13. Conditions

Gu Fei woke and found herself unable to fall asleep again. Dawn had not yet fully broken. To ease Gu Fei’s restlessness, Ku Ma roused Danqing to prepare an early breakfast and sent her ahead to wait at the main house.

Gu Fei sat alone under the eaves outside the flower hall, watching the eastern sky pale with the coming day. As the floating clouds gradually turned golden, her mind kept drifting back to the affairs of the Mo family in the capital.

The Mo family of the capital was the main branch of a two-hundred-year-old clan of ink makers. Even as the Great Yin Dynasty fell into chaos and split into Great Yin, Southern Qi, and Yunli, the Mo family continued to flourish, seemingly untouched by the turmoil of the world, firmly rooted in the land of the capital.

In two centuries, the family had produced countless descendants. It was unknown which ancestor had established the ancestral rule to abandon those without talent for ink-making: any Mo child who, upon reaching their twenties, showed no gift for the craft would be ruthlessly cast out. They would be given a sum for their departure and sent to distant counties, far from the capital. Whether they continued in ink-making or chose another trade, the main house would never again concern itself with their fate. Thus began the tradition of the Mo family’s branch houses.

Although the exiled branches lacked talent, a strong yearning to return to the main house persisted among them. Many, after settling elsewhere, continued in the ink trade, and some, with keen minds, even established thriving branch businesses.

The heads of these branches, knowing their own return was impossible, poured their hopes into their descendants, sparing no effort in their training, dreaming that one day their line might return to the capital in glory.

Every three years, the Mo family of the capital sent agents to inspect the branches. If they discovered a child of exceptional talent, they would be registered and brought to the main house to be raised, thus ensuring the family’s bloodline remained strong.

For the branches, this was the ultimate honor—a single person’s success could bring fortune to their entire house.

At the age of five, Gu Fei’s extraordinary sense of smell was discovered by Mo Yan, head of the Mo branch in Yizhou, who soon recognized her prodigious talent for ink-making. Though the usual three-year term had not passed, she was recommended to the main house in the capital. There, by happenstance, she met the matriarch of the Mo family, who was traveling outside at the time. Naturally, the matriarch brought Gu Fei back to the main house, where she met the eldest legitimate daughter, Mo Qingge.

Leaning back, Gu Fei let the cold wood of her wheelchair seep into her bones, soothing her restless thoughts. She harbored both resentment and hatred, yet had no choice but to suppress her urge for revenge. Even when her legs were whole, she had not been a match for Mo Qingge; now, crippled and helpless, she had no way out. She must plan carefully before she could rise again.

“Fei, are you looking for your uncle?”

Lost in her thoughts, Gu Fei’s gaze flickered as anger rolled within her. Suddenly, she heard her uncle Gu Zhong’s voice. Looking up, she saw him striding into Qingmo Courtyard, his hair still untidy, clearly having rushed over after only a quick wash.

She secretly admired him—Gu Zhong was a true merchant, never missing a chance for profit, not even a feather from a passing goose.

“Yes, I have something I’d like to discuss with Uncle.” In an instant, Gu Fei masked her emotions, her expression turning gentle and pleasant.

“Very well, let’s talk inside.” Gu Zhong lifted his robe and entered the flower hall first, followed by Ku Ma, who hurried to push Gu Fei’s wheelchair inside.

Gu Fei dispensed with pleasantries. “Uncle, did you use the method I mentioned yesterday? How did it work?”

Gu Zhong stroked his black beard, uncertain of her intent. “I gave the orders, but it’s only been a night. I doubt there’s any noticeable result yet.”

Gu Fei nodded. “Indeed, it’s a bit soon.”

Seeing Gu Zhong’s dismissive look, she continued, “I can tell you this, Uncle—following that method, only two or three out of five ink pellets can be saved. The rest are beyond help.”

Gu Zhong was startled, his demeanor turning serious. “Why do you say that?”

Now that he asked, Gu Fei felt herself growing calmer. The shadows of her nightmare faded entirely, leaving her unflustered. “Two out of five can be saved, one is completely ruined and cannot be repaired, and as for the remaining two…”

She paused, looking Gu Zhong in the eye with a slight smile. “For those, the method was used incorrectly, so the results will not be good.”

Gu Zhong’s skepticism was evident. He fell silent, pondering her words.

Gu Fei did not rush him. She signaled Danqing to lay out breakfast, bringing an extra set of dishes, and personally served a bowl of yam honey porridge to the seat of honor. “Why not stay and have breakfast in Qingmo Courtyard, Uncle?”

Gu Zhong snapped out of his thoughts but did not reach for the chopsticks. “Let us speak plainly. What’s your price?”

Gu Fei smiled, stirring her spoon through the thick, steaming porridge with an air of indifference. “You overstate it, Uncle. What I want is also a good thing for the Gu family.”

Clearly, Gu Zhong did not quite believe her. His handsome beard twitched as he waited.

Gu Fei set down her spoon, her eyes curving. She tapped the tip of her tongue against her lips and said, “A small ink-making workshop.”

With a loud clatter, Gu Zhong shot to his feet, his chair scraping harshly. He stared at Gu Fei, certain she was not joking. “You know how to make ink?”

The porridge in the lotus-leaf bowl had cooled. Gu Fei bent over and ate a few small bites, ignoring Gu Zhong’s question entirely.

Her silence, however, was as good as admission in Gu Zhong’s eyes. He broke into delighted laughter. “This is wonderful! You needn’t bargain with me over such a thing. Just say the word and I’ll make it happen.”

Gu Fei was no child—she knew how to read hearts. She trusted only a third of Gu Zhong’s words, letting the rest pass. Swallowing her mouthful of porridge, she said, “You misunderstand, Uncle. I don’t know how to make ink. I’ve simply developed an interest. After all, our Gu family is known for ink-making. If I don’t learn, wouldn’t it be a joke?”

Gu Zhong was a shrewd man. He didn’t believe her, just as she didn’t believe him. With a flourish, he picked up his chopsticks and began to eat, saying nothing further.

Perhaps the habit of eating in silence was ingrained in him, for once he started, he said no more.

Gu Fei was in no hurry. She finished her meal slowly, waiting until Gu Zhong was done, then fixed him with a bright gaze. “The fabric bags for hanging ink pellets matter as well—they should be made of breathable gauze. Oil soot ink and pine soot ink are different, and colored inks need even more careful tending…”

Gu Zhong listened intently, memorizing every word. The more he heard, the more shocked he became. He realized that Gu Fei had not told him the whole truth yesterday. Though puzzled as to why she hadn’t asked for the workshop as part of the deal then, he had no time to dwell on it; the matter of the ink pellets growing damp and losing color weighed on him constantly.

Watching Gu Zhong depart in haste, promising to bring craftsmen to build her a workshop within days, Gu Fei’s face turned cold. She sat alone for half the morning, then summoned Ku Ma, her expression blank. “Ku Ma, tomorrow we are leaving the estate.”