Madam Wang only reminded her, “Be careful in all things!”

Fan Changyu replied, “You too, Auntie.”

The carriage slowed, and when no one was around, Fan Changyu got off, winding through several turns into a narrow alley and making her way toward the county magistrate’s residence.

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

When Fan Changyu arrived at the magistrate’s gate, she found that Madam Song was there as well.

She crouched in the shadows and saw Madam Song standing at the county magistrate’s gate with a very young maid, carrying large bundles in both hands. Her face was stretched into a flattering smile.

“Yan-ge’er is about to go to the capital to sit for the examinations,” she said sweetly. “He misses the young lady dearly, so he had me buy all these little trinkets for her…”

The steward at the door replied, “Scholar Song is most thoughtful.”

He ordered the servant behind him to take the jewelry and hair ornaments Madam Song had reluctantly spent money on, but said nothing about inviting her in for tea.

Madam Song’s smile was so stiff it nearly cracked. After being turned away for several days in a row, and now, even after spending good silver on gifts only to be ignored again, she was unwilling to accept defeat. 

She said, “A few days ago, Madam praised the pattern of the shoes I made. I came today to share some tea with Madam and to bring her the shoe pattern.”

The steward merely said, “The Madam has caught a chill and has yet to recover. If there is something Madam Song wishes to give her, please hand it to this old servant.”

At first, Madam Song had thought the magistrate’s household not so grand. Once Song Yan achieved a high rank, the magistrate’s daughter might not even be a suitable match. But as long as they were still living in this county, they couldn’t do without the magistrate’s favor, so she had kept close with the magistrate’s wife.

Previously, when the magistrate’s wife had been eager to settle her children’s marriages, Madam Song’s little abacus clattered in her mind—dangling the promise of being a “Scholar’s mother” or even “a Jinshi’s mother” to keep the magistrate’s wife and daughter enticed, yet never actually agreeing to a betrothal.

When the magistrate’s wife pressed too hard, Madam Song would burst into tears and bring up how Song Yan had only just broken off an engagement, saying he was a filial son who did it for her sake, even if it made him seem heartless and unfaithful. She would then lament that the butcher Fan family was spreading talk everywhere that the Songs had wronged them—and if Song Yan became engaged again too soon, that Fan girl’s resentment might drive her to gossip, which would harm Song Yan’s official prospects. 

“Since our two families will become in-laws sooner or later,” she would conclude, “why rush it now?”

The magistrate’s wife had been taken in by these words, and the two women often drank tea and watched operas together. The magistrate’s wife had always treated her warmly.

During the New Year, when Song Yan had caused a scandal with the Fan girl at the lantern festival, Madam Song had felt humiliated beyond words.

Afraid that the magistrate’s wife might now look down on her son—though she had originally only meant to “ride the donkey while looking for a horse”—this incident made her uneasy. If her son failed to pass the imperial exams and could not become an official in the capital, then marrying into the magistrate’s family would still be the most prestigious match in Qingping County. Thus, on the second day of the new year, she brought gifts to the magistrate’s residence to pay her respects—only to be shut out at the door.

That day, she returned home nearly sick with anger. Fearing to distract her son from his studies, she didn’t tell Song Yan, but she swore to herself she would mend relations with the magistrate’s household. For the past several days, she had been sending gifts one after another.

When the path through the magistrate’s wife proved closed, she tried approaching the magistrate’s daughter instead—but even after all her efforts, she still couldn’t get past the gate.

Madam Song felt as though her dignity had been torn from her face and thrown underfoot. When she left, she could no longer even force a smile. Her face darkened like iron; only after turning the corner did she dare spit fiercely several times onto the ground.

“What are they, really? Just the daughter of a mere county magistrate! Do they think my Yan-ge’er is begging to marry her? Shameless—taking my gifts with open hands yet not even letting me in for a cup of tea!”

At a nearby stall, Fan Changyu turned her back and pretended to examine the wares, hearing every word clearly. She cast a sidelong glance at Madam Song as she walked away. Though she had long ceased to care about the Song family, seeing Madam Song’s face twisted with spite, she could not help but sigh softly to herself—evil meets its own reward.

She thought to herself that it would be best if the county magistrate’s family had finally seen through what kind of people that mother and son truly were and that was why they refused to entertain them.

Circling around to the back wall of the magistrate’s residence, she climbed up the tree growing close to the wall and slipped over into the courtyard.

Constable Wang had served as a constable for over ten years, working under several magistrates, and knew the layout of this residence well. After studying the map Madam Wang had given her, Fan Changyu could roughly understand the structure of the estate. This area should be the kitchen.

She pressed close to the wall, moving silently along. After slipping through a carved-flower gate, she happened to see the steward entering and quickly hid behind the corner of the wall.

The steward was pleading with a man who looked like a guard. “Sir, these are all gifts from our future young master to the young lady. Please, have some mercy—let this humble one deliver them to her.”

The steward of the magistrate’s household begging a guard for permission?

Something was clearly wrong. Fan Changyu pricked up her ears.

The guard only gave a cold sneer. “Throw them in the side room with the rest of that junk. If a single word leaks out, none of you will keep your heads!”

The steward was clearly frightened, nodding and mumbling, not daring to say another word.

Fan Changyu suddenly realized that whoever had seized control of the magistrate’s residence was no ordinary force. She slowed and quieted her breathing, keeping it long and shallow.

She noticed that the snow in the courtyard had not been swept away. She didn’t know whether the magistrate’s family was being held hostage and the servants were slacking off, or whether someone had ordered that the snow not be cleared.

After all, with the snow left on the ground, anyone walking through the courtyard—no matter how light-footed—would still make noise.

As she pondered this, footsteps suddenly came from behind.

She turned and met the gaze of a young maid carrying a tray.

The maid opened her mouth to scream, but before she could make a sound, Fan Changyu darted forward and struck the side of her neck with the edge of her hand. The maid crumpled at once. Fan Changyu caught the falling tray with one hand, supported the maid with the other, glanced quickly around, nudged open the door of a nearby room with her foot, and carried the maid inside.

Moments later, Fan Changyu emerged dressed in the maid’s uniform, carrying the tray openly in her hands.

When she turned the corner, a guard under the eaves glanced at her. Fan Changyu kept her head low and walked past, heading in the same direction the steward had gone.

She had already memorized the map, and her sense of direction was keen. Guided by the residence’s layout, she soon found the steward’s quarters without much effort.

When she pushed the door open, the steward was sitting slumped in a chair, lost in gloom. Seeing her, he nearly leapt out of his skin, falling to the floor with a cry. Grimacing in pain, he still tried to maintain the dignity of an old house steward and barked with a cold face, “Which household’s maid are you? How dare you come barging in like this!”

Fan Changyu reasoned that since even the magistrate himself was being held under watch, the order to dismiss Constable Wang could not have come from him. The magistrate was probably counting on Wang to save his life.

So she said, “I’m one of Constable Wang’s people.”

The anger on the steward’s face froze, then nearly turned to tears of relief. “Trust Constable Wang to be sharp-eyed, he must have already realized something’s wrong in the county office these days…”

Fan Changyu saw that he looked ready to weep and pour out a long complaint, so she frowned and cut him off, asking only what she needed to know.

“What’s going on in this residence?”

The steward, tears welling, said, “Some days ago, didn’t Jizhou Prefecture issue the order to requisition grain? A team of soldiers carrying Jizhou Prefecture’s command tokens came here to supervise the matter. My master, upon hearing that they meant to collect one shi of grain per person, pleaded that such an order would drive the common people to despair. But the officials from above forced him to comply, pressing him with the grain-requisition edict.”

“My master had no choice but to issue the order. But the soldiers who went out to collect the grain killed several farmers in the countryside. My master, fearing that if word reached Lord He of Jizhou Prefecture his official hat would not be safe, intended to go to Jizhou himself to confess his fault. Yet before he could do so, he was detained by those very soldiers. They claimed to serve under the Northwestern Military Commissioner Wei Xuan and said all matters were to follow their command. Now Lord He himself has been dismissed by that same commissioner, and they accuse my master of obstructing the grain-requisition efforts. He is now imprisoned in his own residence; even Madam and the young lady are forbidden to go out or receive guests.”

Fan Changyu’s brows knit tighter still. She had heard of Wei Xuan’s name before—the massacre during the grain collection in Taizhou had been caused by his indulgence of his subordinates.

Her heart wavered. If this Wei Xuan truly was a ruthless man who forced grain collection through such cruelty, then even if Constable Wang managed to calm the rioters at the city gates, what would it matter if Wei Xuan later brought his army to slaughter the commoners again?

Fan Changyu thought for a moment and said, “Then why don’t we just tie up the officer Wei Xuan sent here? Once he’s bound, the magistrate can return the grain to the people.”

If they captured the man in charge, he wouldn’t be able to give the order to kill the farmers.

The steward’s lips trembled so hard that he barely heard the second half of her words—just the first half nearly scared his soul away. “T–tie him up? There are more than ten soldiers in this residence, all highly skilled in martial arts. The county office is full of their men as well. How could we possibly capture them?”

Fan Changyu said, “Can’t you just use some kind of drug to knock them out?”

The steward looked her up and down, doubting inwardly—Is she really someone Constable Wang sent to help?

To kidnap a military officer from Jizhou Prefecture—what a colossal crime that would be! If those men sought revenge afterward, even all the heads in this household wouldn’t be enough to appease them!

He waved his hands frantically. “No, no! How would my master ever explain himself to those military lords afterward?”

Fan Changyu knew the plan was indeed reckless, but the magistrate had held office in Qingping County for three years—while not guilty of great evils, he had done little good for the people either. This was the only way left. If the magistrate had to take the fall, then so be it.

She said coldly, “The soldiers have already killed people in Ma Family Village. The commoners nearby have been driven to revolt, and thousands of them are now gathering to storm the county office. Do you think your master won’t be pushed out as a scapegoat when the time comes? And you, the magistrate’s steward—don’t you think those rioters will hold a grudge against you as well?”

The steward’s lips trembled again. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “There’s no knockout drug in the residence, and those men are extremely cautious. Anything that enters their mouths is first tasted by the servants.”

That left Fan Changyu momentarily at a loss.

The steward, seeing her frustration, added reluctantly, “However… there’s croton seed in the residence. The kitchen is currently cooking white fungus and lotus seed soup.”

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

A short while later, Fan Changyu carried a tray, followed by a young servant holding a wooden bucket, and headed toward the front courtyard.

On Fan Changyu’s tray sat a white porcelain bowl. Inside it, a large snow pear had been sliced open at the top, the flesh scooped out, and the hollow filled with white fungus and lotus seed soup before the pear’s “lid” was placed back on. It had been gently simmered over a low flame.

Even through the porcelain, one could smell not only the delicate fragrance of the white fungus soup but also the sweet, refreshing scent of the pear itself.

Fan Changyu could not help thinking that the wealthy truly knew how to fuss over food in ways ordinary folk could never imagine.

The wooden bucket the young servant carried, however, contained only the ordinary version of the same white fungus and lotus seed soup.

Of course, all of the soup had been laced with croton.

The steward greeted the guard under the eaves with a servile smile. “The weather is bitterly cold, sir. The Madam took pity on you gentlemen and had the kitchen prepare some white fungus and lotus seed soup for you all.”

The guard had a faint scar running from the corner of his eye. He snorted through his nose, full of arrogance, though his expression betrayed a faint satisfaction.

The steward seemed long accustomed to such coldness. He gestured for the young servant to ladle a bowl of the soup and drink it first, demonstrating its safety. Only then did the guard say, “All right, leave it here.”