41. A Stinging Slap, Ink-Making

Gu Fei’s mind was filled with speculation. She had been invited onto a carriage with no family crest, and upon arrival, her eyes were covered with black silk. Seated in her wheelchair, she sensed they traveled for about a quarter of an hour, during which she felt the chair jolt several times at thresholds—she understood then that she had been brought deep into a residence.

The black silk was suddenly yanked away. The abrupt brightness stung her eyes, and she squinted, making out several figures shifting before her.

“Miss Gu is a woman of great ability. We’ve invited you in such a manner—please don’t take offense,” said a middle-aged man in a sapphire robe, bowing to her in the hazy light.

A mocking smile curled at Gu Fei’s lips. She lifted a hand to rub her eyes, her dark pupils moistening so her vision cleared. Calmly, she surveyed the room.

The furnishings were extravagant—pink gauze drapes, a yellow pear-wood vanity carved with trailing blossoms, six folding screens painted with landscapes. In the outer room stood a writing desk, scattered with ink stones and brushes.

Three people stood before her: the wealthy young man who had abducted her, the middle-aged man who had just spoken, and an older figure standing at the back—black-bearded, face slightly puffy, a bruise at the corner of one eye.

Her gaze lingered on the bruise, and a thought struck her. Fixing her eyes on the old man, she said, “So this is how the Huang household is run? Servants without respect, descendants without restraint!”

Her words struck hard, ringing with cold authority.

The elder, just past fifty, was stunned and blurted out, “How did you know my surname is Huang—”

He stopped mid-sentence as realization dawned, his expression darkening as he stared at her.

Gu Fei smiled, knowing that a few days prior this Huang Pinyuan had gotten into a scuffle with Mo Cheng in town, which had left that bruise on his face. She had taken a shot in the dark—and hit the mark.

With a flick of her sleeve, Gu Fei said airily, “Since Master Huang has shown such hospitality, there must be something you wish to ask. Please, speak plainly. If it’s within my power, I will not refuse.”

Huang Pinyuan waved his hand, and the middle-aged steward bowed and left, dismissing the maids waiting outside.

Gu Fei remained composed, her eyes dark and deep. She had recognized the steward’s status at a glance—the fabric of his robe was clearly inferior to Huang Pinyuan’s, and the style was simpler.

When Huang Pinyuan said nothing, Gu Fei naturally held her tongue as well. Though she had been brought here, it would not do to appear weak and at their mercy.

The young master gave a slight cough and stepped forward, offering a polite salute. “I am Huang Rufeng. I offended you before—please forgive me, Miss.”

Gu Fei let out a cold laugh. The arrogance of such a scion could not be concealed by a few polite words. She crooked her finger at him. “Come closer.”

Huang Rufeng was puzzled but obeyed. As he leaned in, Gu Fei suddenly leaned forward and raised her hand—

A sharp slap rang out, leaving five red marks on his cheek.

Huang Rufeng was stunned, unable to react for a long moment. Huang Pinyuan leapt up in fury, pointing at Gu Fei, his finger trembling. “You little wretch from the Gu family! Don’t forget your current predicament!”

Gu Fei shot him a sidelong glance, spreading her fingers and bringing them to her lips, blowing on them with studied indifference. “That was to punish your son for his earlier disrespect.”

Huang Rufeng’s face flushed, his cheek burning with pain. Anger boiled in his heart, but since Gu Fei was still useful, he dared not retaliate. He looked to Huang Pinyuan, gritting his teeth. “Father, Miss Gu’s reprimand is deserved. I was reckless.”

Huang Pinyuan calmed himself, his gaze sharp and cold. He signaled for Huang Rufeng to leave as well. Only then did he turn to Gu Fei and say, “Your secret, Miss Gu—I have long been aware of it. If you are wise, you’ll reveal everything now. I promise you, after we crush Mo Cheng, you and I shall share the spoils equally.”

Gu Fei rubbed her reddened fingers, not even bothering to look up. “Since Master Huang claims to know everything, why bother asking me?”

Her words were laced with scorn.

Huang Pinyuan stroked his beard, pacing a few steps before turning back. “What I want to know is this: is it true that the capital’s Mo family will come to Yi Prefecture next month to buy up large quantities of Yi ink? Why did you go to Linglong Pavilion? And who exactly are you?”

Gu Fei raised her eyes to him, unable to hide her surprise. “How did you learn of this? What else do you know?”

Huang Pinyuan smiled smugly. As a merchant, he excelled at reading faces—Gu Fei’s fleeting emotion had not escaped him. “You should consider working with us, Miss Gu. Once we ruin the Mo family, the Huangs will rule Yi Prefecture. The Gu family will rise with us. And I hear you have impressive skills at carving ink molds.”

Gu Fei hesitated, her expression uncertain. “I need to think about it.”

Huang Pinyuan did not press her. Folding his hands behind his back, he said, “You have one day. I’ll allow you to stay as my guest for now—I’ll explain everything to Gu Zhong later.”

“You mean to keep me here against my will?” Gu Fei shouted shrilly, her voice losing all composure.

Huang Pinyuan ignored her, walking straight to the door and instructing the steward, “Send two maids to serve Miss Gu. See that her every need is met—if she’s neglected, there will be consequences.”

Gu Fei called after him in frustration, “Do you have no respect for the law, Huang Pinyuan?”

But he was already gone. Huang Rufeng came back in, anger smoldering in his eyes. Suddenly he laughed, the sound twisted and dark. “The law? In the Huang household, we are the law.”

He stepped up to her, bent down and lifted her chin, enunciating each word, “That slap today—I’ll remember it. One day you’ll be begging at my feet.”

“Master, it’s time to go,” the steward interjected quietly from the doorway.

Huang Rufeng straightened, glancing at the steward in displeasure before turning his strange gaze back on Gu Fei. “Your eyes are quite lovely. Pity your legs are useless—unfit even for my bed.”

Gu Fei’s face was pale as snow, her lips pressed tight. Her cold, restrained demeanor seemed to please Huang Rufeng—he laughed loudly as he left.

Soon after, the sound of a porcelain teacup shattering echoed through the room as Gu Fei swept her sleeve.

For a long time, she sat in silence before spitting out coldly to the steward, “Out!”

“Yes, miss,” the steward replied obediently, “If you need anything, just call.”

He even closed the door behind him.

Left alone in the dim room, a sly smile crept onto Gu Fei’s lips. She had never expected that her carefully leaked tidings to the Huangs would make them so bold as to kidnap her in broad daylight just to defeat the Mo family.

Had this not happened, she might have let the Huangs and the Mo family fight each other, perhaps leaving the Huangs a way out. But now, she had resolved to teach them a lesson they would never forget.

As for her own situation, she felt no anxiety. The Huangs still needed her, so they would not harm her—at least not yet. She also trusted that Aunt Ku was already working on a rescue.

Of course, to display her anger, she tormented the maids from time to time, smashing a bowl or two at meals. But other than that, she slept soundly that night.

The next day, Huang Pinyuan visited. As she calmly ate her porridge, her first words were, “I agree to your terms, Master Huang. But I need you to do something for me as well.”

Huang Pinyuan brightened. “What is it?”

Gu Fei took her time sipping her porridge, wiped her mouth with a handkerchief, and gazed steadily at him. “Deliver a medicinal ink stick to Linglong Pavilion for me.”

Huang Pinyuan frowned at her request. Gu Fei, of course, knew what he was worrying about, and added, “Don’t worry, Master Huang. The ink is for Dr. Jiu, the eccentric physician at Linglong Pavilion. Unless, of course, you don’t wish to be associated with Linglong Pavilion?”

Huang Pinyuan considered before sitting across from her, abruptly changing the subject. “So, you also know how to make ink?”

Gu Fei laughed, her almond-shaped eyes narrowing like a wildcat’s. “Has Master Huang ever heard of an ink carver who can’t make ink?”

Huang Pinyuan was momentarily startled, then burst out laughing. “The ink molds you carve have even earned praise from the great Feng Puyu. Your ink sticks must be exceptional as well.”

Gu Fei’s smile grew mysterious. “Good or not, you’ll see for yourself when I borrow your family’s workshop in a moment.”

“Oh?” Huang Pinyuan’s eyes gleamed. “I’ll go prepare it now.”

Without waiting for her reply, he hurried off.

Watching his retreating figure, Gu Fei’s smile slowly faded to coldness. Choosing to reveal a sliver of her skills before Huang Pinyuan was a calculated decision she’d made after much thought the previous night. The Huangs had already gone so far as to detain her—if she did not increase her value, who knew how desperate father and son might become?

She tapped her bowl with a fingernail and ordered the maid, “Wheel me over there.”

As a family whose livelihood depended on ink, the Huangs naturally had their own workshop. When Gu Fei arrived, Huang Pinyuan was just sending the craftsmen out. After leading her in, he did not leave, but stood three paces away, staring unblinking at her every move.

Medicinal ink required pine soot as a base, mixed with various medicinal powders and decoctions in precise proportions—a task many times more difficult than making ordinary calligraphy ink sticks.

With a flourish, Gu Fei wrote out the list of required ingredients, and Huang Pinyuan had someone fetch them. Finally, she went to the smoke room by the kiln to collect soot.

The Huang family’s workshop had a kiln for producing soot: a long structure covered by planks, sealed with mud, and overlaid with stone slabs to form a smoking flue. When pine branches burned, soot would collect along the flue in three grades.

Inside the smoke room, a craftsman was already collecting soot from the flue. On the table lay white paper dusted with fine black soot. Gu Fei wheeled herself over, pinched a bit between her fingers, the black stark against her porcelain skin.

“Not fine enough,” she said, moving further in.

Huang Pinyuan followed. “Miss Gu, this soot was just swept out. How can it not be fine enough?”

She ignored him, examining each sample on the table before shaking her head. “Please have someone fetch soot from the very end of the flue—only the finest will do.”

Though suspicious, Huang Pinyuan had already agreed and could hardly refuse. He ordered a craftsman to do as she asked.

The craftsman worked quickly and skillfully. Soon he returned, presenting a slip of white paper. Gu Fei repeated her earlier inspection, pinched the soot, and finally nodded slightly. “Barely acceptable.”

With the soot in hand, she rolled up her sleeves and began to work, refusing any assistance.

She deftly removed impurities, then had the medicinal powders ground again and again, mixing them into the soot in varying amounts, repeating the process dozens of times.

Huang Pinyuan watched her every move, and behind him stood the family’s old master craftsman, there to memorize every detail—especially the proportions.

Gu Fei did not give them a glance, her hands busy as she spoke derisively, “No need to have your people steal the recipe, Master Huang. If you want the formula, I’ll give it to you later.”

Her words were sharper than a slap to the face.