Chapter One Hundred Twenty: Mourning

Chapter 120: A Journey of Mourning

With money in hand and servants at their beck and call, Lin Xia grew increasingly capable. Lin Qiuran found running her business far easier now than four years ago.

Lin Xia selected shop locations, hired staff, and trained them. The two new shops she opened required simpler skills than the Golden Tripod Restaurant, which demanded mastery of numerous dishes. Here, it was merely about preparing fillings and making wontons. She hired managers and staff to handle sales. With the capital's large population, underperforming employees could easily be replaced.

After several days of intense work, Lin Qiuran transformed the four thousand taels of profit brought by Xu Yuanhang into two new shops. Their interiors were kept deliberately simple, completed within days. One specialized in wontons, the other in *malatang*—a spicy, numbing hotpot-style dish.

Though the capital boasted countless delicious foods and an abundance of restaurants and eateries, Lin Qiuran’s two new shops managed to carve out a solid niche.

Sesame paste was immensely popular in the capital. Lin Qiuran refined the recipe slightly, eliminating its natural bitterness, and used it to create an exceptionally flavorful *malatang*. Chili peppers were imported from Yu'an, as local Beijing varieties lacked sufficient pungency. Those who found hotpot expensive embraced this affordable alternative. During this season, the available vegetables were mainly potatoes, turnips, and cabbage—all of which sold briskly.

Wontons were a staple in Yu'an. Lin Qiuran expanded the range of fillings to suit the capital residents' tastes, emphasizing ultra-thin wrappers and generous portions. The standard version featured seaweed, dried shrimp, seasoning, and a rich lard-based broth, over which bone broth was poured before adding the cooked wontons.

The soup was steaming and deeply comforting; the wonton wrappers were astonishingly thin—nearly translucent. When boiled, the color of the filling shone through clearly. They were thinner than local dumpling wrappers, and the filling was finely minced, yielding a smoother, more delicate texture.

Yet they remained succulent and tender. Beyond meat fillings, options included shrimp, salted egg yolk, and preserved eggs—adding layers of complexity to the flavor profile.

In addition to the classic bone-broth version, alternatives included sour soup, red-oil, and dry-mixed styles—each offering a distinct taste experience.

For several days prior to opening, advertisements ran at the Golden Tripod Restaurant. With preparations nearly complete, business was expected to thrive.

Lin Qiuran planned to acquire more commercial properties once her capital increased. Whether or not she operated them herself was another question; she could always rent them out for steady income. Given the capital’s thriving merchant community, she followed Yun Shi’s example and invested modestly in several businesses—totaling just over six hundred taels. Some yielded profits; others incurred losses. But since Yun Shi had proactively introduced her to these opportunities, success seemed likely across the board.

With business demands mounting, Lin Qiuran devoted half her days to external engagements—meeting clients, attending banquets. As she mingled with matrons from influential families, her attire and demeanor gradually adapted to local customs, markedly different from when she first arrived.

Lin Qiuran required a carriage for travel outside the home. To improve family mobility, she purchased an additional one—bringing the household total to three. The oldest carriage was reserved for Lin Xia and others on routine errands.

One carriage transported Tang Yuan; the other served Lin Qiuran and Sun Shi. Yet Sun Shi rarely ventured out, so Lin Qiuran used it almost exclusively.

Xiao Xun commuted on horseback for work—he never used a carriage.

In short, the family’s assets were steadily increasing. Lin Qiuran calculated that real estate alone was worth fifteen thousand taels—not counting the ancestral estate or country manors.

Yun Shi frequently praised her before Qin Shi: “Qiu Ran is remarkably capable and learns swiftly. There’s no need to worry, Mother. I’ve seen how well the Golden Tripod Restaurant and the other shops are doing—the family business is certain to flourish. I’ve already introduced Qiu Ran to several farmers. Now that spring planting has begun, she’s gradually mastering farm operations.”

By autumn harvest, the thousand acres of land would generate twenty thousand taels in revenue—a dependable return.

Wealth begets wealth. In time, income would multiply, and the family’s foundations would grow ever more secure.

Qin Shi had once worried that Xiao Xun—despite his sudden rise in status—might fail to sustain the family fortune. But Lin Qiuran’s performance had been outstanding, leaving little cause for concern.

When children are free of worry, elders find peace. Lv Zheng remarked, “Qiu Ran is so capable—we truly have nothing to fear. Otherwise, even in our graves, we’d still fret at our age.”

Yet Qin Shi felt deep sympathy for Lin Qiuran and Xiao Xun—so young, yet bearing the immense weight of managing the family business. It was truly no easy task.

Lv Zheng didn’t dwell on such matters. He often dined at the Golden Tripod Restaurant—its success owed much to the chef’s exceptional skill—and regularly brought friends along, even taking Qin Shi there once.

Of course, whenever Lv Zheng dined there, Lin Qiuran instructed Shopkeeper Zhu not to charge him. Qin Shi felt somewhat embarrassed, but Lv Zheng waved it off, unconcerned: “We’re family—and we’ve treated them well. Shouldn’t they show some filial piety?”

Lin Qiuran wasn’t concerned about the meal’s cost—but she *was* concerned about Lv Zheng’s health.

In his sixties, he was somewhat overweight, with a jovial, Maitreya Buddha-like countenance. Constant indulgence in rich food was undoubtedly harmful. She advised him twice, but he dismissed her concerns: “I know my own body. If I restrain myself, I might live a few years longer—but miserably. If I don’t restrain myself, I’ll live joyfully. So why not enjoy life while I can?”

He loved fine food. To eat bland porridge and tasteless meals daily—even if it extended his life—would render those extra years meaningless. Besides, having lived to such an advanced age and witnessed his grandchildren and great-grandchildren flourish, he was already deeply content.

One night in mid-March, Lv Zheng passed away peacefully in his sleep. When Qin Shi awoke and called out to him without response, she realized he was gone.

Lv Zheng had drawn his last breath—but his face still bore a gentle smile. He had departed happily.

Yet upon hearing the news, Xiao Xun fell silent for a long while. Lin Qiuran comforted him: “The Old Marquis saw you and Tang Yuan. He surely had no regrets.”

Xiao Xun looked at Lin Qiuran and nodded slowly. “I understand.”

Given their familial ties, social exchanges naturally occurred between the estate and the Marquis of Anyang’s residence. The couple, therefore, had to offer their condolences.

Tang Yuan hadn’t originally been expected to attend—but as a junior, Lin Qiuran, after reflection, decided to bring him along to pay respects.

Lin Qiuran found plain clothing for the three of them to change into. Formal mourning attire wasn’t required, but bright colors were inappropriate for a funeral.

Tang Yuan was only five and didn’t grasp the concept of life and death. When Lin Qiuran told him he would never see his portly, white-bearded great-grandfather again, he became so frightened he burst into tears.

Lin Qiuran lifted him up to soothe him. “Actually, it’s not that you’ll never see him again—it’s just that you’ll be in one place, and your great-grandfather will be in another. You’ll go to school, and he’ll be walking the streets. You’ll go to Lao Jin Hot Pot, and he’ll come to the Golden Tripod Restaurant. He’s always here—just not easily seen.”

Tang Yuan wept bitterly, and Lin Qiuran’s heart ached alongside him.

Tang Yuan rarely cried. After turning two, he’d never shed tears again—even when he fell, he’d dust himself off and get up; when facing difficulties, he’d find solutions independently. Today, he cried because he was genuinely heartbroken. He clung tightly to Lin Qiuran’s neck, tears streaking his cheeks.

After listening to Lin Qiuran, Tang Yuan glanced at her, then hugged her neck even tighter. He was afraid—afraid that one day Lin Qiuran, too, would vanish as she described.

Xiao Xun watched mother and son and sighed inwardly. Then he took Tang Yuan into his arms. “Perhaps we shouldn’t take Tang Yuan inside later?”

Lin Qiuran looked at Tang Yuan—but Tang Yuan wiped his tears away. “Mom, I can go. Great-grandfather was very kind to me. I should go see him and say goodbye.”

Lin Qiuran gently wiped his tears. “All right, then let’s go. If you feel unwell, Mom will bring you out immediately.”

Tang Yuan nodded. Soon, the carriage arrived at the Marquis of Anyang’s residence.

Guests arriving and departing wore somber colors. White funeral banners fluttered in the breeze, and even the placard at the Marquis of Anyang’s gate was adorned with white silk flowers.

Numerous wreaths and paper offerings lined the entrance. Upon passing through the main gate, a group of musicians played gongs, drums, and *suonas*, performing mournful funeral music—its sorrowful melody nearly unbearable.

Lin Qiuran first presented funeral gifts, then the three family members proceeded to the front hall to pay their respects.

The hall was adorned in solemn black and white drapery. Vibrant furnishings lay veiled beneath somber gauze. At the center stood a grand wreath emblazoned with the character "奠," its silent tribute framing the coffin that rested solemnly before it.

The Marquis of Anyang and Yun Shi received mourners—both dressed in mourning attire, eyes red and swollen. Though this was considered a “joyful funeral,” the loss of a beloved family member still brought profound grief.

Yun Shi held Lin Qiuran’s hand and patted Tang Yuan’s head. “You should visit the Old Lady later. She needs company now.”

As mistress of the household, Yun Shi oversaw all arrangements. Her daughter and daughter-in-law had been keeping Qin Shi company—but after a while, Qin Shi asked them to leave. Advanced in years, and now bereft of Lv Zheng, she likely wished to see Lin Qiuran.

Having Tang Yuan keep her company for a while would surely lift her spirits.

Lin Qiuran led Tang Yuan over. Qin Shi’s eyes were red, yet she still smiled warmly at them both. “Come sit. I’m fine—just not used to it yet.”

When someone passes, whether they once argued or bickered, all unpleasantness fades—only cherished memories remain.

Lin Qiuran said, “Then let Tang Yuan keep you company and talk with you. Otherwise, idleness makes it easy to dwell on sorrow.”

Qin Shi nodded. Her granddaughters and daughters-in-law kept reminding her that Lv Zheng had passed on—that he was now in the afterlife and wouldn’t want to see her sad, so she must stay strong. But constantly mentioning Lv Zheng made Qin Shi uncomfortable—so she asked them to leave.

Qin Shi smiled and asked, “How is Tang Yuan doing at school?”

Tang Yuan had attended school for a month. Qin Shi wanted to know whether he’d adjusted well.

Tang Yuan straightened proudly. “Pretty good! My dorm mates have taken leave several times a month—but I never have. Well… actually, I did ask once today—but for a legitimate reason. It’s not because I dislike school or am being frivolous.”

Tang Yuan was quite proud. Qin Shi smiled at this. “What has Tang Yuan learned lately? Can you tell your great-grandmother?”

Lin Qiuran smiled; he had learned so much these days. The academy not only taught reading and writing but also the six arts of a gentleman. Although a year at the academy was quite expensive, it truly provided practical knowledge. If one hired a tutor to teach at home, it certainly wouldn’t compare to what could be learned at the academy.

Tangyuan replied, “I’ve learned reading, horseback riding, arithmetic, rites, and music, but each subject has only been taught for a few days. I’ve just scratched the surface.”

While Tangyuan chatted with Qin Shi inside the room, Lin Qiuran went outside for a stroll. Even after leaving the room, she could still hear the voices of the two—an adult and a child—talking. Actually, it wasn’t an adult and a child, but two children.

Old people become like children; Qin Shi now needed to be coaxed like one.

After wandering around the courtyard for a while, Xiao Xun came over and patted Lin Qiuran’s hand. “I have to leave soon.”

He had matters to attend to and needed to report for duty shortly.

Lin Qiuran had returned at noon. After lunch, she had a servant escort Tangyuan back to the academy. Tangyuan didn’t fuss or complain that half a day was too short to be worth going. He shouldered his book bag and obediently headed off to school.

Lin Qiuran felt he had grown up. It wasn’t about his height—she saw him every day, and even if he had grown taller, she wouldn’t have noticed right away. She felt that Tangyuan had grown more mature emotionally.

Later, Lin Qiuran didn’t take Tangyuan to the matters at the Marquis of Anyang’s residence. On Lv Zheng’s seventh-day memorial, she and Xiao Xun went again. In early April, when it was time for the burial, they attended once more.

The couple accompanied the procession all the way, watching white paper money flutter in the sky, feeling as though Lv Zheng was watching from above.

Over twenty years had passed. Perhaps the old marquis had now reunited with Xiao Xun’s mother. Maybe they were talking about Xiao Xun’s appearance or about Tangyuan.

Lin Qiuran glanced at Xiao Xun, who was also looking up at the sky. His eyes were slightly red, and Lin Qiuran’s heart ached. She patted his hand.

Life had to go on. In early April, Steward Xu delivered the profits from the Thirteen Spices—1,600 taels. Lin Qiuran also urged the household to speed up production of the spices to avoid shortages.

With profits of 1,600 taels in just one month, and with Xu Yuanhang still having plenty of inventory, it all meant more income.

Lin Qiuran didn’t use all the money. Lin’s Wontons and Sun’s Hot Pot had just opened, and she couldn’t keep opening shops indefinitely. It was useful to keep some money at home.

The sign for Malatang (spicy hot pot) was named after Sun Shi’s surname. Firstly, she couldn’t name everything after the Lin or Xiao families—customers might not care, but she worried some might read too much into it. Secondly, Lin Qiuran intended to give the profits from Malatang to Sun Shi, who also had uses for money. Since Xiao Dashi had just given her fifty taels, she likely had little left.

With Xiao Dashi away, Sun Shi had little to do. Usually, she could visit the shops and look around, so Lin Qiuran found something to keep her occupied.

Earning dozens of taels a month gave her financial confidence.

Sun Shi didn’t spend recklessly; she cared about the household. Even if she did spend, it wouldn’t be like Xiao Dashi. Giving her the profits from one shop to make her happy was mutually beneficial.

At first, Sun Shi refused, saying it was all Lin Qiuran’s hard work and she couldn’t accept the money.

But Lin Qiuran said, “You staying well at home is help enough. Take the money—it’s what you deserve. Buy whatever you like.”

After saying this, Lin Qiuran went out; she had other matters to attend to. Sun Shi found counting money at home more interesting than idling.

So Sun Shi accepted. In the morning, she drank tea, and soon the opera troupe Lin Qiuran had hired for her arrived at the residence and performed several acts, which she thoroughly enjoyed.

But around noon, the servant at the gate said someone from the Xu family was looking for Lin Qiuran. Since Lin Qiuran wasn’t there and the person seemed extremely urgent, they had to turn to Sun Shi.

Sun Shi had the servant bring the person in and saw it was Steward Xu.

Last time Xu Yuanhang visited, Steward Xu had also come. Now he was sweating anxiously, like an ant on a hot pan. Sun Shi had a maid pour him water. “Sit down and catch your breath. What’s happened to make you so frantic?”

Steward Xu didn’t sit but knelt on the ground and kowtowed to Sun Shi. “Elder Madam, our young master has been arrested! You must find a way to help!”

Sun Shi had no experience handling such matters, but since Xu Yuanhang was in trouble, she knew she had to step in. “Don’t panic. Qiu Ran isn’t here, but I’ll send a servant to find her.”