Though Mo Zi sighed, after sighing she said, “Therefore, we women must strive for ourselves. Hua Mulan served in the army in her father’s place, but wasn’t that also born from that determination to compete with men? Miss’s marriage—I don’t see it as brewing wine.”
“Then what is it?” Qiu Sanniang became interested, stopped flipping through the account book, and looked at Mo Zi with a smile.
“…” Wanting to find a suitable phrase, in the end she said, “Hanging a sheep’s head while selling dog meat?”
Hearing this, Qiu Sanniang was both annoyed and amused. “What?” That didn’t fit at all.
Mo Zi herself also felt it was pure nonsense, so she explained it this way: “We’re borrowing the title of Prince Jing’s mansion’s Third Young Madam, then using Prince Jing’s mansion’s access to the Emperor to start a business and make big money. Meanwhile, Prince Jing’s mansion wants to use Miss’s status as the proper wife to suppress that younger one, or perhaps help Third Young Master Xiao. This should be a mutually beneficial relationship. As for brewing wine—even if Miss were willing, Bai He and Lu Ju wouldn’t be willing.”
Xiao Yi outside coughed once and stuck her head in. “I’m not willing either.”
Qiu Sanniang clicked her tongue. “This girl has some ears—it’s noisy outside but quiet inside, yet she still hears every word without missing any.”
“If Miss has nothing to do in her daily life and has free time, brewing some wine to pass the time playing around—that would be fine.” Mo Zi made a face at Xiao Yi. “Right, Xiao Yi?”
Xiao Yi’s eyeballs rolled in a circle. “Brew fruit wine. I can be responsible for picking.”
This one must have been a monkey in her past life. All day long, being a chivalrous hero carrying out heaven’s will, her only pursuit was climbing up and scrambling down, challenging different heights.
Qiu Sanniang was amused and laughed for quite a while until her stomach hurt and she couldn’t laugh anymore.
Only then did Mo Zi ask, “Miss, where exactly are we going?”
Qiu Sanniang didn’t answer immediately. She pulled out a long wooden box from the bag beside her and handed it to Mo Zi. “Look for yourself.”
Mo Zi, full of questions, opened it to look. Inside was a rolled-up sheet of paper. Written on it was a certain year in the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches cycle, a certain seasonal month, a certain auspicious day—at a certain place outside the capital city, a piece of land named Hongyu Hollow belonging to a certain Qiu Someone—a land deed.
“When is this land deed from? The paper has yellowed.” Fortunately it was well preserved, lined with thick paper and stored in a dry wooden box, so the writing was still legible. As for the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches, she couldn’t quite figure out which year was which year.
“Probably from a hundred years ago. Which specific Zhou Emperor—don’t ask me.” Qiu Sanniang also didn’t care about politics.
“A hundred years ago?” An antique! Mo Zi blurted out without thinking, “Was it Empress Zetian?”
“If not her, then Songyuan Emperor.” Qiu Sanniang couldn’t be certain.
Songyuan Emperor was the first Wu surname descendant to seize the imperial throne after Wu Zetian’s death. According to Great Zhou’s historical records, Songyuan Emperor was a late bloomer—before age ten, he was the slowest among his brothers at studying and martial arts. After age ten, his wisdom roots finally opened, and he was outstanding in both civil and military strategies. A major reason Li and Wu clans fell into chaos after Wu Zetian’s death was because of this Songyuan Emperor. He ultimately used extraordinary strategies and troops to unify the realm, continuing the dynastic title as Zhou. Unfortunately, he reigned only eleven years and died at just thirty-five years old. His strategies for stabilizing the country, employing people, and foreign relations are still praised today. People widely lament his early death—otherwise he could have cultivated good successors, foolish rulers wouldn’t have appeared later, and Great Zhou wouldn’t have divided into four kingdoms.
Regarding this Songyuan Emperor, Mo Zi had once been very curious, thinking he was a time traveler. Otherwise, how could someone who seemed mentally slow before age ten become a genius after ten? But searching through historical records, the military tactics and weapons Songyuan Emperor used had absolutely no innovations. No large items. No small items either. She had carefully observed everyday items—not a hint of any innovation. Finally, she could only believe that Songyuan Emperor might have hit his head and truly had an epiphany. Otherwise, he should have invented at least one thing—toilet paper. She was a maid without capital to manufacture this, so although she’d thought about it, she never truly put it into action.
“Then this certain Qiu Someone is—” Mo Zi still hadn’t figured it out.
“Father said, that was my great-great-great—” How many “greats,” Qiu Sanniang was too lazy to count. “Anyway, it’s the ancestor from a hundred years ago when the Qiu family made its fortune.”
Mo Zi’s eyes brightened. When ordinary people spoke of things left by ancestors, those were family heirlooms. Although it wasn’t her ancestor, perhaps she could also benefit from some treasure energy. Moreover, a treasure for making a fortune! Jinling had a treasure-gathering basin—what did the capital have?
Qiu Sanniang saw Mo Zi’s expression and also smiled, saying, “I knew you’d think the same as me. This time I’m getting married, Zhang Shi wouldn’t even give me a piece of land, let alone shops or storefronts. My father feels sorry for me, so he privately slipped me this land deed that’s been passed down in the Qiu family for a hundred years, saying it’s an absolutely, absolutely unsellable treasure. I’m guessing this Hongyu Hollow has at least a thousand mu of good farmland, bigger than all the estates Zhang Shi grabbed away. Besides, it’s ancestral property. No matter what, it can’t be too bad.”
Indeed, Hongyu Hollow—just hearing the name, it sounded very large. Mo Zi nodded, agreeing with Qiu Sanniang’s words.
“As you said, the day after tomorrow I’ll be married in. I’m not clear about the situation inside. I estimate I won’t be able to leave for ten days to half a month, so while we’re out today, I’ll look at this land as well. See how big it actually is, what’s currently planted, how many people the estate employs, and who’s in charge. I also need to let them know that I’m now the land’s owner—how the accounts are kept, how much profit there is, and how silver is delivered, all these things. Everything must be crystal clear. I’m not as easy to fool as my father.”
“How does Miss know they fooled Master?” Mo Zi didn’t understand.
“I’ve managed account books for my father. I know his private assets inside and out, but there’s never been any accounting for this Hongyu Hollow—not losses, not profits, not a single book. Most likely it’s descendants left behind by ancestors who think that after so much time, the land belongs to them.”
Mo Zi frowned. “That kind of thing is possible. However, since Master gave you the land deed, he shouldn’t also be throwing such a big problem at you, right?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps my father couldn’t give me anything else. It might be troublesome, but with the land deed in my hands, even going to court I’d win for sure. I’m not afraid of trouble—I’m only afraid of losing income.” Qiu Sanniang had two estates in her hands, with annual net profits of three thousand taels from fertile fields, orchards, and fisheries. They weren’t in the capital but weren’t far either—seven or eight days by carriage.
They rode swiftly out the East City Gate and deviated from the official road. The scenery before them changed. Distant mountains and nearby waters, rice paddies newly green, rapeseed flowers golden yellow. Just past noon, blue smoke rose straight from every household. Several swallows, with each cut and flap, skimmed the water when low, entered clouds when high. Everything was clear and crisp, like a landscape painting.
Half an hour after entering the pastoral village cottages, the carriage stopped.
Xiao Yi stuck her head in again, saying, “The driver doesn’t recognize the road and went to find someone to ask.”
Qiu Sanniang acknowledged, her eyes not leaving the account book.
Mo Zi looked outside and saw a farm woman carrying a food basket, calling her husband and children from atop a dirt ridge. The family sat in the field, backs to heaven, facing earth. The large steamed buns, the gulping of rice, a green onion and an egg mixed with sauce whose name she couldn’t identify—they ate so fragrant. She could be certain that the wine this farm woman brewed wouldn’t be bitter. Even if it truly was bitter, she had her husband and children to drink it together, so even bitterness would be sweet.
She watched so entranced that it wasn’t until the carriage started moving again that rows of rice seedlings completely obscured those three figures.
“Why is it getting more desolate the further we go?” Qiu Sanniang finally finished reading all the small account books she’d brought, rubbed her eyes, pounded her legs, and noticed the abnormality outside.
Mo Zi made a sound of acknowledgment. Really—the green fields, fish ponds, and village cottages had all withdrawn from that clear and crisp picture. Wild grass as tall as a person, gray stones standing isolated, so wild, so unrestrained, towering between heaven and earth, rendered in thick ink.
A damp water smell in the air suddenly flooded into her sense of smell—those were tiny molecules leaping up from river water.
“There’s a river nearby.” She said.
“A river?” Qiu Sanniang remembered. “Outside the East City Gate, it should be the Ya River.”
As soon as Qiu Sanniang finished speaking, the carriage rounded a malnourished little dirt slope and stopped.
“Don’t tell me he doesn’t recognize the road again?” This time Qiu Sanniang frowned a bit. “Wild grass growing thick on both sides—where can we find someone to ask again? Really, most likely he asked the wrong person earlier and took the wrong road.” She was about to call Xiao Yi.
But Xiao Yi had already lifted the carriage door curtain and said softly, “Young Miss, we’ve arrived.”
“What? Arrived?” Qiu Sanniang was so surprised she couldn’t believe it. She sat upright and looked out both side windows. Her gaze through the small square lattices couldn’t see very far—everything was blocked by wild grass and low trees.
“Miss, let’s get out and look.” Though her mind couldn’t sketch out the scene of “a thousand mu of good farmland” that Qiu Sanniang had described earlier, Mo Zi still believed in seeing with her own eyes.
She stood up first, bent over to exit, and jumped down from the carriage. Looking all around, she finally had an impression—six characters most classic:
Withered vines, old trees, crows at dusk.
In a large expanse of green wild grass, one charred and withered big willow tree. Two crows with jet-black feathers, seeing people arrive, cawed and flapped their wings but weren’t particularly frightened.
Qiu Sanniang’s beautiful distant mountain eyebrows had moved into caterpillar shapes. She stood by the driver’s seat, her eyes full of complete disbelief. Xiao Yi brought over a stepping stool for her, but she didn’t even have the intention of letting her feet touch the ground.
“Mo Zi.” The Qiu family’s ancestral property—it turned out it wasn’t that someone had embezzled it, but that it had become desolate. Possibly desolate for nearly a hundred years. The land deed her father treasured, when he took it out to give to her, he was still hesitant. No wonder! She had thought it was because her father was reluctant to give it, but actually he was too embarrassed to give it.
“Yes, Master.” But Mo Zi didn’t share Qiu Sanniang’s disappointment. Her adaptability to environments was astonishingly fast, and once out of the carriage, in front of the driver, her form of address for Qiu Sanniang had already changed.
“Go ahead and see if there are any households. If there are, ask if we’ve come to the wrong place.” Qiu Sanniang had already lost confidence in that seemingly slow-witted driver, so she wanted to send a capable person.
“I didn’t get it wrong. The person I asked just now said that past the little dirt slope, you can see a hollow by the river—” The driver was very indignant. “Oh right, and that withered tree—that person said it was charred by lightning. The stone marker is at—” Shaking his head and looking around, then he extended his hand pointing at a spot three zhang ahead.
Mo Zi, being closest, walked over, turned the fallen stone marker face up, and pulled up a handful of grass to wipe off the mud on it. The three characters’ original vermillion red color had faded with strokes scattered here and there, but the carving was very clear. She read aloud for Qiu Sanniang to hear clearly:
“Hongyu Hollow.”