia Zirui’s impressive bearing when she came to discuss business that day, then thought of his own niece who had once been bullied to death, and coldly shook his head, deciding not to warn Master Huang about this matter.
Whoever wanted to commit evil should bear the consequences themselves!