Chapter 64: Jiang Xue (Part One)

Wu Yue-Ling gave the order: servants were allowed to pay three coins for an hour’s ride on the sleigh, or twenty coins for a whole day. This was Xiao Chun’s suggestion—she felt it was a fair arrangement. The sleighs were made not only for convenient travel but also to bring joy; yet, leisure should not be enjoyed without compensation. Calculating their income—ten coins per month—if three or four close friends pooled their resources, twenty coins for a day was more than affordable.

As servants, they worked for free, with room and board provided, and normally would not expect wages. The Princess’s Residence, however, was a true exception; soldiers were paid, and everyone living there received wages. But this meant the Princess’s Residence spent a gold piece every month to pay them, and considering long-term sustainability, they couldn’t forever rely on exploiting the landed tenants for grain. Everyone had to survive.

At the same time, toothpaste and toothbrushes would begin to be sold as commodities, which meant the carpentry workshop and sugar house would be busy for the year. A general store would be opened, specializing in toothpaste and toothbrushes—a royal monopoly, and a new source of income. Upon reflection, Yue-Ling realized her own strength was limited; relying solely on the Princess’s Residence wouldn’t suffice. She could spread the word and invite the major merchants of Chang’an for partnership: she would provide the technology, and they would handle the business, splitting profits evenly.

The first person Yue-Ling thought of was the turbaned merchant, Mai Mai-Ti, dressed in round-collared clothes. With a plan and a path forward, implementing it would be simpler.

Before long, the noisy clamor of card games pulled her back to reality—Chu’er was caught cheating again. Watching their lively frolic, a sense of satisfaction warmed her heart; winter was no longer so dull.

“Princess, this is preserved fruit Xiao Chun bought yesterday with Xiao Mi,” Xiao Chun entered, carrying a porcelain jar filled with pickled plum meat, dried grapes, and longan flesh.

She placed the jar on the table and smiled, “Princess, Xiao Chun and Xiao Mi knocked on over a dozen tightly-shut shop doors before finding these. With the heavy snow, most shops and restaurants in the market are closed. Xiao Chun and Xiao Mi worked hard for this.”

“Thank you, you both worked hard,” Yue-Ling peered into the jar—it contained shriveled, dry chunks. She grabbed a few pieces; the taste was sweet, with a hint of tartness, and some were very sour.

The sweet ones were longan flesh, no wonder they tasted so sweet. She recognized the grapes, but it was only after Xiao Chun explained the last type that she realized it was red plum meat—so that’s where the salty taste came from.

“Let’s all eat together. Xiao Chun, Xiao Mi, you two have some more,” Yue-Ling pushed the jar to the center of the table so those playing cards could try some.

At the Princess’s invitation, no one was shy or declined; they were used to this half-friend, half-servant relationship.

Soon, Yu Chao-En knocked and requested an audience. Entering, he informed the princess that Old Man He had arrived at He Pavilion to fish.

Yue-Ling straightened her lazy posture, rose from the heated bed, and instructed Wan’er to reward Yu Chao-En with dried fruit. She then told him to prepare the sleigh, gather food for a hotpot, the little bit of brewed barley ale, a bucket of charcoal, and warming vessels.

Back in her chamber, Yue-Ling shed her usual thick layers and donned ancient, warm clothing. Wan’er helped her, puzzled—was the princess going out?

Accompanied by Chu’er and a few royal guards, she boarded the sleigh and headed outside the residence toward He Pavilion.

Before long, they arrived at the lakeside He Pavilion. Old Man He was as usual, seated at the entrance, facing the frozen Qujiang Pool, fishing through a hole in the ice.

“Old Man He,” Yue-Ling stepped down from the sleigh and called out. The blue cloak behind her billowed gently in the wind. She nodded to Ah Xiang, who watched her side without pause, then sat beside Old Man He, who hadn’t noticed her arrival. She signaled the guards to move things quietly, not making too much noise, and herself remained silent, gazing in the same direction as Old Man He.

There lay a world blanketed in white. On the dim, gray lake surface, a black dot moved slowly. Gradually, the dot flattened, becoming a solitary ink-colored bamboo leaf gliding across the ice.

She exhaled a white breath, feeling the sweep of cold air, and took out her binoculars to observe the shadow on the lake. She saw it was a wooden boat carrying three people—a grandfather, his son, and grandson.

Counting carefully, the young man broke the ice ahead, the boy rowed in the center, and the old man cast the net at the stern.

So they were fishing—braving the cold, sailing on the frozen lake to catch fish for the winter. It was a bitter hardship. She sighed slightly. Through the binoculars, she realized the path they carved started right from He Pavilion.

She didn’t dwell on it. Before long, the brazier was lit and placed beside her. She nodded to Yu Chao-En, sending him back.

Behind her, Hua Chu’er led two adorable little ones, chatting with Ah Xiang. Both practiced martial arts and served as their masters’ bodyguards, sharing much in common.

Feeling the warmth from the brazier, Old Man He moved his arm, yawned, showing his broken white teeth, and turned to see the princess. Startled, he exclaimed, “Oh, Princess! It’s been so long—you’re even more beautiful and charming. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Old Man He, you jest. I haven’t become more radiant, but it’s true we haven’t met here for some time.” She took off the binoculars and handed them to him, “Try looking through this.”

Old Man He’s hands, dry as tree bark, took the binoculars. He peered through, and suddenly the distant frozen lake came into clear view; the black dot was indeed a flat boat, and atop it three generations were fishing.

“That boat struggling across the ice feels so heavy. This thing is miraculous, really…” He lowered the binoculars, rubbed his eyes, looked ahead, then used the binoculars again, repeating, “It’s truly miraculous.”

“Yes, that little boat bears a great weight—carrying three generations,” Yue-Ling hugged her arms, exhaling a long breath, emphasizing the solitary boat.

“Yes, such a small vessel, and it holds a whole lineage!”

“It’s also an entire era,” Yue-Ling replied, reclaiming the binoculars.

She noticed the fishing rod twitch. Yue-Ling moved to grasp it, and when it was pulled, helped Old Man He haul up a large fish.

Old Man He laughed heartily—this was the first fish of the day, just like the first guest of winter, caught just as he wished.