Returning to Qingyi Pavilion, Zhao Hanzhang finally found the previously elusive Chengbo, who immediately tried to kneel upon seeing her.
Zhao Hanzhang saw his exhausted expression—as if he had aged ten years overnight—and quickly reached out to support him, pointing to the low table’s opposite wooden couch. “Chengbo, please sit and talk. Have something to eat and warm your stomach.”
She turned to instruct Ting He: “Go serve another bowl of plain congee.”
“Yes.”
Seeing she was only eating a bowl of plain congee without even a small dish of vegetables, Chengbo couldn’t help sighing. “Sanniang, please don’t grieve excessively. Erniang and Erlang still depend on you.”
“I don’t have much appetite either,” Zhao Hanzhang said. “Our main branch’s personnel arrangements…”
“Everything follows my lady’s prior arrangements. Qingyi Pavilion and Song’an Courtyard have been completely staffed with our people. They’re all on the dowry escort list—utterly loyal. The others have been reassigned to the front under the pretext of managing funeral arrangements.”
Song’an Courtyard was where Wang Shi lived. Zhao Erlang still resided in Zhao Hanzhang’s side chambers. As long as they controlled these two courtyards, the mother and children’s safety would be secure.
Zhao Hanzhang nodded slightly. “We also can’t lose the west corner gate. Everyone along the route must be our people.”
“Yes, this slave knows. That’s my lady’s connection to the outside.”
Chengbo paused. “The Second Old Master’s meaning is that the current priority is properly conducting the master’s funeral. Other matters can wait until after.”
Zhao Hanzhang raised an eyebrow. “What does this mean?”
Chengbo considered his words carefully. “From what the Second Old Master implied, Sanniang is in heavy mourning, so the marriage to the Fu family is a matter for three years hence. With me serving in the rear quarters being useless, he wants me to go to the heir’s side to help manage household affairs first.”
Zhao Changyu knew he couldn’t openly give Ji Yuan and Zhao Ju to Zhao Hanzhang—otherwise, even a fool would realize he had secretly left things for her. His brother was no fool.
So he never explicitly mentioned Ji Yuan and Zhao Ju’s disposition, though he had mentioned Chengbo’s.
Chengbo had previously been Zhao Changyu’s chief attendant. After aging, he became the Zhao family’s steward. He was Zhao Changyu’s confidant.
After Zhao Changyu’s wife died, Chengbo managed household affairs. Whether Wang Shi or Wu Shi, they only oversaw the rear quarters. Taking money required Chengbo’s approval.
It could be said that if anyone understood Zhao Changyu’s assets best, it was Chengbo—even Ji Yuan couldn’t compare.
But he was also the only person whose bond of servitude had always remained in Zhao Changyu’s hands. Before departing, Zhao Changyu gave the bond to Zhao Hanzhang, even leaving explicit instructions for Chengbo to follow her.
So now, Chengbo belonged to Zhao Hanzhang both nominally and actually.
Zhao Zhongyu was trying to poach her people.
She smiled slightly, telling Chengbo: “Don’t worry. Follow Uncle Shuzu’s instructions. The immediate priority is properly conducting Grandfather’s funeral.”
Seeing she had a plan, Chengbo breathed easier and said seriously: “Sanniang, dawn is approaching. Relatives and old friends coming to pay respects should arrive soon.”
Zhao Hanzhang nodded, finishing the congee in her bowl. After rinsing her mouth, she prepared to head to the mourning hall.
She had just reached the courtyard when she saw Fu Tinghan standing at the gate with his back to her, staring fixedly at something in the distance.
Zhao Hanzhang walked up. “What are you looking at?”
Fu Tinghan came to his senses and pointed to a distant flower bed. “All the flowers have fallen.”
Zhao Hanzhang looked over. The roses in the distance had dropped petals everywhere, even the branches and leaves looking withered. She studied them briefly before asking: “Have you eaten?”
Fu Tinghan nodded. “I have. People should start arriving at the front soon, so I came to find you.”
Zhao Hanzhang withdrew her gaze from the flowers and turned to leave. “Then let’s go.”
As she walked, Zhao Hanzhang instructed Ting He following behind: “Have someone watch these flowers. Investigate who approached them from yesterday to today.”
She wanted to see if this was natural or man-made.
Ting He acknowledged and stopped, waiting for them to walk away before turning back to find someone.
Zhao Hanzhang’s instruction didn’t avoid Fu Tinghan. He looked at her. “You suspect human intervention?”
Zhao Hanzhang rubbed her forehead. “Perhaps I’m being overly sensitive, but it’s better to be cautious.”
Fu Tinghan nodded.
“I have something to discuss with you.” Zhao Hanzhang stopped, looking at the mourning hall not far ahead.
Fu Tinghan also stopped to face her. “Go ahead.”
Zhao Hanzhang was direct. “Let’s marry during the hot mourning period.”
Fu Tinghan nearly choked on his own saliva. Eyes wide, he stared at Zhao Hanzhang, his ears turning completely red. “You… you’re serious?”
Zhao Hanzhang’s gaze swept across his ears and neck. She hadn’t expected him to be so easily embarrassed. She pondered this thoughtfully while maintaining an impassive expression. “This is the fastest and best way to legitimize the inheritance legally and reasonably. Of course, if you’re unwilling…”
“I’m willing,” Fu Tinghan cut off her words quickly, then, perhaps realizing his excessive urgency, paused and softened his tone. “Our wedding was supposed to be in June anyway. My family has made preparations. The betrothal gifts are ready. As long as we want to proceed, we can.”
“Moreover, weddings during hot mourning are simplified. Our previous preparations should suffice,” Fu Tinghan said. “When Grandfather arrives shortly, I’ll mention it to him.”
Zhao Hanzhang suddenly felt she might have made a mistake. Professor Fu was reacting like this—regardless of whether they could eventually return, their relationship probably couldn’t revert to what it was before.
She didn’t mind particularly—she was used to being unrefined—but she worried about wronging Professor Fu.
Fu Tinghan seemed to sense her hesitation. The heat in his ears diminished slightly as he said seriously: “Don’t overthink it. This is an expedient measure. In the future, if you want to…” He saw Chengbo standing nearby and swallowed the words “separate,” saying instead: “I’ll follow your lead entirely.”
Chengbo watched the two intently, thinking to himself: He didn’t know how Sanniang had managed it, but in such a short time she had made Young Master Fu so obedient.
Still, their Sanniang was very beautiful. Could Young Master Fu have been smitten at first sight?
But if he was so superficial, might he change his heart later?
Chengbo’s mind filled with thoughts and worries. Before he could sort them out, he saw Zhao Zhongyu and Zhao Ji approaching from across the way. He immediately lowered his eyes and quietly reminded the two conversing in low voices: “Sanniang, the Second Old Master and the heir are here.”
Zhao Hanzhang immediately composed herself, her expression turning solemn. She turned to face Zhao Zhongyu and Zhao Ji, bowing. “Uncle Shuzu, Uncle.”
Zhao Zhongyu nodded. Seeing her face still somewhat pale, he sighed. “Let’s go. The mourning hall is ready. People coming to pay condolences will arrive shortly.”
He looked at Fu Tinghan, his expression considerably warmer. “Changming, you’ve worked hard these past two days.”
Fu Tinghan glanced at Zhao Hanzhang before saying: “This is what a junior should do.”
Fu Tinghan didn’t treat himself as an outsider at all. Upon reaching the mourning hall, he stood at Zhao Hanzhang’s side, prepared to receive condolence visitors alongside her.
Zhao Changyu’s reputation and connections were both excellent. The main gate had barely opened when people arrived to pay respects. Seeing Zhao Hanzhang and her brother standing there, everyone sighed inwardly.
With Zhao Changyu’s death, the main branch of the Zhao family had essentially declined.