Chapter Ten: A Comprehensive Guide to the Faces of All Living Beings

Dusk.

The fiery red sun stained the western sky with hues of crimson, casting the last light of the day upon the world, illuminating all living beings and their myriad expressions.

Within the Zhou residence, in the courtyard where Han Fu resided.

The courtyard was spacious—perhaps not even a tenth the size of the entire Zhou estate, yet far beyond what any ordinary household could boast.

At its center grew a crabapple tree, rising nearly thirty feet tall. It was September, and the blossoms had long since vanished, leaving only clusters of ripe fruit hanging in abundance. The fruits were not large, resembling the wild apples of Han Fu’s former northern homeland, though they were not the same species.

Apart from this tree, the courtyard was empty, unusually wide and open, much to Han Fu’s delight. Such a place was perfect for practicing martial arts and maintaining physical fitness.

Though in three days he would marry into the Zhou family, securing a place to live and never again worrying about food or clothing, Han Fu knew peace could not last. Thanks to the relentless mismanagement of Emperor Xiaokang, the current Xu Dynasty had left its people destitute and tormented, with upheaval soon to follow. When chaos erupted, even the fall of the dynasty was possible.

In such troubled times, all were as adrift as duckweed. The Zhou family too might not survive.

For Han Fu, stability was fleeting; to secure a lifetime, he must rely on himself.

He read, seeking to understand the history and culture of this world.

He practiced martial arts, so that in times of peril he might protect himself.

To be prepared in times of peace is to avert disaster.

If he were to resign himself to comfort, living a life of idleness and ease, it would be too late for regret when turmoil arrived and he found himself powerless to survive.

The main house stood with doors and windows tightly shut. The soft, flickering lamplight added gentle brightness to the room.

The furnishings were simple: a dining table just inside the door surrounded by four round stools; farther in, a scholar’s desk, complete with paper, ink, brushes, and inkstone. On the east and west sides lay beds separated by bamboo screens—the east for the master, the west for the maid.

It was customary for personal maids to reside with their master for convenience, and, when required, attend to their master’s bedchamber. Thus came the tradition of the chambermaid.

Bing’er was such a maid, though Han Fu, as a son-in-law joining the family, held no such rights.

On the table, several volumes of history were stacked—brought at the request of diligent Baili Mingda.

When Han Fu asked to read, Baili Mingda was quick to oblige, as if it were only natural.

To avoid disturbance and have some private space, Han Fu asked Baili Mingda, who had offered to accompany him in his reading, to leave.

The Xu Dynasty was wholly unlike any dynasty from his previous life, not corresponding to any known era. For instance, tables and chairs were present, yet there were no stir-fried dishes, and even some crops introduced to the Han Dynasty from the Western Regions in his former world were missing here.

Thus, Han Fu’s first task was to learn the history of this time and place, to gain as much knowledge as possible.

Absorbed in his reading, Han Fu lost track of time. Only when he finished the second book did he close his eyes for a moment of rest.

Soon, a wave of melancholy swept over him as memories from his former life flashed through his mind.

“Father, Mother, your son is unfilial, unable to stay by your side, to care for you in your old age and see you through to the end. But rest assured, I will ensure the Han family’s bloodline endures in this new world!” The sorrow surged, growing impossible to contain.

But then, another thought furrowed his brow: “It seems my DNA has changed—is it still truly the Han family’s lineage?”

This was a complex question bridging biology and theology, one Han Fu could not answer. He quickly set it aside.

What did it matter? That was a concern for the future, not for now.

For now, he would read.

With this in mind, he opened the third book.

He was soon so engrossed that even when Bing’er knocked and, receiving no answer, finally entered the room, he took no notice.

By rights, when Baili Mingsu moved to another courtyard, Bing’er, as her personal maid, should have gone with her. But Baili Mingsu had left her behind—ostensibly to care for Han Fu, but in truth with other motives.

Three days would be spent observing Han Fu’s character.

The young maid felt the weight of this task. She was inexperienced and unsure where to begin.

Earlier that afternoon, a few words from Baili Mingda had left her so embarrassed she dared not come out until now.

As for why Baili Mingda treated Han Fu with such enthusiasm, Bing’er could not be bothered to wonder. In her eyes, that young master was mercurial and unfathomable.

Bing’er brought in a tray: two dishes and a bowl of rice, both meat and vegetables, and a small plate of fish sauce.

She was surprised to see how absorbed Han Fu was in his reading.

The future son-in-law was not only talented, but also diligent and studious. Miss Baili was truly blessed... Bing’er stole a glance at Han Fu’s profile, feeling happy for Baili Mingsu and letting a faint smile touch her lips.

Remembering Baili Mingda’s blunt remarks, a blush crept across her cheeks. She quickly set the tray on the table and began, “Young—”

But she stopped herself.

The young maid realized that since her mistress and Han Fu were not yet married, she should not change the form of address.

“Young master, it’s time to eat,” Bing’er said softly.

Han Fu finally came out of his reverie, smiling faintly and about to speak, when Baili Mingda’s voice sounded at the door.

“Don’t call him young master—call him son-in-law. Mingsu and he will be married in just three days. What difference does it make?” Baili Mingda bustled in with another tray, grinning widely. “Brother-in-law, let’s eat together—good to have some company.”

He glanced at Bing’er and added, “Remember, call him son-in-law. Or, since you’re her personal maid, calling him ‘husband’ or ‘dear’ a bit early is fine, too.”

“Master Baili…” Bing’er was half-shy, half-annoyed, stamping her foot in protest.

“I’ll come back to tidy up later,” she muttered, then turned and fled.

Han Fu found it all rather entertaining and smiled. “Is this how you usually tease Bing’er, brother?”

“What teasing?” Baili Mingda replied solemnly. “I’m quite serious. She’s your chambermaid. What’s wrong with her calling you husband a little early?”

Han Fu felt a strange confusion. Why did it seem this man was more like his own brother than Baili Mingsu’s?

Though he didn’t mind being a son-in-law, encountering such a good brother-in-law was truly perplexing.

Noticing Han Fu’s doubtful look, Baili Mingda realized he’d perhaps been a bit too enthusiastic. He hurriedly shoveled food into his mouth, mumbling, “The food’s good today. Eat up, brother-in-law. Hah… Don’t look at me like that. We’ll be family soon—it’s only right I treat you well, yes, very right…”

To distract Han Fu, he pulled a book from his robe. “You love reading? So do I. After dinner, we’ll read together by candlelight.”

Han Fu glanced at the cover. Written boldly on it was “A Comprehensive Guide to the Faces of All Living Beings.”

“You’re skilled at reading faces, brother?” he asked in surprise.

“I know a little,” Baili Mingda replied, swallowing his food and puffing his chest with pride. “Actually, I’m more adept at divination; face-reading is just a new interest.”

“Oh,” Han Fu nodded, not giving it much thought, and lowered his head to eat.

Though the Xu Dynasty’s cuisine was limited to boiling, roasting, steaming, and slicing—somewhat monotonous—the flavors were genuinely good, far from the blandness described in old novels.

Food is the basis of the people. Over generations, even with only four cooking methods, the art had reached a certain height.

And the variety of sauces alone numbered in the hundreds: fish sauce, cornelian cherry sauce, meat sauce, vegetable sauce, egg sauce, frog sauce, ant sauce, tadpole sauce—everything imaginable.

Baili Mingda looked at Han Fu, hesitating as if about to speak.

Meanwhile, at the Qin residence.

General Qin Zhaoning, known as the “Sweeping Eyebrows General,” returned from long duty at the barracks, bringing her younger brother Qin Weitai home with her.