Chapter Thirty-One: Hysteria
Wu Changlu taught Wu Ning the principles of righteousness, the foundation of one’s character.
Yet, when contending with Qin Wenyuan, it was a matter of dealing with people—a different art entirely. The two are related, but do not conflict. One cannot extend the goodwill meant for others to someone like Qin Wenyuan, at least not bare your heart upon first meeting. That would be naïve kindness and inevitably lead to a heavy loss.
Wu Ning was committed to Wu Changlu’s uprightness, and he could follow the rules of survival in this era. He could even be a “good man.” But Wu Ning could not discard the awareness forged in later times. He would rather be a cunning benefactor than an honest weakling.
Perhaps, possessing both the righteousness of the Tang Dynasty and the shrewdness of the future is his greatest advantage as a traveler with nothing else to his name.
...
To return to the matter, Qin Wenyuan was truly outmaneuvered by Wu Ning this time.
He had prepared himself—even if Wu Ning demanded an outrageous price, he could barely accept it, for Wu Ning was Wu Changlu’s nephew. To forge a bond with an official of the military government was worth any price.
But he had not expected Wu Ning to refrain from naming a price. How was he to pay, then? Take it for free? Impossible. Wu Changlu would never allow that—the matter of pride. For a merchant to take advantage of his nephew? That would not be forming a bond, but sowing enmity.
Yet, how much should he offer? Qin Wenyuan truly did not know, but he was certain it would not be a small sum.
...
Upon returning home, he personally instructed his steward to make purchases at the market, ensuring no one else saw. When the items were brought back, he slipped into the kitchen himself to try his hand.
He tinkered away the entire afternoon, and when he finally tested it, Qin Wenyuan was moved nearly to tears.
It worked. No matter the dish or soup, just a spoonful transformed the flavor, making it delicious beyond compare. The miraculous effect of the seasoning in Tang was fully revealed.
But if it was so effective, why did Qin Wenyuan weep?
Because his mind was now consumed by one thought: How much must I pay that little rascal?
He locked himself in the kitchen for half a day, pondering the matter, until the cook came in to prepare supper, snapping him out of his reverie.
He hurriedly poured out the pot of broth he’d made, cleaned the stove until not a trace remained, and exited the kitchen.
He summoned his steward, Qin Fu. “How much silver is left in the accounts?”
“Master, we just did the books two days ago. There’s roughly six or seven hundred strings of silver available.”
“What?” Qin Wenyuan was startled. “Why so little?”
“Master, Miss Miao...”
“What about Miao?”
“A few days ago, she withdrew five hundred strings for incense money for the Guanyin Temple.”
...
Qin Wenyuan nearly leapt up in anger at the news. “Five hundred strings donated to the temple! She... she, she...”
He spluttered, but could not bring himself to utter the words “wasteful.”
Qin Wenyuan, late in life blessed with a single daughter, cherished her deeply and would not curse his precious girl over mere worldly possessions.
“Let it be.”
He sighed heavily and instructed, “Withdraw five hundred strings from the accounts and deliver them to Seeking Jade Residence at the southern foot of the city, and say... ‘Thank you for your generous gift.’”
The words, “Thank you for your generous gift,” were spoken through gritted teeth.
Qin Fu did not understand why his master was suddenly spending such a large sum, but as a servant, he dared not question and quietly withdrew.
Qin Wenyuan watched Qin Fu’s retreating figure, his face devoid of any smile.
He had built his fortune from nothing, relying on his own skills. Even as a merchant, enduring disdain, he accepted it because he knew in this world, with wealth, anything else could be sought in time.
But now, he was old. After he was gone, how much of this fortune could be preserved?
Rely on his otherworldly, delicate daughter?
Thinking of this, Qin Wenyuan shook his head.
Qin Miaomiao could recite poetry in the tower, play the lute at the table, but managing the family business was beyond her.
Frankly, the reason he spared no effort and spent heavily to obtain Wu Jiulang’s secret recipe was precisely for this.
Even if the family business were to falter, with the recipe, the restaurant might yet endure, giving Miaomiao something to rely on.
Or perhaps, he should quickly find a husband for her?
At this thought, the cunning face of Wu Ning suddenly appeared in Qin Wenyuan’s mind.
That boy, despite his youth, was clearly, by Qin Wenyuan’s seasoned eye, someone skilled in management and destined for success.
If he could bring Wu Ning into the family, the Qin business would surely thrive.
But as he pondered, Qin Wenyuan began to doubt.
Wu Ning was too clever, too calculating; his naïve daughter would be no match for him.
The business might flourish, but would it be Qin’s or Wu’s? That was uncertain.
Worse yet, after a few years, when Miaomiao’s beauty faded, he might seek another and cast her out—what then?
The more he thought, the more uneasy he felt, nearly to the point of hysteria.
In his mind, Wu Ning had become the faithless, scheming Tang counterpart of Chen Shimei.
“My daughter must never fall into that boy’s hands!”
...
“Father!”
Just then, a gentle voice pulled Qin Wenyuan from his imaginings.
He looked up. “Miaomiao...”
Before him stood a young maiden, dressed in light robes and gauzy skirts, graceful and poised—his precious daughter.
He feigned a stern face. “What are you doing here in the smoky kitchen, Miaomiao?”
...
The girl, hearing his words, brushed her sleeve lightly, remaining unhurried, her voice melodious.
“I heard you spent the afternoon in the kitchen, Father. I was worried and came to check.”
“There’s nothing to see.” Qin Wenyuan replied as he pushed Qin Miaomiao away.
“Go, go, go—don’t let my precious daughter smell like mutton.”
...
“Miaomiao!”
Father and daughter strolled slowly through the vast estate.
“Donated to the temple again?”
“Mm.” Qin Miaomiao replied softly, then fell silent.
“Ah!” Qin Wenyuan sighed and gently advised, “Could we donate less in the future? After all...”
He wanted to say, after all, your father’s money doesn’t grow on trees.
But before he finished, Qin Miaomiao said, “The Guanyin Temple has taken in many homeless beggars and fugitives lately. Seeing their plight, I donated some money and established a porridge kitchen. I thought it might bring blessings for you.”
“Oh... oh.”
Qin Wenyuan swallowed his words.
“Good deed. Father supports you.”
“Mm.”
Qin Miaomiao replied softly, saying nothing more.
...
“By the way,” Qin Wenyuan continued, “I went to the Immortal’s Temple today, hoping to ask Master Xiao for a fortune slip for you. Unfortunately, too many people were on the mountain, and I couldn’t manage.”
“Mm.”
“Perhaps after a few days, when the crowds thin, you can go up yourself and have Master Xiao read your face.”
“Mm.”
“...” Qin Wenyuan had no more words. His daughter was always so serene and reserved.
“All right, go rest now. When supper is ready, I’ll call you.”
Qin Miaomiao brushed her sleeve. “Thank you, Father.”
“Mm.” Qin Wenyuan walked away, hands behind his back.
After a few steps, he seemed to recall something. “Oh, right...”
“When you go up the mountain, stay away from Seeking Jade Residence!”
...