Having slept so much during the day, she had no desire for sleep in the night — yet Gu Yanxi could not linger long.
Watching his figure disappear into the darkness, Hua Zhi turned back and saw the complicated expressions on the faces of her maids. She gave each of them a flick to the forehead. “Did you not know long ago? What are those looks for?”
“Your boldness is really something — never mind outsiders finding out, even the people in our own household would have something to say.”
“And what exactly would they say? Make me hand over the household keys? I would be more than willing — but would they dare take them?” Hua Zhi walked inside, her words even more unbridled now. She truly was not afraid. When she chose to keep her head down, people could do as they liked with her — she would simply watch it all as an entertaining performance. But that did not mean she would tolerate anyone climbing over her head. In all her years at the Hua family, she had never been unremarkable nor held in much regard by the sisters in the household — yet not once in all those years had anyone ever gotten the better of her, even if they had never noticed.
Not to mention that the Hua family’s current circumstances depended on her greatly. Even if they knew about her and Yanxi, they would do nothing more than mutter behind her back — and even that would have to be done out of her earshot. There was an ugly, base instinct in human nature to bully the weak, and it showed itself in every conceivable way.
Forced by the ways of the world to conduct a romance in secret, never able to let it be seen — Hua Zhi had a few feelings about that.
“Besides, there are things they likely already know but simply do not say aloud.” Hua Zhi took a sip of tea and looked toward Yingchun. “Has Bolin sent any letters?”
“He has. Master Wang delivered them.” Yingchun hurried to the head of the bed and drew three letters from the cabinet. Judging by the handwriting, each of the three young ones had written a separate letter. Hua Zhi could not help but smile — why had they not just put them all in one envelope? Could it be they each had little secrets they could not let the other two know?
With that thought, she broke the seals and read through them one by one. The stern expression that had been on her face moments before was entirely gone, replaced by a softness that spread through her whole person.
The three letters each had their own distinct character. Bolin was the most spirited — his writing leapt and danced, as though he wanted to record every single thing he had seen along the way, interspersed with observations of his own. He had written a full ten pages, his envelope stuffed so full it was nearly bursting.
Shu’an was the most rigorous — he approached this journey with the attitude of a scholar, his words carefully restrained. Toward the end, he even posed several questions, apparently treating her as a teacher.
Xiao Liu was the most serious. It was as though someone had given him a growth elixir — in such a short time, he had already shed the mindset of a child. And because he was an imperial prince, he was born with a lofty perspective, tending naturally to view things from above. Comparing what he had seen and heard in person against what was written in books and taught by great scholars, his doubts, his confusion, his indignation were all woven through every word.
Hua Zhi wrote back to Bolin first. She did not try to suppress his nature or force him to become any particular kind of person — she offered some encouragement in her words and left it at that. That child was clever; he would find his own way in time. He simply needed a little more of it — and at eleven years old, time was the one thing he had in abundance.
For Shu’an, she answered his questions and added a few words of affirmation — that was enough. What he lacked was confidence.
The most difficult to reply to was Xiao Liu’s. Hua Zhi considered every word and sentence with great care. She needed to guide him toward seeing more of the positive, to resolve his doubts and confusion, to tell him that water too clear holds no fish, to explain the necessary tolerance of a capable official’s shortcomings even when accompanied by greed — and so on. The time she spent on his letter alone was far greater than the first two combined.
Yet she had patience in full. These children had grown up before her very eyes — naturally they were different to her.
She packed each of the three letters into separate envelopes, planning to hand them to Wang Rong the next day. No channel was as secure as the Qisu Division, and though she had written nothing that could not be seen by others, the letter she had written to Xiao Liu was best kept out of certain people’s hands.
She drank another sip of tea and turned her attention at last to other matters. “How are things in Liyun Lane?”
“As per your instructions, the shopfront facing the river has been cleared out. The renovations have been done to match Lütai Lane exactly. It has been ready for about ten days now, but since you came back a little late, we have held off on opening.”
“Are everyone’s skills well-practiced?”
“Yes, they have all passed Fudong’s inspection.”
“Then there is no need to pick an auspicious day — just make sure nothing clashes, and open as soon as possible.”
“Yes.”
Early the next morning, Hua Zhi set out with her maids to go and see the seafood hall she and the others had built together.
The address was not far from the food pavilion — just a street away. Taking a shortcut, it was less than a quarter of an hour on foot. Fudong had received word earlier and was already waiting there. When she saw the carriage pull up, she stepped forward to assist her young miss in stepping down.
Supported by Fudong’s arm, Hua Zhi looked up to take in the busy street. Though not a main thoroughfare, this street was lined with shops owing to its proximity to the South City Gate — mostly inns and taverns — and it suited the seafood hall perfectly.
The food pavilion sought elegance and exclusivity, drawing money from the purses of noble houses. Without a reservation, there was no getting in, and at some point, noble families had taken to arranging meetings there as a matter of habit. Its position in the market was, it could be said, a tremendous success.
This seafood venture, however, Hua Zhi intended to run along a middle-market line — drawing silver from the purses of wealthy merchants. For that positioning, the place need not be too grand, and this location was well-chosen.
She turned and stepped inside. The first thing that met the eye was an arrangement of fresh, lively folding screens interspersed with pots of greenery, dividing the tables from one another and giving each a degree of privacy. One could gnaw on a crab with both hands and not fear being seen by others and losing face.
On the left-hand side was the counter, currently still empty inside, with the staircase up to the second floor on the counter’s side — neatly tucked beneath the stairs. The space had been made good use of.
The second floor was somewhat airier than the first — no screens blocking the sightlines — arranged instead into separate partitioned booths. As long as one stayed seated, neither table could see the other. Each area was similarly decorated with greenery, and there were several private rooms with curtains drawn across their entrances, though no solid closing doors had been installed.
The group then went to the kitchen. In the courtyard leading to it, a number of open-topped glass display cases had been arranged neatly along the walls. When the shipment arrived, seafood samples would be set out there for the guests to choose from.
The kitchen’s stoves were orderly and proper, and most equipment was already in place. Hua Zhi looked it over and stepped back out. “It feels fairly spacious. The second floor, leave as is. On the first floor, clear out a few tables — spread the space out a little more, it looks too cramped. Fudong, take charge of the kitchen side yourself — whatever is needed, add it as you see fit. As for the other details, go through them among yourselves. The ships probably will not arrive before early September at the earliest, so there is still time.”
“Yes.” The maids exchanged a glance and let out a collective breath of relief. Their young miss gave authority freely, but they had been terrified of doing it wrong — these past days they had barely been able to sleep soundly.
“How are things at the food pavilion?”
This was most fittingly answered by Fudong. Though she had taken on a great deal by now, she looked no different than before — still shy, still quiet, still attentive only to her young miss and to food, still inclined to keep her head low. “Business is very good. The reservation list for guests has already been filled two months out. The mushroom banquet has been the most popular.”