Chapter 111 Le Zhengqi

Chapter 111: Le Zhengqi

The screen was carefully carried into the main hall by the servants. Nie Zhiyao placed it in the most conspicuous spot, admiring it with full delight. "Three years, and your painting skills have only improved. Wow, this orange looks like I could reach out and pluck it right into my hand—truly lifelike."

Nie Zhiyao, clad in a jade-colored brocade robe, stood before the screen, lavishing praise on Meng Wan.

The weather was biting cold. Having traveled by carriage, Meng Wan’s legs were slightly numb despite the hand warmer. As he warmed his hands on the low brick bed, he said with a mix of amusement and helplessness, "It's just a painting. If you like it, I’m free anyway—I could paint two more for you."

Nie Zhiyao finally tore himself away from the screen and climbed onto the low brick bed, ordering the servants to serve hot tea and fruits.

"Do you think your paintings are ordinary? If word got out that Master Xiang accepted you as her disciple, wouldn’t the noble ladies of the capital flood your doorstep? Master Xiang hasn’t taken a disciple in nearly twenty years, except for two earlier ones. Even if you just mentioned her name, people would flock to your work even if it were mediocre. And you—your style is unique, a completely different path from Master Xiang’s, and perhaps even surpassing her."

Nie Zhiyao had also studied poetry, chess, calligraphy, and painting since childhood, so he had enough discernment.

Having been influenced by modern animation and original art, with a foundation in sketching and life drawing, and personally tutored by a top master of the traditional Chinese style, Meng Wan had all the advantages. If his paintings weren’t good, it would be hard to justify.

But even as his painting skills improved, Meng Wan found little to rejoice over, because he had yet to find the "heart of painting" that Master Xiang spoke of. Simply painting for the sake of painting was ultimately a lesser pursuit.

He popped a piece of dried apricot into his mouth and changed the subject. "That man just now—he’s your husband, Le Zhengqi? I didn’t expect him to be so striking. Why didn’t you mention him before?"

"What’s there to say?"

Nie Zhiyao’s expression soured at the mention of Le Zhengqi. He said irritably, "Just a beautiful shell. Deep down, he’s scheming and no good."

Meng Wan: ????

He couldn’t even finish the dried apricot.

Thanks, I feel attacked.

At noon, they had a meal at Nie Zhiyao’s place. With few family members and no need for formalities between close friends, the four of them sat at the same table.

Meng Wan, not treating Nie Zhiyao as an outsider, glanced at the small wooden bucket of rice and said calmly to the attendant, "Bring another bucket."

The attendant was taken aback at first, then quickly replied, "I’ll go at once."

Nie Zhiyao was initially puzzled, but after seeing Song Tingzhou single-handedly polish off half a bucket of rice, he was utterly stunned. This Wan Geer had married a glutton.

Meng Wan, however, was growing worried. On the way back, sitting in the carriage, he asked Song Tingzhou, "You’ve been eating less lately?"

Song Tingzhou choked. "Have I?"

Meng Wan treated the matter with seriousness. "Maybe it’s because you’ve been home all the time since arriving in the capital—less exercise, so your appetite has dropped. Your abs don’t feel as firm to the touch as before."

Song Tingzhou’s internal alarm bells went off.

Abs?

—

After seeing Meng Wan and the others off, Nie Zhiyao and Le Zhengqi walked back. At the door of the main hall, they parted ways, each heading to their own bedroom.

Suddenly reminded of something, Nie Zhiyao stopped and said, "You were polite to my friend today. Thanks."

Le Zhengqi, usually cold-faced, suddenly smiled. "We are husband and husband, one body. Why be so formal, dear?"

He wore a heavy black robe, about the same height as Song Tingzhou, with a lean build. His hair was brownish, his skin sickly pale.

His brow ridge was sharp and prominent. His upper eyelids were thin, the double eyelids wide and clear, with long, upward-curving lashes and deeply set eyes. Distinct shallow grooves above and below each eye gave his eyes a striking three-dimensional quality.

His nose bridge was high, his lips beautifully shaped, his features well-defined, and his entire face had deep, handsome contours.

When this beauty smiled, even in the dead of winter, it felt as if a hundred flowers were blooming and vying for attention. Nie Zhiyao couldn’t help but be dazed for a moment, but he quickly recovered and muttered with a dark expression, "Putting on airs."

But Le Zhengqi heard him. In a lazy tone, he said, "Before, when I was cold and didn’t speak, you called me a mute. Today I smiled, and you say I’m putting on airs. What do you want from me?"

"Sorry." Nie Zhiyao offered a perfunctory apology without any embarrassment at being caught badmouthing him, and then went straight into his room without another word.

Le Zhengqi watched his retreating back, then instantly erased the smile from his lips, his expression turning indifferent. He entered the other main room.

The two husbands clearly had a superficial relationship—they didn’t even live together.

After returning to his room, Le Zhengqi did not rest but instead changed clothes and left again. The servants, used to this, showed no surprise; they all knew the two masters had a poor relationship.

Most of the servants in the small Nie household were Nie Zhiyao’s. Le Zhengqi had only two similarly tall and thin attendants. When they saw their master about to go out, one harnessed the carriage, and the other followed.

The carriage stopped at the back door of a restaurant. After Le Zhengqi got off, the carriage didn’t linger but continued forward.

Entering the restaurant through the back door, he went up to a secret room on the third floor, where a private discussion was already underway.

"Is the second prince still dawdling on the way?"

"Prince Qin is afraid of offending the Wu family."

"The situation is already decided. Making such foolish gestures is hardly befitting of a prince. Has the governor of Liaodong pacified the refugees?"

"Rest assured, my prince. After we obtained the evidence, we sent the governor of Liaodong to oversee the situation. Lord Wang has returned to Changping. The grain from the official granaries can temporarily alleviate the famine. We’ve also borrowed grain and cotton from the neighboring prefectures of Fengtian and Jianping."

It was bitterly cold in Changping. This year’s crops had been ruined, leaving the people without a primary source of income for the year. With the grain issue solved, if cotton was lacking, many would freeze to death.

Someone was guarding the door, but the guard clearly recognized Le Zhengqi. He was allowed in and reported something specific, though only fragmented phrases could be heard.

"...should have no connection."

"He has the sharpness and ambition of youth, a kind and upright gentleman."

"The Xiang family intends to withdraw at the height of their power. The Lin family has always been incorruptible..."

—

Meng Wan didn’t know that he and Song Tingzhou had already had their backgrounds thoroughly investigated. The tragedy of being insignificant was that, even while knowing they were weak and powerless, they had no warning when others schemed against them.

Sometimes they should even be grateful for their weakness, because for now, they weren’t even qualified to be used as pawns, thus not involved in the muddy waters of the capital.

The days after the New Year remained uneventful, except that Song Tingzhou, on a whim, decided to practice boxing with Xue Sheng every morning.

He was twenty-four this year, already too old to start learning martial arts, but practicing the Five Animals Exercise for health was still beneficial.

After the New Year, Zhu Zening packed his bags and was again sent by Third Master Zhu to stay with Song Tingzhou. The main reason was that Third Master had long recognized Song Tingzhou’s steady character and wanted his son to absorb some of that stability through daily exposure.

Moreover, Song Tingzhou was an outstanding writer, so he could also help Zhu Zening with his studies—killing two birds with one stone.

So now, there was an extra person doing the Five Animals Exercise in the early morning.

Meng Wan, unable to stay idle, started thinking about the milk tea he had conceptualized before. He didn’t want to start a business and attract attention for now—he just craved it and wanted to make it for his own enjoyment.

Sure enough, the capital was the imperial city. Milk and goat milk, which were rare in Changping, were commonplace here.

He bought a small-bellied pottery pot and had Xue Sheng find a household that sold milk, bringing back a small bucket of fresh milk.

In the main hall, a small stove was built for winter and dismantled in spring.

Fresh milk was placed on the table. Meng Wan first brewed a small pot of black tea, then set the small earthenware pot on the stove.

In the Yu Kingdom, the most commonly used sugars were brown sugar and malt syrup. Meng Wan put some brown sugar into the pot; he didn't know the exact proportions and just estimated.

He cooked the sugar over low heat until melted, then poured out the brewed tea into another container, leaving only the used tea leaves and a little tea at the bottom. He poured the tea leaves and residual liquid into the pot and stir-fried a few times, added a handful of dry tea leaves, and continued stirring until the unique aroma of tea wafted out. Then he poured the remaining tea back into the pot and added the milk. He simmered it over low heat until it just started to boil, then removed the small earthenware pot from the stove.

Because brown sugar was added, the color was slightly reddish-brown, but it smelled good, with the creamy, tea-infused aroma of milk tea.

Meng Wan sat at the table and took a sip. Hey, not bad, the taste was similar to the milk tea he had drunk in his previous life. Next time I'll add some honeyed red beans – that would be even better.

"Xue Sheng, take the milk tea I made to the front yard for the young master and Juren Zhu. Nanny Geng, you try some too." Meng Wan poured out a cup for Nanny Geng and had Xue Sheng take the rest to the front yard.

Nanny Geng picked up the teacup and took a small sip, exclaiming, "Smooth, sweet, and fragrant, truly delicious."

She remarked with curiosity, "Earlier, when I accompanied the old lady into the palace, I also drank the palace's milk tea – it was salty, they added salt. The young master's version is smooth and delicate, delicious."

Lady Xiang's husband, Lord Lin, held an undemanding post in the Hanlin Academy, a fourth-rank official. His family rarely had the chance to enter the palace.

But Lady Xiang herself was a master of calligraphy and painting, and as a woman, the empresses liked to summon her, making her a frequent guest at court. Nanny Geng had gained much experience accompanying her, which was why Lady Xiang left Nanny Geng to look after Meng Wan.

Meng Wan sat on the couch, with a plate of thousand-layer cake in front of him, alternating sips of milk tea and bites of cake, thoroughly enjoying himself.

He secretly thought it a shame that if he were to open a milk tea shop, in a place like Shengjing where there was no shortage of wealthy people, it would surely work.

After a while, Song Tingzhou returned from the front yard and also said it was delicious. The next day, Meng Wan steamed a pot of red beans, mixed them with honey once cooked, and used them as toppings in the milk tea.

These ingredients were more expensive than meat, but for wealthy families in Shengjing, it was nothing.

Meng Wan heard from Nanny Geng that many families used gold and jade for plates, handkerchiefs were edged with gold thread, and they'd use them once and throw them away. The water for brewing tea was transported by porters from all over the country. The eldest daughter had married a count and was the Countess, and the countess's mansion had sedan chairs, saddles, saddle cushions, bridles, all made of silver. The sedan chair was so large that it even had a reception hall inside.

The extravagance of the noble families of Shengjing was beyond the imagination of ordinary people.

Well, Meng Wan felt no envy at all after hearing this; instead, the images that came to his mind were the starving flood refugees in Changping.

Suddenly, a feeling surged inside him—he wanted to record the scenes he had witnessed.

This feeling came very suddenly, yet so intensely that he couldn't wait another moment.

In his study, there was a painting table about two meters long, taking up half the study. Meng Wan spread a sheet of fine Xuan paper on it, ground ink, and leaned over the table to paint.

After an unknown amount of time, a candleholder was placed on the table. Meng Wan looked up at the closed window; the white window paper glowed with a dim yellow light, clearly showing that the sun was setting.

Song Tingzhou set down the candleholder and asked softly, "Are you hungry?"

Meng Wan looked at the large unfinished outlines on the painting table, put down his brush, and smiled, "I've been hungry for a while. Have you eaten?"

Sure enough, Song Tingzhou shook his head, "I had milk tea, so I'm not too hungry."

Meng Wan rolled his stiff neck and heard a faint crack.

"Even if you're not hungry, I am. Quickly tell the maid to serve dinner." He rubbed his wrists, washed his hands, and pulled Song Tingzhou back to the main hall.

The kitchen had already prepared the meal. Once the master gave the word, some stewed dishes were brought to the table first, followed by stir-fried seasonal vegetables and soup.

Meng Wan and Song Tingzhou dined together, usually with four dishes and one soup. Because Song Tingzhou had a good appetite, most of the time everything was finished.

Today's soup was meatball soup, with freshly boiled meatballs garnished with green scallions, delicious. Meng Wan had two bowls and added another bowl of rice, eating until his belly was full.

Song Tingzhou polished off the remaining dishes.

After dinner, it was completely dark. Meng Wan put on his cloak and his small gray fur hat and went to the courtyard with Song Tingzhou for a walk.

This was his first New Year in this world; Song Tingzhou had bought the fur for the hat from a hunter.

Song Tingzhou's gaze softened, and he adjusted the hat for him, "I should buy you a better one."

Meng Wan raised his hand and touched his little hat, his long eyelashes fluttering, "It's still fine, isn't it?"

"But I saw Nie Fulang's fur cloak is nice, pure white all over." Nie Zhiyao had grown up in Shengjing. The young ladies and gentlemen of wealthy families changed clothes every season, wearing new styles each season. People could tell at a glance if someone was wearing last year's pattern.

Actually, Nie Zhiyao was much more particular in food, clothing, and daily necessities than Meng Wan; you could tell at a glance.

"Pfft," Meng Wan turned around nonchalantly, "As long as it's warm, who cares what I wear?"

Song Tingzhou stepped forward and took his hand, "Are you painting Guqing County?"

Meng Wan kept walking, turned his face slightly, and looked up at Song Tingzhou, "To be precise, it's a composite of all the disaster areas I've seen. What I painted today is just a part; I'll continue to refine it later."

Song Tingzhou was silent for a moment, then said slowly, "Wan'er, you are very thoughtful."

Meng Wan looked thoughtful, "Thoughtful?"

They were walking in the courtyard to aid digestion. On the second lap, snowflakes suddenly began to fall. Meng Wan caught one with his hand; it melted as soon as it touched his palm. He sighed, "The snow in Shengjing is not as thick or as plentiful as in Changping."

In Changping, the snow never melted throughout the entire winter, but since they arrived in Shengjing, this was only the third snowfall.

"I hope the weather will be warmer on the day of the metropolitan exam."

The metropolitan exam is held in early spring; though called early spring, it could also be called late winter. It's still up in the air whether it will snow or rain.