Chapter 046: Get Out of Pingcheng

Chapter 046: Get Out of Pingcheng

On the following day, the salt merchant Zhao family held a grand and imposing funeral for the prematurely deceased Young Master Zhao the Third. According to tradition, the body must lie in repose for three days, and only on the afternoon of the third day would he be laid to rest. During those three days, high monks were to be invited to recite scriptures and offer prayers for the departed.

At dawn, the matriarch of the Lin family sent for Master Fang Rulai. The old maid who came to deliver the message was exceedingly respectful: “Our old madam says, Master, you are a distinguished monk from the capital, and you have escorted our young master’s soul all the way here. Naturally, we must trouble you to see him off on this final journey as well.”

Zhu Xishi asked the old maid to wait outside briefly. As she turned to enter the room, she caught sight of Fang Rulai positively beaming with delight.

“I’ve always loved reciting the scriptures for the dead,” Fang Rulai declared, radiating pleasure.

Zhu Xishi was puzzled. “Why is that?”

With a grin, Fang Rulai slipped her prayer beads over her neck. “Om mani padme hum, all money go my home.” Such a meaningful Buddhist verse—no matter whether it truly works or not, simply chanting it brings a peculiar, self-hypnotic satisfaction. Of all the sacred phrases, this one was her favorite.

Fang Rulai’s joy was so genuine that Zhu Xishi became even more confused. “I wasn’t asking about the content of the scripture—I know that line already. I wanted to know why you enjoy reciting these particular prayers for the dead. And why do you repeat it twice? Does it mean something special if you do?”

Fang Rulai’s smile froze instantly. Indeed, after so long in this world, she was nearly forgetting the vast gulf of centuries that lay between their cultures.

Suddenly, Zhu Xishi recalled a question that had puzzled her for years. “Just what else is locked away in your mind that I can’t even begin to comprehend? Why is it that every time I think I finally understand you, you blurt out something new and strange, reminding me I barely know you at all? And years ago, when I revived you in the hills, the first thing you said to me was ‘Are we filming?’ I’ve never figured out what you meant by that...”

While Zhu Xishi chattered away, Fang Rulai’s gaze grew shadowed. But as Zhu Xishi drew nearer, the trace of sorrow vanished without a trace.

“Let’s go. Didn’t I tell you last night there’d be a spectacle today? Aren’t you coming to watch?” Fang Rulai said as she walked out the door.

Her pace was a touch too hurried, and she accidentally bumped into the half-open door on her way out. She managed an embarrassed smile, said nothing, and continued on her way.

Zhu Xishi hurried after her, but saw only the billowing, earth-colored monk’s robe, suddenly stark and out of place against the lush, green backdrop of spring.

A pang of sorrow twisted Zhu Xishi’s heart. She called out to the empty air, “Banxia, if your master dares to break this one’s heart, I swear on my pig-slaughtering skills, I’ll fight him to the bitter end!”

No answer came from the sky, but a sharp wind swept fiercely across Zhu Xishi’s face, as if indignantly protesting the insult to its master’s character, before rushing off in Fang Rulai’s direction.

Outside the courtyard, two sedan chairs had long been waiting. Fang Rulai and Zhu Xishi entered in turn, and were carried toward the Zhao family’s main residence.

At the gates, a steady throng of mourners had already gathered, weaving in and out in a ceaseless tide.

Just as Guan Shiyin’s information had suggested, the Zhao family might only be humble salt merchants, but the network of connections built over a hundred years of salt trading was unmatched by any other merchant in Pingcheng.

Look at the people coming and going at the gate—their solemn faces all the same, but their attire wildly different. There were porters and peddlers in simple garb, shop owners in flowing robes, plain-faced, struggling women, and well-to-do ladies of rank surrounded by their retinues.

Fang Rulai unconsciously straightened her robe. These people, in the near future, might well become the mouthpieces for the rumors she needed spread. She had to make the best possible first impression.

She even controlled the curve of her smile to the precise degree—neither too much nor too little—before stepping out of the sedan chair with dignity.

But the moment her feet touched the ground, her composure wavered.

“Look, look! Isn’t that the rumored monk who traveled to Pingcheng with the widow?” someone whispered.

“Let me see! Oh my, he’s handsome enough to make anyone’s heart flutter. No wonder a widow would throw caution to the wind and live under the same roof with him.”

“What? So not only did they journey together, they’re living together as well? Scandalous!”

“Exactly! A lone man and a widow, both young and full of passion—who’d believe nothing’s happening between them? Tell that to the birds!”

In an instant, every bystander, regardless of trade or station, transformed into a gossip-monger.

Fang Rulai’s smile turned cold. She hadn’t yet mastered the narrative, and already someone adept at it had beaten her to the punch. Zhao’s third son had died in a foreign land; the family’s only remaining child was gone as well. The grandson, though legitimate, was only four years old. Shouldn’t everyone be focused on whether the Zhao family would fall, and which branch would inherit the power? Yet no one mentioned it. Instead, all conversation centered on her supposed affair with Zhu Xishi. Why? What was their purpose? And who, among the various branches, had planted the story about her living with the widow?

“Make way, please! This is the esteemed monk from the capital, invited by the old madam to recite prayers for the young master’s soul. The old madam is waiting in the mourning hall,” the old maid announced, bowing as she led the way.

Suppressing her irritation, Fang Rulai followed, realizing these people were merely tools—there was no point in blaming them. The only solution was to get inside and find the mastermind behind the slander.

Unfortunately, when Zhu Xishi alighted from her sedan chair, even entering the Zhao residence became difficult.

“Look, isn’t that the infamous widow getting out of the chair behind him?”

“Yes, that’s her! Just look at that face—what normal family’s child, especially a widow, looks so seductively foxy?”

“How can someone of such loose morals be allowed into the upright Zhao household to offer condolences? No, we can’t let them in!”

“That’s right! They don’t even belong in Pingcheng. They should be driven out at once!”

“Out! Out of Pingcheng!” someone shouted, and soon a chorus rose as the mourners swiftly formed a human barricade before the gates.

Zhu Xishi had never suffered such indignity. Hands on her hips, she shoved Fang Rulai behind her and strode to the front.

“What are you all yammering about? So what if I’m a widow? So what if I have a foxy face that turns heads? Do you know how hard it is to look like this?” Zhu Xishi jabbed her finger so close to the nose of the foremost heckler it nearly touched. “Just because you spew filth from your mouth, I don’t say you’re rotten inside. Just because you’ve a mole at your eye, I don’t spread rumors your ancestors had no virtue. And you, and you, and you! You’re all ugly as gourds—does that mean your parents were thieves and scoundrels?”

“Hey, watch your tongue…” someone tried to retort, but Zhu Xishi, faster and fiercer, cut them off.

“What’s wrong with my tongue? I’m just speaking in your Pingcheng style—judging hearts by faces! Ha, who’d have thought everyone in Pingcheng was a reincarnated immortal with second sight! In that case, it’s you lot who should get out. This isn’t a city for immortals—hurry up and ascend to heaven, there’s no room for you here!”

Having been a widow for five years, and having supported herself by slaughtering pigs, Zhu Xishi was never one to shy from a war of words. In these times, those who swallowed their anger were either bullied to death or forced to endure in constant, wary patience. With her fiery temper, how could she ever endure? If only she’d brought her butcher’s knife today, she wouldn’t have to waste breath—one wave of the blade, and she believed the path to the mourning hall would be cleared instantly.

“Out of my way! I’m here to pay my respects, not to waste time trading insults with you would-be immortals!” she declared, preparing to force her way through.

At that moment, a voice called from beyond the crowd, “So, widow, are you only angry because you’ve been exposed?”

The measured tone was calm, but the words struck right at Zhu Xishi’s emotional weak spot.

She instantly leapt to defend herself. “Who’s been exposed? Who’s angry?”

Unfortunately, her flushed face and bulging neck told a different story, and the onlookers’ eyes grew more contemptuous as they shushed her.

The voice continued, “Then perhaps you can calmly explain the details of your journey with the monk? Or, to prove your innocence, would you care to explain why you personally cooked a bowl of braised pork for him last night and brought it to his room?”

An uproar followed.

“What? She made braised pork for a monk?”

“So he’s no real monk at all!”

“My goodness! What’s going on? The widow cooks pork for a monk and delivers it to his room in the night? Could it be there really is something between them? Heaven help us—how can such shameless people exist in our country? Disgraceful!”

“Enough talk—get them out of Pingcheng! Out, now!”

This time, the clamor for expulsion swelled with even greater force. Zhu Xishi tried to shout back several times but was drowned out. Now, armed with juicier gossip, the mob surged forward, emboldened by their newfound righteousness. They pressed in, chests puffed as though they were warriors defending their homeland, and soon Zhu Xishi and Fang Rulai were cornered against the wall.

(A heartfelt thanks to Choudan Haha for the flowers! Thank you—Qingye is working hard~)