Chapter Twenty-Four: Sharing the Room Tonight—A Special Invitation from Zhou Yuanshan

In front of Bai Li Mingsu’s courtyard, the two parted ways.

“Husband.”

Gazing at Han Fu’s receding figure, Bai Li Mingsu hesitated for a moment before saying, “Tonight, why don’t you move in and stay with me?”

He stopped and turned back, meeting her eyes for an instant. All he saw was his newlywed wife’s calm face, with a faint, gentle smile at the corners of her lips.

Moving in didn’t mean consummation... Han Fu certainly didn’t believe that this clever, strong-willed new wife of his would suddenly change her mind just because of a few words from Lady Zhou.

“All right,” he replied with a smile.

She nodded in return.

And then, with words left unspoken, both broke into quiet smiles.

Nothing had been said, and yet everything was understood.

So the young lord and lady were to share a room tonight... The simple-minded maids, with their innocent views, overheard the exchange and assumed their master and mistress would finally complete the wedding night that had been postponed.

Ping’er and Lian’er became excited, exchanging furtive glances, waggling their eyebrows, and even covering their mouths to stifle giggles.

The marriage between Bai Li Mingsu and Han Fu was an undeniable fact, and unchangeable now. As her personal maids, the two naturally wished for harmony and intimacy between husband and wife. Sharing a room would surely be the best beginning to such harmony.

Bai Li Mingsu turned and entered the courtyard. Just then, a swift gust of wind swept past, setting her white dress fluttering and outlining the graceful curves of her figure.

Han Fu took a careful look, then turned away without lingering.

“Master, wait for me...”

Ping’er, still caught up in exchanging glances with Lian’er, suddenly realized Han Fu had already walked ten meters ahead. Only then did she come to her senses and hurriedly ran after him.

The prospect of the young lord and lady sharing a bed tonight filled Ping’er with such excitement that she forgot all about the embarrassment of that morning. Following behind Han Fu, a smile never left her lips, and she even skipped joyfully once or twice.

Han Fu found it rather amusing that the little maid seemed even happier than he was.

He wondered, though—if he told Ping’er that, though her mistress had agreed to share a room tonight, there would be no consummation, would that smile on her round face vanish in an instant, turning joy to disappointment?

Best not to tease the girl... Han Fu shook his head and said, “Today, I’d like to practice calligraphy.”

“I’ll fetch ink, brushes, paper, and inkstone,” Ping’er answered quickly, turning to dash off, her steps light and eager.

No one had lived in Han Fu’s courtyard before, so the usual supplies for writing and painting hadn’t been provided. When he first arrived, he spent his days reading or exercising, never touching ink or brush, and so had never mentioned it to Ping’er.

Now that the wedding was over, and he had finished reading the historical texts and the “Records of Zhaoyu,” it was time to pick up the brush and practice the Willow Script—a style unknown in this world.

If he delayed any longer, he feared he might lose his touch.

As for what to read next, he already had a plan in mind.

Stepping into the room, Han Fu sat in silence for a while, pondering a question.

What could he write that would both hone his calligraphy and bring in some income?

He could simply ask Bai Li Mingda to bring him a book at random and use its contents for practice, but while that would improve his writing, the paper would be wasted, ending up as nothing but scrap.

Such an outcome was less than ideal.

If he drew from his memories of his past life—using stories and tales unknown in this world, but sure to appeal to local tastes—he could practice calligraphy while creating original manuscripts, which could then be published for profit.

Why not take advantage of that?

Money and provisions—the essential resources for rebellion.

It was prudent to prepare in advance.

Relying on the household’s fixed monthly allowance, even a hundred years wouldn’t be enough to raise an army.

Though writing books offered little profit, every great journey begins with a single step. To achieve great things, one must accumulate from the smallest beginnings.

By earning initial capital from publishing, he could then seek greater gains—a sound and steady plan.

Having reached this conclusion, Han Fu’s mind was made up.

“Master.”

Soon, Ping’er returned, arms full with the four treasures of the scholar’s study, and behind her was a maid Han Fu didn’t recognize, who looked a few years older than Ping’er.

After placing the writing supplies on the desk, Ping’er continued, “This is Cui’e from the main house.”

Han Fu nodded, looking at Cui’e as he asked, “What brings you here?”

She bowed respectfully, as was the strict custom in the Zhou household, then replied, “The eldest young master has business with you and sent me to invite you.”

She was Zhou Yuanshan’s personal maid, proper in appearance but without formal status.

“Very well, lead the way,” Han Fu said, rising without inquiring further. Even if he asked, Cui’e probably wouldn’t know, and besides, he already had his suspicions.

Yesterday Zhou Qing had been punished, and likely named him. Zhou Yuanshan was probably summoning him for questioning... but Han Fu was unfazed.

“Yes, sir.”

As Cui’e turned to lead the way, Han Fu said, “You don’t need to wait for me—go about your business.”

Ping’er, busy tidying the writing desk and arranging the supplies in order, replied, “Yes, Master. I’ll head to the mistress’s rooms afterward to see if she needs anything.”

“Good.”

Following Cui’e out of the small courtyard and east along the path, they passed through the central wing before reaching the eastern wing.

Along the way, they encountered several lower-ranking maids and servants sweeping leaves in the courtyards. When they saw Han Fu, each greeted him respectfully as “Master.”

In any prominent and affluent household, the maids and servants were divided by rank.

The higher-ranking maids attended to daily living—serving tea, making beds, and were often called “personal maids.” Ping’er, Lian’er, Cui’e, and even Bai Li Mingda’s close maid Lan’er were all of this category.

Second-rank maids had lighter duties such as tending birds and flowers or sweeping and heating water.

As for washing clothes, cooking, and cleaning the grounds, those were the tasks of the lowest-ranking maids, whose status was lowest in the household hierarchy.

Thus, even though Han Fu was looked down upon as a son-in-law by marriage, these lesser maids and servants still treated him with utmost caution and respect.

In recent days, Han Fu had quietly observed that the rank of maids in the Zhou household was closely tied to their looks.

Bai Li Mingda had once whispered to him that in the palace there was another class of maid, known as the “Beauty’s Cup.”

They were beautiful as peach blossoms and as fragrant as orchids.

But their particular duty was revolting... Whenever the emperor spat, the Beauty’s Cup would have to open her mouth so that the emperor could spit into it, and then swallow.

This type of maid was an innovation of Emperor Xiaokang.

Truly repugnant... The evils of the feudal society.

Before long, Han Fu followed Cui’e into the main house’s courtyard.

There were two trees in the yard—one jujube tree, and another jujube tree.

Passing beneath them, Cui’e led Han Fu to a side room and said, “Please wait here, sir.”

With that, she entered to announce his arrival, and in a moment returned to say, “Please come in.”

Han Fu nodded and stepped inside.

The room was clearly not a bedchamber, but had been modified. On one side stood bookshelves and desks, on the other, a square table with armchairs—clearly intended by Zhou Yuanshan for receiving guests.

After all, in the Zhou household, Zhou Xinyi was the true master, so Zhou Yuanshan couldn’t always use the main hall at will, unless the visitor was of exceptional status.

Zhou Yuanshan was seated, sipping tea. When he saw Han Fu enter, he didn’t acknowledge him immediately, but continued to sip his tea slowly and deliberately. Only after a few slurps did he set the cup down and look at Han Fu with a blank expression.

A show of authority, it seemed.

Han Fu was unmoved, and in a tone that was half curiosity, half indifference, asked, “May I ask what advice my elder brother has for me?”

“Hmph...”

Zhou Yuanshan’s face darkened. He reached into his robe and pulled out three copper coins, tossing them onto the table. “These belong to my brother-in-law, do they not?”