WSMTATMC C105

Chapter 105

Truth be told, Wang Ying should have paid respects to the deputy prefect long ago; sending men across such a distance to escort them was no small favor. But one cannot call with empty hands.

Too light a gift would seem dismissive; too heavy, and he simply didn’t have that much silver. It was a vexing dilemma.

So he decided to leave a note in the experimental field that night and ask Chen Qingyan for counsel.

After dinner, as usual, Wang Ying entered the field to write, sort vegetables, and check for new notes.

He had barely arrived when Chen Qingyan came in as well. “Ah Ying!”

“Well now—those new clothes suit you. You’ve reached Yangzhou?”

“We arrived at noon,” Qingyan said, embracing him. “In the evening the teacher’s younger brother invited us to dine out. I came straight after.”

Wang Ying sniffed lightly at his lips. “No taste of Yangzhou’s wine?”

“With elders present, how would I dare drink,” Qingyan teased, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Tell me what Yangzhou is like,” Wang Ying said, drawing him down to sit.

“By day, not so different from other prefectural seats. We rode straight in and didn’t see much—overall, more prosperous than the north. But at night, it’s another world.”

In Jizhou and Laizhou, curfew was the rule: after Hai hour, no wandering the streets; if caught by patrols, one could end in a dungeon.

Yangzhou had no curfew. Even at deep midnight one saw people in the streets; the restaurants and brothels blazed until dawn.

Wang Ying listened with real longing. In his previous life, he remembered many poems of Yangzhou—Li Bai’s “My old friend bids farewell at Yellow Crane Tower; in misty, flowery third month he goes down to Yangzhou.” It wasn’t the third month now, but autumn had a charm of its own.

“I want to go with you and see it.”

“There’ll be a chance. When Yuanbao is older and we have leisure, we’ll come to Yangzhou together. I’ll take you to Wangyue Tower to watch song and dance on the Huai.”

“Splendid. I’ll be sure to take it all in.”

Qingyan asked after matters in Jizhou. “Your note said you’ve taken a storefront to sell fresh vegetables. How are preparations?”

“Right—you reminded me. The shop is ready; we plan to open the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow I’m thinking to call on the deputy prefect: first, to thank him for sending men to escort us; second, to draw a closer tie. We’re new here without roots—if something happens, it’s better to have a name to lean on.”

“Indeed,” Qingyan agreed.

“It’s just that I don’t know what gift to bring. Too light, and it looks like poor taste; too heavy, and we don’t have that kind of silver. It’s tricky…”

“Are you short of money?” Qingyan asked, concern prickling.

“Day-to-day is fine. Qingyun also gave me her jade; if there’s an emergency, I can pawn it. We’ll manage.”

“Good. As for the gift, don’t worry. Wait here—I’ll be right back.” Qingyan slipped out of the field, rummaged through his chest, and returned with a scroll.

It was a piece Master Liang had given him—calligraphy by Qian Muzhou, a grandmaster of Jizhou.

Liang had been a close friend of Qian’s and had several of his works. Since Qian’s death, his pieces had only climbed in value—rumor had it a foot of his work fetched three hundred strings and was still hard to find.

This “Rhapsody on Jizhou” was among the famed pieces. As a gift, it would stand up anywhere.

In short order, Qingyan came back into the field with the scroll. “This piece from Teacher has already been mounted. Bring it as-is tomorrow. Do you know where the deputy prefect resides?”

“I do,” Wang Ying nodded. “I’ve asked.”

“If anything comes up, tell me at once. I know a few friends in Jizhou—perhaps they can help.”

“Alright. Take care in Yangzhou as well. We got your last letter—has Song grown taller?”

“Mm. Up to my ear now—and quite thin. Mother will fuss when we return.”

Wang Ying laughed. “Mother said to tell you to keep after him with his studies, and not to let him play. If he won’t listen, thrash him soundly.”

Qingyan chuckled. “Understood. It’s late—go rest.”

—

At first light, Wang Ying took the gift and two attendants and went to call on the deputy prefect.

He had already made inquiries: today was the official’s rest day; he should be at home.

The residence lay on Zhengtong Street, which Wang Ying privately nicknamed the “work-unit boulevard.”

Classics say: north high, south low—so Zhengtong sat at the northerly crown of the city.

One felt at once the difference from the other two main streets: cleaner pavements, evenly spaced trees—almost the equal of modern urban planting.

At the gate, Ma Qianzi knocked. The wicket opened, and a porter asked, “Whom do you seek?”

“Good day, little brother. Our master has come to pay respects to the deputy prefect—especially to—”

“Have you a visiting card?”

This, they did not. “The deputy prefect will know us if you report it. I am his colleague’s—”

“The master is busy. No visiting card, no entry,” the porter said, already pushing the wicket to.

“Wait,” Wang Ying said quickly. “We truly know the deputy prefect—”

Bang. The wicket shut. After a few unanswered knocks, Wang Ying stamped in frustration and turned to leave.

The commotion caught the attention of the house steward. “What’s this noise outside?”

“A young gentleman came calling without a card. I sent him off.”

“Did he sound like an out-of-towner?”

“He did.”

“Open the door. Young master—please wait!”

Wang Ying turned back at once.

“Are you the party from Longquan County?” the steward asked.

“We are. I am Master Liang Boqing’s nephew—his lordship the deputy prefect kindly ordered us escorted to the prefectural seat.”

“I’m Wang Qi, the house steward. Come in.”

He led them to the flower hall. “Please sit and have tea. Master is still occupied and will be here shortly.”

“Many thanks.” Wang Ying sat properly, not daring to glance about. Behind him, Ma Qianzi and Tian Ju stood silent as stones.

About the time of a stick of incense, the deputy prefect entered. He was near Master Liang’s age, with a square face and close-cropped mustache, clad in a dark blue scholar’s robe.

Wang Ying rose and bowed low. “This junior greets the Deputy Prefect.”

“Up with you. You must be Wang Ying, whom Boqing mentioned in his letter?”

Wang Ying blinked—he hadn’t expected his name to be in the letter—and nodded quickly. “Yes, my surname is Wang; given name Ying.”

“These days have been hectic with public duty. I’ve had no time to visit you.”

“I wouldn’t dare presume. It’s I who should have come sooner to pay respects.”

“Even had you come earlier, you might not have found me,” the deputy prefect said, waving him to sit. “The floods have left no day free.”

The water disaster in Jizhou had been severe. The prefect had been demoted; the deputy prefect had escaped that fate, but there would be no promotion for three years. He also had to assist the new prefect in relief matters, run ragged—no time even to sleep; his beard had gone visibly whiter. Wang Ying’s timing was, in truth, perfect.

“I hear you’ve left the relay station. Have you found a place to settle?”

“Yes—we’ve rented a house and plan to open a small trade to keep body and soul together.”

After a few courtesies, Wang Ying produced the gift. “We arrived in haste with little of worth to present. Only this calligraphy, which Master Liang gifted to my husband—today I offer it in his name to you, my lord, in thanks for sending men to escort us.”

“There’s no need for thanks—merely a word spoken.”

“A word for you, my lord; a life-changing favor for common folk like us. Please do not disdain this small token.”

Only then did he nod for the steward to take it and unroll the scroll. The deputy prefect started, then rose to peer at it closely. “Is this by Qian Muzhou? So Boqing had such a fine piece!”

Wang Ying could tell by his expression that he had chosen well. “I’m a commoner with no eye for painting or script; only in your hands will it not be wasted.”

Where before the man’s words had been mostly polite courtesy, with the scroll in hand, his tone warmed. “I hear your old home suffered severely—fields and houses destroyed?”

Wang Ying nodded. “Eight or nine in ten households are gone from our town. We survived only because we were at the manor for the heat and fled up the mountain. Even so, our house was washed beyond living.”

“Ah—Heaven’s ruthlessness. For now, settle in the city. If difficulties arise, come to me. I have been a friend of Boqing’s for years; his nephews and sons are as my own. Don’t stand on ceremony.”

“Thank you, my lord!” Wang Ying bowed again. This was precisely what he had come for.

“Call me Uncle. I’ll have Wang Qi give you a pass token. Next time, hand it in and come straight through.”

“Thank you.”

Though invited to say “uncle,” Wang Ying didn’t dare take liberties. Apart from the gulf in rank, he was not truly Liang’s nephew; his husband was merely the old master’s student—one layer removed.

Still, the visit had paid off: a face shown, a token secured. Next time, he wouldn’t be left knocking at the wicket.

After a little time, the deputy prefect excused himself to return to work; Wang Ying rose to take his leave.

The steward, Wang Qi, walked them to the gate. Wang Ying seized the moment. “My lord’s duties are heavy; I wouldn’t presume to invite him. Our shop opens tomorrow—if it’s convenient, might you come have a look? I am a young household head; husband and respected uncle are not in the city—I’ve no one to lean on…”

Wang Qi hadn’t expected the invitation. “I must consult the master.”

“If he has no time, it’s of no account. Thank you for your help today—without it, we wouldn’t have stepped through the door.”

Wang Qi inclined his head—the country youth spoke and conducted himself with tact, without grating on the ear. “Where is the shop?”

“On Zhengyang Street—opposite Yang’s Trading House. Wang’s Produce.”

“Very well—if free, I’ll come by.”

Wang Ying thanked him profusely and stepped out. The wind hit his back and only then did he notice his shirt was soaked through with sweat.

A sixth-rank deputy prefect was akin to a provincial leader in later ages. In the end, once a commoner, always a commoner—transmigrated or not, he still found his nerves tight when speaking to a grand official.

Even if the deputy prefect did not come, it didn’t matter—so long as the steward did. Those with eyes and ears would understand the relationship with a bit of asking.

Besides, Wang Ying had intentionally named the shop with his own surname—to borrow a little shine from the deputy prefect’s. Those who didn’t know better might even assume he was a blood nephew.