The following morning, Hua Zhi went to her grandmother’s room to share breakfast with her.
Her appetite had always been good, and now with so many things to attend to, the extra exertion meant she ate even more than usual. The Old Madam was swept up in her energy and ate a few extra bites herself.
Nanny Su brought over the rinsing water and smiled from the side: “This servant hopes that in the future, the First Young Miss will come often to eat with the Old Madam — perhaps she’ll eat a little more each time.”
“As long as Grandmother doesn’t mind how much I eat, I’m more than happy to come.” Hua Zhi sighed helplessly. “My maids have been spoiled rotten by me — they fuss over everything I eat and don’t eat. It’s nothing like here with you, Grandmother, where as long as I eat well, no one minds how I do it.”
“Then you’d best keep eating in your own room. I think those maids of yours are quite good — they know to keep their mistress in mind.”
The Old Madam teased her while casting her mind back over the morning’s dishes, privately relieved that she herself was an invalid — the foods prepared for her could contain nothing that might aggravate an illness, so there was no fear of breaking any dietary restrictions.
Grandmother and granddaughter chatted for a while before Hua Zhi brought up the matter at hand. “I asked around yesterday and found that only Master Mu is willing to continue coming to the Hua Family clan school. I was too naive.”
The Old Madam sighed. “I was already surprised that even one person — Master Mu — agreed to come. Honestly, I thought not a single soul would. To think that the Old Master did so much good in his life, and there is still someone who remembers it.”
“One teacher is far too few.” And of all people, it had to be Master Mu. Hua Zhi felt a dull ache in her head. Not long before the disaster, while playing chess with her grandfather, she had overheard him say that Master Mu had tendered his resignation and intended to return to his hometown. Of all the invitations she had sent out, she had been most certain he would decline — yet he turned out to be the only one who came.
“Let me think of something. If it truly comes to it, I’ll take on teaching myself.” Master Mu had come out of a sense of loyalty and righteousness — she could not in good conscience use that against him to keep him here. Someone else would have to take his place eventually. All she lacked was experience; with enough practice, she would manage.
The Old Madam started, then gave her a light tap and laughed. “Don’t talk nonsense. Your grandmother has lived all these years and has never once heard of a woman teacher.”
“I’m not talking nonsense. Everything a teacher knows, I know too. Grandfather used to test my studies all the time. I couldn’t teach the more advanced subjects, but some of the Thirteen Classics are within my reach. Besides, it isn’t as though I’d be leading someone else’s children astray.”
Hua Zhi was perfectly serious about this plan. Children in the Hua Family began their education at four and entered the clan school at six. When she counted up the children under ten years old from both the main and branch families combined, there were nearly thirty of them, each at a different age and stage of learning. One teacher would simply not be enough — she had no choice but to step in.
The Old Madam did not know what to say. She simply patted Hua Zhi’s hand and let the subject drift past.
Once Hua Zhi had left to attend to her duties, the Old Madam dissolved into a fit of coughing so violent it seemed to shake the heavens. Nanny Su caught sight of the small dark red stains on the handkerchief and her face went pale with fright, her eyes instantly reddening. “This servant will send for the physician at once!”
“No need.” The Old Madam gripped her hand and forced out those two words before another bout of coughing seized her. Nanny Su, eyes bright with tears, gently stroked her back over and over until the coughing finally eased.
After rinsing her mouth to clear away the taste of blood, the Old Madam lay back against the headboard, half-closing her eyes, her voice hoarse and quiet: “Keep your lips sealed. Not a word of this to anyone.”
“Old Madam!” Nanny Su wept openly, dropping to her knees beside the bed in desperate supplication. “You cannot keep forcing yourself on like this — it will not hold, it truly will not. Old Madam, this servant begs you, please think of the First Young Miss, think of this whole household…”
“Do you think Zhi’er doesn’t already know the state of my health? If she didn’t, she would never have taken all of this upon herself so completely. The arrangement for Physician Chu to visit every five days — she organized all of that. If I were merely a little ill, none of this would be necessary.”
The Old Madam’s expression was filled with a quiet grief. She was not without awareness — she simply dared not dwell on it too long. She feared she might not live to see the Old Master return. She feared the Hua Family would fall apart, that she would have no way to face the ancestors of the Hua clan.
And so, even if it meant burning herself down to the wick, she would hold on for a few more days. At the very least — at the very least — she would wait until Zhi’er had a firm and steady grip on the household before she allowed herself to finally let go.
Nanny Su wept until her face was streaked with tears. She who was capable and composed in all other matters was now utterly lost, with no idea what to do.
The Old Madam patted her hand. “Get up and keep me company for a while.”
Nanny Su perched on the edge of the round stool beside the bed, her sobs broken by small hiccups. “You should rest. We can talk after you’ve recovered your strength.”
“Talk with me first.” The Old Madam opened her eyes and looked up at the canopy above her. “Do you think Zhi’er meant what she said?”
Nanny Su was still caught up in her grief and could not immediately recall which words were meant.
“About becoming a teacher.”
Nanny Su dried her tears and thought it over. “This servant thinks she meant it. You don’t say something like that without the confidence to back it up.”
“I thought so too — it didn’t seem like she was joking. Back when I found out the Old Master had been taking her under his wing to teach her himself, I thought nothing of it. A daughter would marry into another family sooner or later — what use was scholarship to her? She wouldn’t be sitting the examinations. And later, when the other two girls in the household made names for themselves with their literary talents while she remained quiet and unassuming, I even teased the Old Master about it. Now that I think back on it, I feel such foolish embarrassment.”
The Old Madam let out a soft laugh, which immediately dissolved into another round of coughing. The exertion left her even more depleted than before, and as drowsiness pulled her under, she managed one last instruction: “Don’t let Zhi’er find out. Don’t interfere with the clan school. If anyone else causes trouble, use my name to bring them into line.”
“Yes. This servant understands.”
Listening to the labored rise and fall of her breathing, watching the uneven heaving of her chest, Nanny Su could no longer hold back her tears. She pressed both hands over her mouth and wept with silent, heartbroken anguish — not a sound escaping her lips.
Leaving her grandmother’s room, Hua Zhi went to look in on the clan school, which had already been tidied and set in order. Though the space was somewhat smaller than the old one, it carried much the same feel. At that hour, quite a few small children were already inside — some reading, some practicing their characters — and despite the complete absence of any adults, there was not a sound of noise or commotion.
Hua Zhi stood watching in silence, her gaze soft, a smile spreading slowly across her face.
These children were the Hua Family’s hope. The Hua Family’s future. As long as they flourished, how could the family ever fail to rise again?
All she needed to do was tend this soil — and let them grow strong.
She slipped away from the clan school quietly, and found Steward Xu already waiting outside. “First Young Miss.”
Hua Zhi gave a small nod. “Who has been managing the clan school lately?”
“In reply to the First Young Miss — the Sixth Young Master has.”
Hua Zhi was not surprised. It seemed Hua Bailin had taken her earlier words to heart, which explained why the school held not only children from the main family but a good number from the branch families as well.
“Make sure they never go without brush, ink, paper, or inkstone — use the best quality available. That is not an area to scrimp on. Also, go yourself to invite Master Mu and inform him that in three days, the Hua Family clan school will formally reopen.”
“Yes.”
“One more thing.” The covered walkway was open on all sides, with the breeze passing freely through. Hua Zhi paused and turned back. “On the day things went wrong at the manor, Chen Liang died protecting me. Does he have any family?”
Steward Xu hesitated for a moment, then recalled: “He has a younger brother and a younger sister. Back then, all three siblings had no way out — Chen Liang sold himself into the household’s service, but his brother and sister entered as free persons. They should both have families of their own by now.”
“Go and find out what kind of people they are. If they treated him well, tell them the truth of what happened and give them a generous sum. If they showed him little genuine affection, give them a smaller amount and tell them only that Chen Liang was sent out on an errand and could not return home — his grave will be tended by the Hua Family from here on.”
“Yes.”
“There is no need to inform Grandmother of this.”
“Yes.”
Back inside the side courtyard, Hua Zhi spread out paper and brush and wrote down a few lines. She blew gently on the still-drying ink, then looked up. “Ying Chun, Nian Qiu — I need you to quietly look into everyone on this list as soon as possible. I intend to put them to use.”
“Yes.”
The names on the list were people who had once served the Hua Family men now sent into exile — trusted managers who had handled much of the family’s commerce before the disaster. Their capabilities were beyond question. As long as their loyalty still held, they were exactly the kind of people Hua Zhi needed for the plan taking shape in her mind.
“I also need an external steward. Do either of you have someone suitable in mind?”
The maids had been trained by Hua Zhi since childhood and were well accustomed to how she operated. After running through the household’s people in their heads, the two of them conferred briefly before Ying Chun spoke: “We both think that Steward Xu’s son, Xu Jie, and Chen Liang would be most fitting.”
“Then let it be Chen Liang. Xu Jie — provided he handles the task I’ve given him well — will likely be spending most of his time outside from now on, managing the fruit and provision purchasing. Have Chen Liang come and see me.”
“Yes.”
By the time Chen Liang arrived, the tasks ahead had been sorted through. He bowed with a composed and unhurried propriety, and Hua Zhi began to understand why the two maids had chosen him.
“Chen Liang, are you familiar with Green Moss Lane?”
“Yes, I know a little of it.”
“Tell me what you know.”
Chen Liang organized his thoughts briefly before speaking: “Green Moss Lane has twenty-five storefronts and has long been known throughout the capital as a stretch of failing shops. Word has it the lane carries bad feng shui — something inauspicious — and over the years, no matter what trade is attempted there, the result is always loss.”
Hua Zhi gave a small nod. “Do you know where the problem lies?”
Chen Liang paused. It was an unexpected question, but he answered as thoroughly as he could. “In this servant’s view, the first problem is location. In front lies Sparrow Lane, which sits close to the main street and draws far more foot traffic — anyone looking to buy something will go there directly rather than venture down a dead-end alley to reach Green Moss Lane. Behind lies Eight Corner Lane, which runs alongside the inner river; fair weather or foul, people come there to stroll, and trade there does well enough. Green Moss Lane is hemmed in on both sides with nowhere to lean. On top of that, the shops have changed hands and trades so many times that customers have been turned away empty-handed too often — and so fewer and fewer bother to come at all.”
Hua Zhi was quite satisfied with Chen Liang. “You said ‘first,’ which implies there is more. Continue.”
“Yes.” Chen Liang swallowed to wet his throat. “The second problem is that those who set up shop there have chosen the wrong trades. A single lane where a funeral goods seller sits beside a clothing shop — even if the prices are cheaper, most people will not put up with that kind of bad omen for the sake of a small saving. The other shops are similarly scattered and inconsistent. With no clear character to the lane, there is nothing to draw customers in.”
“Are any of the storefronts for sale?”
“Yes — from what this servant understands, most of the owners are eager to be rid of them quickly. They just haven’t found any takers.”
“What sort of price are they asking?”
“Word is they’re cheaper than elsewhere, but this servant would need to look into the exact figures.”
“Then go and find out.”
“Yes.”
Chen Liang had no sooner left than Bao Chun could no longer hold back a laugh. “What a stiff block of wood he is.”
“That kind of person is quite good — steady and reliable.” Hua Zhi looked toward Nian Qiu. “How much usable silver do we have left?”
“There are the three thousand five hundred taels from the sale of the house, plus the nine hundred taels recovered from Chen Jin’s household. Our own gold bars remain untouched.”
“That should be enough.”
Ying Chun poured a little water into the inkstone and began grinding the ink. “Miss, are you thinking of buying storefronts in Green Moss Lane? From the sound of what Chen Liang said, the prices shouldn’t be too steep — purchasing a few shouldn’t require touching the gold bars.”
“I’m planning to buy all of them.”
Ying Chun’s hand slipped, and she ended up with ink smeared all over her fingers.
Nian Qiu asked in a rush: “All twenty-five?”
“Yes.” Hua Zhi handed Ying Chun a damp cloth. “Most people in business can’t stand having competitors nearby, but if you can actually concentrate the same trade in one place and build a real presence, that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”
Nian Qiu’s expression turned thoughtful. “It’s like when we want to buy rouge — the first place that comes to mind is that whole row of cosmetics shops on Wang Shui Street.”
“Exactly.” Hua Zhi gave an approving nod. “And that row only has six or seven shops. If I bought all twenty-five and filled them all with much the same kind of trade — what then?”
The maids exchanged glances. They all felt their mistress’s idea was awfully bold — twenty-five shops all selling the same thing. Wasn’t that a bit much? They’d just end up competing with themselves until there was nothing left!
But nothing the mistress had ever set out to do had gone undone. If she said she’d do it, then it would be done.
“Miss, what do you need us to do?”
Hua Zhi scanned the room and was unsurprised to find Fu Dong missing again — at this hour, she was no doubt busy in the kitchen.
“Did you enjoy the fried meatballs yesterday?”
All three nodded vigorously, their mouths already beginning to water at the thought of them.
“And the rice noodle rolls the day before?”
All three nodded again. The sound of them swallowing made Hua Zhi laugh. “Can you find any of these things outside?”
Of course not! All three understood at once what their mistress had in mind.
Over the years, the unique and delicious foods they had enjoyed together numbered far more than twenty-five dishes. Even with one dish per shop, every single one would surely turn a profit!
“Miss, it’s time for the meal…!” Fu Dong stepped into the room and was immediately met by several pairs of eyes gleaming with unsettling intensity. She startled, her steps faltering at the threshold, unsure whether to come in or back away.
Everyone shook themselves out of their reverie and hastened back to their tasks. Though the mistress and her maids did not eat at the same table, they ate the same food — just separately and at different times.
While the mistress rested, the maids ate their meal and kept turning things over in their minds. With Fu Dong’s cooking skills alone, one could open a proper restaurant.
Hua Zhi could see Fu Dong growing increasingly uneasy under the scrutiny, and bit back a laugh as she came to her rescue. “Fu Dong, I have a task for you.”
Fu Dong all but fled to stand before her mistress, setting down her bowl. “Yes, Miss?”
“I’d like you to write down all the dishes you’ve prepared over the years. Leave out anything that can already be found elsewhere.”
Fu Dong nodded and summarized: “Just the ones you pointed me toward, Miss.”
Hua Zhi smiled. “What did I ever point you toward? Every bit of it came from your own effort and ingenuity.”
Fu Dong shook her head stubbornly. “Without your guidance, I could never have thought of them, let alone made them.”
Hua Zhi did not argue with her. “Write them all down. We’ll go through them together afterward and decide which ones to put in the shops.”
“Yes.”
By the time Chen Liang returned, the sun had already begun its westward descent.
“This servant has made inquiries. The storefronts in Green Moss Lane have never been able to fetch a decent price. They should be acquirable for around a hundred and forty taels each.”
At the current prices in the Great Qing Dynasty, that was indeed quite low — the owners were clearly in a hurry to sell. Hua Zhi turned the matter over. “Are the shops all the same size?”
“This servant went to look in person this afternoon. All are roughly the same, with the exception of the innermost one — the one that backs onto the inner river — which is somewhat larger than the rest.”
The money on hand was sufficient, but purchasing the storefronts was only the beginning — a great many expenses still lay ahead.
Hua Zhi frowned. Unless absolutely necessary, she had no wish to touch the gold bars. They were the Hua Family’s last reserve.