59. The Ink Treasure Auction

The ink stick was long and slender, adorned with delicate white plum blossoms. The ink it produced was rich and viscous, its darkness deep and mysterious, much like emotions that refused to dissipate.

Gu Fei dipped her brush lightly into the ink. As her long sleeves brushed over the white paper, she began to write but only rendered a single character—"one." Its silkworm head and swallow tail strokes were both bold and graceful, ringing with strength yet not lacking in refinement.

The ink, neither too light nor too heavy, did not bleed. Its hue deepened from the outer edges of the character inward, resembling the varied rings of an ancient tree.

Leaning in, Gu Fei inhaled gently from left to right, and as she lifted her head, her brows relaxed and her lips curled into a smile. This ink stick, crafted according to her final formula, revealed a subtle sandalwood fragrance, identical to the incense found in temples. At first, the scent was faint, but as the character dried, the sandalwood grew ever more pronounced.

Gu Fei believed that with time, the works written with this ink would carry an enduring fragrance. Blended with the unique scent of the fine paper, the aroma would become distinct, incomparable to any other.

Though she had succeeded in creating the aromatic ink, Gu Fei felt no joy. She replaced her brush on its rack, joined her hands atop the armrests of her wheelchair, and her thoughts drifted back to the weighty words Mo Yuhua had spoken days before.

She had given Mo Yuhua no clear answer, and wisely refrained from probing further. Mo Yuhua himself seemed in no hurry to press her; he asked, then departed with deliberate ease.

Her face betrayed no emotion, and shadows gathered at her porcelain-like neck, as dense as the ink in the stone.

Earlier, at the Ink Society, she had fabricated the lie that Gu Wanting had difficulty bearing children, hoping to sow discord between the Mo and Huang families and perhaps sever their alliance. Upon discovering that Mo Yuhua was playing along, his intentions toward Gu Wanting far from pure, she had abandoned that plan, turning her focus instead to the upcoming bloodline recognition ceremony.

Later, as Gu Wanting became increasingly volatile, lashing out at anyone in her path, Gu Fei let the matter drop from her mind—until now, when Mo Yuhua unexpectedly raised it again.

Initially, Madam Cui had wanted her and Gu Wanting to marry into the same family, but Gu Zhong intervened, shifting his attention to Gu Rou. Knowing escape was impossible, Gu Rou feigned madness—a pretense maintained to this day. If not for Gu Wanting’s imminent wedding, perhaps everyone would have forgotten her entirely.

Gu Fei rubbed her brow, carefully stored away the aromatic ink, and kept no written formula. Every detail of its preparation remained clear in her memory.

When Nurse Ku arrived, Gu Fei instructed her quietly, “Fetch Gu Zhong later and tell him the aromatic ink is complete.”

Unable to fathom Mo Yuhua’s intentions, Gu Fei set the matter aside for now, turning her attention to what lay ahead.

According to her original plan, every family—Mo, Huang, and the others—had suffered losses before Linlang Pavilion. With ready silver in short supply, if the Huang family seized the moment to innovate and hold a special ink auction, they could quickly amass liquid assets. By recruiting a few experienced ink masters, they might deal a decisive blow to their rivals.

With the formula in her possession, the Huang family would reap great rewards. Gu Zhong, ambitious as ever, would not resign himself to a stagnant existence. Any merchant with a trace of cunning yearned for supremacy—and Gu Zhong was no exception.

To achieve such ends, Gu Zhong could rely on none but her—Gu Fei. Even if the Gu family’s eldest legitimate son returned soon, the outcome was set; authority in the family had already shifted to her.

Once news spread to the capital that she had survived in Yizhou, she need not fear. Having established roots in Yizhou, she finally possessed a foothold of her own.

Gu Fei’s plans were meticulous, each step interlocking with the next. Yet the one variable she had not anticipated was Gu Zhong’s lack of nerve.

When she saw his eyes light up at the sight of the aromatic ink, yet still clouded with hesitation, she knew she must persuade him with all her skill.

She had always excelled at reading hearts and anticipated Gu Zhong’s reactions well. What she overlooked was his innate aversion to risk. The modest family fortune had kept him comfortable for decades; he aspired to become Yizhou’s leading merchant but dreaded squandering everything even more.

With a sigh, Gu Fei sipped her cool tea and pointed to the ink in Gu Zhong’s hand. “I dare say, this aromatic ink is unique in all of Yizhou. You know the value of such exclusivity better than I. If we send this ink to the authorities, perhaps one day all the ink sticks in the temples and halls will be replaced with this sandalwood-infused variety. After all, the items closest to the Buddha must also possess the greatest spirit.”

She did not need to elaborate—Gu Zhong understood whom she meant by “the authorities.”

In the flourishing Yin dynasty, fine ink was prized not only by scholars but by common folk as well. Whoever owned such an ink stick could pass it down as an heirloom.

Ink was not merely a symbol of scholarly attainment, but a mark of refined restraint and nobility.

Its depth was neither clear nor opaque, its darkness neither obvious nor obscure—reserved, hidden, and elegant, concealing an inner strength.

Thus, since the dawn of the dynasty, the Office of Inks had been established, distinct from the Ink Guild, and directly overseen by the emperor. Tribute ink for the court came solely from here, with a competition held every four years to select the best offerings.

Gu Fei’s reference to “the authorities” was to the Office of Inks.

Gu Zhong rolled the aromatic ink between his fingers. Though its appearance was modest, the delicate sandalwood aroma rose in faint wisps, soothing the soul as if washing away worldly cares.

His heart wavered. He knew Gu Fei spoke the truth—this ink was truly rare, perhaps unique in all the land. Yet, if he placed his bet wrong, the Gu family would be doomed. He did not wholly trust Gu Fei, whose return to the family had been shadowed by intrigue during the recognition ceremony.

Gu Fei understood his doubts. She coughed lightly and pressed her advantage. “If you can’t decide, then I’ll sell the formula to the Mo family. After all, we’re soon to be related by marriage. With the wedding fast approaching, surely the Mo family won’t turn their backs on us so quickly…”

“No!” Gu Zhong cut her off before she could finish.

He looked intently at the ink in his hand, stroked his black beard, and gazed at her. “Fei, tell me honestly—how skilled are you at ink-making?”

Even as he neared a decision, Gu Zhong remained cautious.

With a mocking smile, Gu Fei replied, “If I said I’m already at the level of a master, would you feel more at ease? If so, then consider it so.”

She exaggerated, offering not a hint of truth. Now was not the time to reveal all her cards. If Gu Zhong knew her true abilities, who could say how he might use her in the future?

Seeing he could pry nothing useful from her, Gu Zhong pondered for a long while before finally steeling himself. “One kind of aromatic ink alone is not enough for an auction. If you can produce several more inks of such quality, I will support the auction to the end.”