Chapter 57: A Figure From a Painting

Chapter 57: A Figure From a Painting

Zhou Ergou gathered his qi in his dantian and let out a roar that would shake even Iron Mountain.

Xianjin raised her eyes to see a shadow on the wall tremble, then a hunched-over woman timidly emerged from around the corner.

The woman was dressed simply.

No, "simply" was too generous.

She was impoverished.

Despite the lingering cold of early February, she wore a coarse linen jacket with patches at the shoulders and cuffs that matched the color of her clothes. Perhaps this was her first visit to a place like Chen's, for she seemed to want nothing more than to curl up like a hunched river shrimp, yet she struggled to straighten her back. "I... Is this Chen's? I... I'm looking for Master He..."

Xianjin peeked and noticed a small child, around seven or eight years old, trailing behind the woman. Her right hand tightly held the child’s, and her straightened back was an effort to preserve the last vestiges of dignity for her young one.

Zhou Ergou was taken aback, deeply regretting his earlier actions. Why had he frightened this widow and orphan?

—To the point where, if he recalled it at night, he'd sit up and slap himself.

Xianjin gave Zhou Ergou a disapproving glance before cheerfully responding, "Yes!" She wiped her hands on the apron around her waist and approached the woman with a warm smile. "This is Chen's Paper Shop. Please, have a seat!"

A clear space had been made in the shop, just large enough for a square table and four pear-wood stools. Beside the stools stood a lush bamboo plant and a three-legged stand holding a bright white-glazed vase with two handles, inside which were several sprigs of bright yellow winter jasmine—finally, the shop had a proper reception area.

The woman followed Xianjin nervously, glancing at the table and stools, as well as the bamboo and porcelain, and hesitated to sit down. Instead, she stood behind the chair, still tightly holding her child's hand.

Xianjin stood beside her, naturally pouring her a cup of tea and handing it over. "It's late, so I didn't make strong tea. Just a few leaves with a bit of honey. Please try it. Do you like it?"

The woman's shoulder was stained with fresh red dye, and her cuffs were a mix of blue, black, and indigo. The hem of her skirt was damp—she must have come directly from work at the dye house.

Worried that she hadn’t eaten dinner, Xianjin added some honey water to help fill her stomach.

The woman instinctively waved her hand. "No... No, thank you."

Xianjin didn’t insist, instead smiling as she placed the teacup on the table. "Are you here to buy paper? Or looking for someone?"

The woman pulled the child forward, her lips tightly pursed. As she pushed the child ahead, she stammered, "We... We came to thank Master Chen..."

Xianjin was surprised.

The woman quickly explained, "My son studies at Qingcheng Mountain Courtyard. Yesterday, he brought home a notebook that looked very expensive... I thought he had stolen it and beat him severely. Later, he told me that he wrote something for Chen's Paper Shop—a beginner’s template—and they gave him a reward..."

"We may not understand much, but we know that our Jiu'er’s handwriting isn’t worth much; Chen's paper is valuable."

"Chen's is doing good deeds..."

The woman poked the child’s back and whispered, "Thank the master."

The child, pushed to the front by his mother, kept his head down, his ears red. With difficulty, he managed to say, "Junning thanks the master..."

He prepared to bow, lifting his shirt and clasping his hands, bowing deeply to Xianjin three times.

It happened so fast that Xianjin couldn’t avoid it.

Xianjin was speechless.

She had only seen this as a business transaction, a way to boost sales... Her mind was filled with thoughts of using this opportunity to strengthen the relationship between Chen's and Qingcheng Mountain Courtyard...

If there was a true gentleman, it was Qiao Shanchang.

He was the truly compassionate one, the one who genuinely considered the weak and respected their freedom.

And she...

Xianjin smiled bitterly. She was just a merchant, unworthy of these bows.

She tucked her neatly arranged hair behind her ear and hurriedly helped the child up, feeling as though she had received undeserved praise. "You're too kind. It's just a writing practice book. How can it deserve such gratitude from a student? If you really want to thank someone, thank Qiao Shanchang. It was his permission that allowed Chen's to print 'Qingcheng Mountain Courtyard' on the cover, making these practice books possible..."

The woman paused, then firmly shook her head. "No, no—Qiao Shanchang is a good person, and you are a good person! Someone who pays real money is certainly a good person!"

A very simple view of good and evil.

Xianjin didn’t know how to respond.

The woman smiled, deeply moved. "Regardless of that, this is the first time Jiu'er has written on such good paper—the ordinary kind is already expensive, eight cash for ten sheets, and you need to buy a hundred sheets at once! Qingcheng Mountain Courtyard provides food, clothes, and tools for writing, but practicing calligraphy has no set limit. You can dilute the ink and use a frayed brush, but you can’t do anything about the paper."

"Jiu'er practiced on the sandy ground, using twigs as pens. After practicing, he would smooth out the sand and start again..."

The woman crouched and gestured. "He crouched like this, his little bottom sticking up. His knees became hard from kneeling every day, and every night, he would lie on my lap, asking me to massage his sore knees..."

Embarrassed by his mother’s unrefined words and exposed hardened knees, Du Junning tugged at her sleeve, urging her to be mindful of her language.

The woman turned away to wipe her eyes, then quickly faced Xianjin again, sniffling. "We really must thank you! Thank you so much!"

Xianjin felt as though a thick stone wall in her heart was being slowly eroded by the insects of bewilderment and panic. She sighed softly, picked up the cup of honey water, and felt its warmth. Then, she stubbornly handed it to the woman. "I accept your gratitude. Have you eaten? Please drink something sweet to soothe your stomach. Another day, during daylight, I’ll invite you for a proper cup of tea."

Xianjin wanted to continue speaking when a tall, slender figure appeared around the corner.

"Still working late?"

It was Chen Jianfang, likely curious why the lights at Chen's were still on.

Xianjin replied, "We’re almost closing. A junior from Qingcheng Mountain Courtyard came to visit the shop."

At the sound of Chen Jianfang's voice, Du Junning looked up abruptly, his small eyes wide with admiration as he said timidly, "A-Are you... Scholar Chen?"

Chen Jianfang's gaze fell on the little boy, and he smiled warmly. "Yes, it's me."

He then asked, "Are you from Gongjia Class?"

Du Junning nodded hastily.

Chen Jianfang smiled kindly. "I remember that today, Gongjia Class was learning the Six Records of Enlightenment? The teacher assigned several passages to copy and recite. Have you finished your homework, little junior? I think the teacher mentioned there would be spot checks tomorrow?"

Du Junning's expression changed, and he let out a cry. He immediately grabbed his mother's hand, hurriedly bowed to Xianjin and Chen Jianfang, and rushed out, covering his hard little bottom.

Xianjin chuckled.

This little turd, coming to give thanks without finishing his homework! How irresponsible!

Chen Jianfang also smiled, with a clear and bright air, and whispered to Xianjin, "Let's go. It's getting late, we should avoid Third Uncle catching us again."

Every time Chen Fu came to fetch her after work, it was the most embarrassing moment for Xianjin.

The famous Shopkeeper He, being scolded by her cheap father like a chick that hadn't pecked at any grain.

It was very detrimental to establishing Xianjin's authority in the shop.

After tidying up the counter and giving some instructions to Zhou Ergou, Xianjin picked up a lantern and followed behind Chen Jianfang, clocking out.

But just as she stepped over the threshold, a light rain began to fall from the sky.

Xianjin prepared to go back for an umbrella, but Chen Jianfang took out a green cloth oiled-paper umbrella from behind the door. He lifted his chin slightly, indicating for Xianjin to follow. "Let's go. It's not even a hundred meters, we'll be there in no time."

Xianjin thought about it and agreed.

Two umbrellas would require two lanterns.

That would be exhausting.

She bent down and joined Chen Jianfang under the same umbrella.

The spring rain was light, and the droplets fell like flowers onto the oiled paper, scattering crisp and loud sounds.

Under the umbrella, the two walked side by side, yet they were far apart.

Xianjin looked down and noticed that Chen Jianfang was standing two fists' width away from her arm. She fell silent—sharing an umbrella with a woman must be quite torturous for a future feudal scholar, right?

Xianjin silently moved a step further away.

"Were they here to thank us?"

Chen Jianfang spoke, his voice warmer than the spring rain.

Xianjin nodded, letting out a bitter laugh. "...I really don't deserve their gratitude..."

Chen Jianfang understood the situation and instantly grasped what Xianjin meant. Lowering his eyes, he said after a moment, "Regardless, you did do something good, and he should be grateful."

Pausing, his tone wistful, he continued, "The Du family is indeed struggling. Du Junning's father was a scholar who graduated from Qingcheng Mountain Courtyard. He was a promising candidate for the provincial exams, but he lost his life to a cold, leaving his widow and child to fend for themselves. The Du clan swallowed their sacrificial fields and took the house left by Scholar Du. His aunt's family lives far away, and she stayed in Jing County to ensure Du Junning could continue his studies at the mountain courtyard... Life has been very difficult for them..."

"Actually, you could have given them some paper today..."

Xianjin shook her head vigorously. "No, no!"

Speaking of the dye stain on Du Junning's mother's shoulder and the callus on her right finger, Xianjin said softly, "...She's an extremely strong-willed woman. She'd rather compete with men at the dye workshop for food than accept unearned gifts from others."

Chen Jianfang pursed his lips and lowered his head, lost in thought.

The rain seemed to be getting heavier.

Xianjin bowed her head and extended her gaze beyond the umbrella, catching the raindrops falling along the eaves.

She finally felt a sense of reality.

A sense of having died and been reborn, of traveling through time.

Previously, whether trying to escape the control of the Sun family or selling and making paper in Jing County, she had observed everything from a detached, third-person perspective.

Tonight.

The simple gratitude of Aunt Du and the sincere bows of the three children made her suddenly feel like she was truly part of this world.

The distance from the shop to the old residence wasn't long, but Chen Jianfang deliberately walked slowly.

Xianjin didn't notice, even reaching out to gently touch the raindrops falling from the edge of the umbrella.

Cold, light, and crisp.

The lantern's light shimmered on the small puddles on the road, rippling and reflecting itself into the moon in the sky.

Xianjin sighed softly.

Chen Jianfang glanced sideways. "What's wrong?"

Xianjin said wistfully, "It's raining, and we have an umbrella."

But they don't.

Du Junning doesn't.

Wang Sansuo, beaten by her two elder brothers to the point of swollen legs and reddened face, had none.

Nor did He Xianjin, once left in the rear courtyard with an awkward identity.