He studied her for a moment. “Today’s events — do you think it was coincidence, or someone acting with deliberate intent?”
“Obviously Cheng Huaili and Lu Shouhuai and their lot acting with deliberate intent.” Chen Baoxiang brought it up and immediately seethed. “Even if I hadn’t gone to reinforce Guangxia Quarter, they would have kept forcing you to repeatedly dispatch patrol forces there — and then started fires within the patrol’s jurisdiction.”
The Patrol Camp was not under the Bureau of Works’ yamen. Once something went wrong, Zhang Zhixu would also be reported for abusing his dispatch authority.
“Very clever,” he said with a slight smile and a nod. “So then what are you upset about?”
“I’m not upset, I just thought of some old memories… never mind, you probably don’t want to hear about it.”
He pulled over his stool and sat beside her, cradling his teacup. “Tell me.”
Chen Baoxiang composed herself and gestured with her hands: “Back in our Sanxiang village, there was a man who had been blind in one eye since childhood. No one would hire him for work, so there seemed to be no way forward for him — but he was hardworking and enduring, willing to haul slop water in the city, do night watchman rounds, sweep the streets, whatever work there was. By the time he was in his twenties, he had finally scraped together a little money and was planning to return to the village to pay for his mother’s treatment.”
“But at the time, two powerful households had a falling out with each other — one claimed their home had been robbed, the other said their home had caught fire. Both families had considerable influence and couldn’t succeed in suing each other, so the magistrate, wanting to smooth things over, had the night watchman dragged out and beaten with the plank.”
“That beating was severe. Both his legs were left paralyzed. He was delayed in the city for half a month, and so his mother died without being saved — and he himself could only barely drag out his days.”
Chen Baoxiang tilted her head and smiled: “His entire life was ruined, yet it was like a water droplet falling into the sea — it stirred not a single ripple. Shangjing carried on as usual, and the magistrate who ordered his beating was even promoted afterward.”
The knuckles of Zhang Zhixu’s hands, cradling his teacup, trembled slightly.
He had grown up within a great family clan. The education he had received from childhood was in essence the principle that “great achievers do not dwell on minor details.”
In today’s matter, what he needed to do was break free of the other party’s trap — and once he successfully escaped it, the matter could be considered resolved.
As for what methods the other party had used, how many people had been caught in the crossfire — in truth, none of that had anything to do with him, and the blame would not fall on him.
But listening to the story Chen Baoxiang told, he suddenly felt himself transported into her body — a surging, rising tide of indignation and bitter resentment swelling in his chest.
Why? Why should other people’s entire lives be nothing more than casualties in the power struggles of the privileged? Why should people who could have lived perfectly well become shapeless ashes scattered beside the river in Xuanhe Quarter?
“I will avenge them,” he said after a long silence. “But before the culprit is brought to justice, what I can do is arrange for funds to be disbursed for the repair of their homes and funeral compensation — at most only at the allocation for a seventh-rank military officer. Anything higher would probably be difficult to—”
Before he could finish that sentence, Chen Baoxiang let out a cry of “Wow!” and threw her arms around his. “My immortal, you truly live up to being a compassionate, suffering-relieving celestial being!”
“Hmm?”
“Under normal circumstances, the authorities would never get involved in something like this — the people would only be able to chalk it up to their own bad fortune.” Her eyes shone bright as crystals. “But you’re actually willing to have their homes rebuilt, and willing to provide funeral compensation!”
Rebuilding homes in that area was no simple matter — even if the land was one’s own, just to proceed smoothly would require greasing palms on all sides, and a single house would run no less than one or two million cash.
And as for the burials — those people had seen their homes and belongings turned to ash overnight. To hold a proper ritual ceremony and bury their loved ones with due rites, they would likely have to sell themselves into bondage.
If the authorities were willing to handle all of this, it would truly be the greatest fortune within misfortune.
“I always said I needed to have a golden effigy made for you!” She happily ducked her head to rummage through her things.
Zhang Zhixu still hadn’t quite steadied his emotions, when he watched her suddenly produce a palm-sized carved wooden Buddhist figurine with a flourish, and present it to him like a prized treasure.
“How about it — I said I’d do it and I did, didn’t I?”
The golden-gleaming figurine stood in her palm, the craftsmanship not particularly refined, but clearly made with care — even the small pendant on the prayer beads had not been overlooked.
But upon closer inspection of the materials, Zhang Zhixu couldn’t help but laugh again: “You said you’d use gold, and yet you’ve gone and used gold foil again.”
“My immortal, you don’t understand — solid gold is so heavy, how tiring it would be to carry. Gold foil, on the other hand… it has the advantage of being lightweight.” Chen Baoxiang offered the explanation with some effort, placing the little figurine in his hand. “Look — does it look like you?”
The figurine was tiny and it was difficult to tell who it resembled, but Zhang Zhixu found it amusing all the same and turned it over, examining it from every angle: “Why is this hand stretched out like that?”
As if reaching out to clasp someone else’s hand.
“Ah, so you don’t understand?” She produced another wooden figurine and, grinning, brought the two carvings’ hands together. “This is called a ‘clasped-hand pair.’ One for each of us — so if I ever need you, I can call out to you through the figurine.”
Zhang Zhixu let out a startled cough.
If he truly were an immortal, the thing might actually work — but he wasn’t.
“This object… it doesn’t look like it has any magical power,” he said, feeling somewhat guilty.
“Of course it does!” Chen Baoxiang protested. “I requested this at the Azure Cloud Temple — the Daoist priest even consecrated it. He said it was the most efficacious and reliable kind, and it cost a full one hundred copper coins.”
She went to a Daoist temple to petition a Buddhist deity, and had it consecrated there?
Zhang Zhixu opened his mouth, then stopped himself, and finally pressed his hand to his forehead. “Forget it. Let’s eat dinner first.”
“I won’t be eating dinner with you tonight.” She rose to her feet. “Tonight is Young Master Pei’s birthday — there’s a banquet at Zhaixing Tower in the evening.”
Zhang Zhixu paused. His expression remained calm as he lowered his eyes. “You’re going?”
“Of course — he sent me an invitation.”
“…”
“My immortal, what’s wrong? Why does your face suddenly look so terrible?”
“It doesn’t. The sky outside has just grown dark,” he said coldly, rising to his feet. “Go on then. Have a thoroughly good time.”
“But my jewelry and headpieces are still at Xun Yuan and I haven’t brought them over.” She let out a sly chuckle. “I hear this Bright Pearl Tower has quite a few treasures — could you possibly…”
“No.”
“What? I’ll only borrow them for a bit and return them.”
“Borrowing doesn’t work either.” He narrowed his eyes toward the scenery outside the window. “If anything goes wrong, I can’t be held responsible.”
What a miser.
Chen Baoxiang pursed her lips. Seeing that the hour was already late, she didn’t continue to pester him, and skipped and bounced off to change her clothes.
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