Once the business with the inner quarters of the Xie manor got underway, Liu Cheng was constantly plagued by worry that something might go wrong.
Everything had simply gone far too smoothly, and the profit margins were enormous. Yet they were dealing through back channels and possessed no core expertise of their own, so an innate unease—or perhaps a feeling of unworthiness—naturally took hold.
In reality, however, from the moment their first winter deal was struck, not a single mishap occurred.
The red damask was of exceptional quality and greatly favored by the inner quarters. It had to be said that under the heavens, there was likely no one more skilled at dyeing deep crimson than the Celestial Masters—practice truly made perfect. Beginning with the second wagon, the quality of the charcoal even earned praise from Lady Yuan Nüzheng, wife of the head of the Xie clan, Xie Shang—who was also the aunt of Administrator of Langya Yuan Zhi and the dream woman of Huan the Western Campaigner.
This was not just good fortune. Starting from the second shipment, the charcoal was freshly burnt, and the kiln had specifically improved its technique at Liu Cheng's request. They had concentrated on using sawtooth oak; burning such high-grade wood not only yielded high volumes, but even better, the charcoal from the innermost layers of many kilns developed a pattern resembling silver frost.
This frost formed when high-temperature smoldering purged the impurities during the firing process.
Thus, its quality was genuinely superb, not merely an empty boast. No matter how sheltered those noblewomen might be, they knew well enough that a chunk of ordinary charcoal of that size barely lasted half a day, whereas this new charcoal lasted most of the day, and its grain looked distinctly different.
Steward Qian was no fool either. Having served the Xie household for decades, starting back when the family was far humbler, he knew the temperaments of all his masters and understood how to mitigate procurement risks at the right moment. He immediately explained the situation, making sure the mistress of the house knew that it was he, Steward Qian, who had gone out of his way to find a channel with the Celestial Masters' manor outside the city to improve the inner quarters' standard of living, making a targeted procurement without spending an extra copper.
This was the plain truth: not an extra coin had been spent.
Neither Steward Qian, nor Liu Cheng, nor the Celestial Masters dared to raise prices; they were determined to cater faithfully to this hard-won, premier client.
Moreover, the silver-frosted oak charcoal was merely the beginning. Gradually, fresh large fish and game were brought in, wine and spirits followed in measured amounts, and most brilliant of all, that crimson deer-tail whisk—wrapped with a talisman drawn by Lu Song's own hand—was sold at the exorbitant price of a whole wagonload of charcoal.
It was not without failed products, however. The pine nuts were one such failure.
Liu Cheng had initially assumed they would be an ideal snack for the noblewomen of the inner quarters. But the pine variety was what it was; the local pine nuts had a very harsh resinous taste and tiny seeds. The starving refugees in the camp cared nothing for taste and were happy to crack them slowly by the campfire, but could one really expect a highborn young lady like Xie Daoyun to sit and nibble on them?
Yet such minor failures were inconsequential. In just one month, Liu Cheng was already certain that his camp of nearly a thousand souls would have no trouble getting through this winter; they could even weather the heavy snows.
By this point, the risk of anything going awry at the Xie manor had dropped to an entirely negligible level.
This came down to the several dozen jin of peachwood firewood wrapped in talismans that the two Lius continued to shoulder over in person every few days.
When Yuan Nüzheng learned of this firewood, she specifically ordered it reserved exclusively for the sickly eldest son of her brother-in-law Xie Ju, Xie Lang—known affectionately as Xie Ahu—to prepare his personal meals. When Xie Lang's mother, Lady Wang, who likewise hailed from Wuyi Lane, found out, she felt somewhat embarrassed. She privately asked Steward Qian whether they could purchase more of this ghost-repelling, disease-warding peachwood firewood so all the children could share it, but Steward Qian, having been forewarned by Liu Cheng, politely declined with a bitter smile.
The logic was simple: what truly worked wonders was not the peachwood itself, but the wood combined with the Celestial Masters' talismans. Drawing those talismans drained the spiritual power of Preceptors Xu and Lu. With Preceptor Xu having departed for Kuaiji, only Preceptor Lu remained at the suburban manor to draw them, making the talismans all the rarer and more precious.
Lady Wang was deeply moved by this explanation and even had Steward Qian present a set of fine paper and brushes to Preceptor Lu, giving Lu Song quite a fright.
One could only say there were clear reasons why the Xie clan would become one of the de facto ruling families of the Great Jin dynasty for decades to come. The protective care these inner-residence women showed toward the frail younger generation, along with their mutual deference, fully displayed the solidarity and affection of a great aristocratic clan at the height of its ascent.
As for why this incident made the risks negligible?
Now that it was tied to the Xie family's virtuous clan spirit, what risk could remain? Even if Xie An returned home tomorrow for the New Year and saw through everything at a glance, he would simply have to pinch his nose and accept it: peachwood firewood was indeed marvelous, and clan unity was splendid!
From then on, this peachwood firewood was reserved strictly for cooking Ahu's meals, and no one else was permitted to claim it.
Even so, Liu Cheng maintained a profound, almost excessive caution.
Once they began earning money and had a little breathing room, every time he carried firewood and delivered goods, he made a point of offering small gifts to the gate guards and blade-and-axe retainers. Sometimes it was a pouch of pine nuts, sometimes a small bag of salted vegetables, and more often than not, talismans drawn by the crimson-robed Taoists under Lu Song.
Although Steward Qian repeatedly claimed that he had already smoothed things over with all the relevant parties and there was no need for Liu Cheng to worry so much, Liu Cheng paid him no heed.
In addition, Liu Cheng and Liu Jili caught sight of various members of the Xie family in the inner quarters on several occasions.
Once, it was Gentleman Cavalier Attendant Xie Ju. He was directing the servants in smoking out rats, looking so enthusiastic that had it not been for his status, he seemed ready to scramble up the rafters himself in place of the bondservants. Even great nobles, it seemed, needed little pleasures in life.
Another time, they saw the young Xie Xuan. He had gone to the kitchen to beg for a warm flatbread. Liu Cheng had an impression of this young boy, who had stood behind Xie Daoyun steadying his vomiting brother back then. The boy clearly remembered him and Liu Jili as well, giving them a slight nod of acknowledgment before carrying off his warm flatbread. Only then did Liu Cheng learn from the familiar servants in the inner residence that the child called A'e was none other than Xie Xuan.
On yet another occasion, they saw Xie Quan. As the eldest of the younger generation in the household, he evidently lacked his younger brother's sharp memory, taking the two Lius for ordinary firewood-bearing servants. He had come looking for Steward Qian to have him prepare a standard winter gift, to be delivered to his aunt at Iron-Urn City along with the medicines sent by his uncle from Yuzhou.
According to Liu Jili, the first and third encounters had both presented good opportunities. Xie Ju's willingness to smoke out rats showed he had an easygoing temperament, and as a grown man holding official rank, a single word from him would settle their business. The time with Xie Quan was even more straightforward: as a participant in the Mount Hua tiger hunt, approaching him directly to introduce themselves and bring up the tiger skin would have been entirely natural.
Yet Liu Cheng insisted on taking things slowly. His rationale was to accumulate as much revenue as possible first—one could never have too much money or grain. What if talks fell through and their income was cut off? Calculations showed they had enough for now, but the political situation was worsening by the day; who could predict what accidents might occur?
Furthermore, now that a connection was established, there was no need to force things. It was better to strive for an easy, natural approach, and ideally build harmonious relations throughout the Xie household. Only then could they retain a measure of dignity during unequal dealings with a top-tier clan like the Xies, which could later be translated into substantial practical benefits.
Liu Jili did not entirely agree with this view, but he did not object. It was not merely that continuous success had earned his trust in Liu Cheng; more importantly, they still had plenty of time.
Only a month of winter had passed; they could take their time.
However, as the eleventh month arrived, an unexpected turn of events shattered their plans: Xie An had returned.
After concluding his mourning period in the autumn, Xie An had originally intended to return to East Mountain, only to run headlong into Chu Pou's debacle. He had been forced to remain around Guangling and Jingkou to keep his cousin and brother-in-law company. Now, his decision to return to the capital spoke for itself: Chu Pou was likely on the brink of death. Under such circumstances, lingering by Chu Pou's side was awkward—the man had sons of his own, and when had a brother-in-law once removed ever overseen funeral rites?
Going to East Mountain in Kuaiji made little sense either, for as soon as Chu Pou died, he would have to return anyway, not to mention that the New Year was fast approaching. Returning home was the only sensible choice.
Once home, he could wait until news of Chu Pou's death arrived and the mourning rites concluded, and then head back to East Mountain after the New Year.
Xie An's return instantly plunged the Xie household into a completely different state. Previously, brothers like Xie Yi, Xie Ju, Xie Wan, Xie Shi, and Xie Tie had all been around, but none of them—apart from Xie Ju occasionally directing servants to smoke out rats—ever interfered with the management of the inner quarters.
Xie An was different. He placed immense weight on the education of the younger generation. The moment he returned, every nephew and niece, boy and girl alike, was made to attend lectures and remedial studies!
Over the next half-month, the two Lius carried four or five more loads of firewood, yet they failed to catch even a distant glimpse of the Xie youngsters. Instead, they heard them every single time they came. Almost every visit coincided with Xie An gathering all the juniors in the large courtyard two walls away to lecture them, discussing the *Classic of Poetry*, expounding on the *Book of Han*, or lecturing on the *Spring and Autumn Annals*.
On the surface, it was pure conversing and free-spirited ease; behind closed doors, he was relentlessly subjecting the younger generation to the most rigorous elite education.
Now, Liu Cheng and Liu Jili finally panicked. If classes were held every single day, how could they 'naturally' interact with the Xie family, express their desire to present the tiger skin, and secure an introduction to the master of the house?
Barging straight into the classroom to seek out Xie An, on the other hand, seemed guaranteed to infuriate any teacher.
Yet the days slipped by, and Xie An showed no sign of granting a winter break. Finally, in late November, the three Lius held a discussion in Jiangsheng and decided they could delay no longer. In any case, the winter was largely provided for, and the money they had earned was truly sufficient for the refugee camp to endure the season—even heavy snow posed no threat now. Xie An would undoubtedly spend the New Year at home, meaning these family lectures would likely continue well past the holidays. Since that was the case, they would just have to bite the bullet.
They would draw his attention, tell the plain truth with utter sincerity, and then offer the tiger skin in hopes of securing a future. If Xie An proved difficult, they would focus on Liu Huzi's elite fighters first; after all, Liu Huzi was truly capable of fielding a competent core band.
Having made their plans, the two returned a day later, carrying peachwood firewood and escorting another cart of charcoal, with a crimson crane-feather whisk tucked into Liu Cheng's robe to present to Xie An.
Everything went smoothly at first. The two Lius reached Wuyi Lane, entered through the side gate of the Xie manor with familiar ease, unloaded their goods, and collected their grain and money. Then, as usual, instead of leaving immediately, they sat down at the base of the wall to listen to Teacher Xie's lecture two walls away.
The surrounding servants found nothing odd about this; the pair had done so several times before, listening attentively without speaking out of turn, and departing quietly once the lesson concluded. The servants merely murmured behind their backs that these two were indeed men of breeding; though reduced to hauling firewood and charcoal in poverty, they remained so eager to learn, and might well achieve great things in the future.
Today, Teacher Xie was lecturing on the *Classic of Poetry*.
They had barely listened to a few lines when Xie An's voice floated over the wall: "I am hardly an expert on the *Mao Poetry*. The few poems I discussed today merely borrow the arguments of the ancients. Fortunately, the Sage said: 'The three hundred poems may be summed up in a single phrase: think no evil.' So let me ask you: from the perspective of your innocent minds, which line in the *Mao Poetry* is the finest? A'wei, you speak first."
From the sound of it, he was calling on the students.
Presently, the voice of the eldest, Xie Quan, rang out, noticeably lacking confidence: "'Guan-guan go the ospreys, on the islet in the river. The gentle, modest maiden, a fine match for the gentleman...'"
"Have you grown impatient, eager to take up an official post?" Xie An chuckled, shaking his head. "With our family's standing, need you worry about missing out on a fine office? Surely you cannot be anxious about failing to wed a lady of good pedigree?"
The Xie youngsters burst into laughter. Over the wall, Liu Cheng thought Xie An was being rather excessive. As the eldest of this generation, Xie Quan naturally harbored ambitions for office, but given his temperament, his answer today was likely just an offhand response using the very first line of the *Classic of Poetry* to get by when called upon by Teacher Xie. Did he really need to seize the moment to moralize and poke at his raw nerve?
"Ahu..." Xie An called on another.
"'The feet of the lin! Generous and noble are the lord's sons! Ah, the lin!'" Another male voice sounded, belonging to the sickly yet habitually proud Xie Lang.
"Very well." Xie An's tone softened considerably. "It is admirable that you possess the desire to encourage yourself, yet it remains somewhat too direct."
Across the wall, Liu Cheng was slightly puzzled, but Liu Jili shook his head gently and explained in a low whisper, "That poem praises the natural virtue of children born to princes and nobles. For Xie Lang to cite it means he prides himself on his noble birth, superior talent, and virtue, believing he lives up to the Xie family's renown—with a veiled contempt for his other cousins."
Liu Cheng nodded immediately; that fit perfectly. Having frequented the Xie manor for over a month, he had long known that Xie Ahu was frail in body yet renowned for quick wits. His maternal family happened to be the neighboring Langya Wang clan, making him a true scion of both Wang and Xie. In terms of pedigree, he acted as though he stood above everyone else even within the Xie clan, displaying an unmistakable arrogance and desire to take first place.
"Daoyun." Having offered his critique, Xie An continued down the line by age.
"'My heart is not a stone; it cannot be turned. My heart is not a mat; it cannot be rolled,'" Xie Daoyun's voice sounded promptly.
"Why must you be so unyielding, a girl like you?" Xie An said, sounding rather helpless. "This poem does not suit you."
"This is originally a poem of a woman's solemnity and steadfast fidelity," Xie Daoyun immediately countered. "How does it not suit me?"
"The poem speaks of the relationship between ruler and minister—a minister lamenting that his lord lacks discernment, yet remaining steadfast and unswerving in loyalty," Xie An explained helplessly. "Do you intend to become an official? Are you worried about facing hardships in office? Even taking its literal sense, a woman resenting a man yet remaining true to him—what is that? The family would never let you suffer such grievances."
"Uncle said with your own lips that you wished to explore the *Mao Poetry* through our innocent minds. Besides, does literature ever have a single, fixed meaning? Why must it be about ruler and minister, or lovesick men and resentful women? May I not simply take its spirit of solemnity and steadfastness?" Xie Daoyun refused to back down.
Xie An sighed, resigned to nodding along: "Very well, very well..."
With Xie Daoyun stirring up this debate, the responses from the other Xie youngsters grew rather perfunctory. It was clear that Xie An had not yet received the answer he was looking for, until he finally asked the youngest: "A'e, what about you?"
"'When I set out of old, the willows spread their shade; now as I return, sleet and snow fall thick,'" came the clear voice of a child.
"Splendid!" Xie An was visibly energized. "'Grand plans establish decrees, far-reaching schemes are proclaimed in due season!' A'e, you must strive well!"
"What does that mean?" Liu Cheng asked, perplexed.
"The Mao commentary says 'Gathering Ferns' is about campaigning for the state and forgetting hardships, expressing that one will never weary if willing to shoulder burdens for the country. And Xie Dongshan's response comes from the Duke Wu of Wei's self-admonition in 'The Greater Odes'..." Liu Jili explained in a low voice. "In other words, that little Xie A'e expressed a willingness to shoulder hardships for clan and court, and Xie Dongshan praised him, urging him to model himself after the sages of the *Odes*."
Hearing this, Liu Cheng could only feel a pang of sympathy for Xie Xuan. That Xie Xuan was precocious and clever was true enough; he might simply have found the line beautiful, or perhaps, influenced by the teachings of elders like Xie An, he had produced the expected pledge to study hard and shoulder clan responsibilities upon growing up. But from start to finish—from Xie Quan to Xie Daoyun and on to Xie Xuan—why did Xie An sound entirely like a pedantic lecturer forcing profound moral lessons onto everything?
Even if the Mao commentaries of this era were prone to forced moralizing, you are Xie An, for heaven's sake! Do you possess no literary sensibility whatsoever?
Then again, did Xie An have any literary renown in history? Were there any celebrated poems or rhapsodies passed down under his name?
Or had he been telling the literal truth when he claimed he was no expert on the *Classic of Poetry*?
While Liu Cheng was lost in thought, Liu Jili suddenly nudged him with a bamboo flute and asked, "You, or me?"
It turned out that with the questioning concluded, the class inside the courtyard was letting out early amid a bustling clamor. According to their plan, one of them had to play the bamboo flute right now to catch the attention of the courtyard next door.
"You do it. You play better than I do," Liu Cheng said, knowing his own limitations. "Just play the tune I taught you last month. It's sure to catch Xie Dongshan's ear."
Liu Jili nodded and wasted no time, lifting the bamboo flute to his lips and playing.
In truth, Camel Jili's flute playing was hardly masterful—only a fraction better than Liu Cheng's—but fortunately, the latter had prepared a fresh piece, a renowned melody that ought to produce a striking effect.
Sure enough, as the melody soared, the surrounding servants were taken aback at first, and a well-meaning soul immediately warned them not to disturb the nobles two walls away.
Yet it was already too late. Two walls away, Xie An, who had been about to step out the door, froze upon hearing the flute and immediately asked, "What tune is that? Who is playing?"
The Xie youngsters looked at one another, none able to answer.
Only Xie Quan curled his lip: "It certainly isn't any of the manor's singing girls, or the tune wouldn't sound so disjointed."
"It must be a newly arrived bondservant, or perhaps one of the Celestial Master servants who deliver firewood and charcoal to the inner quarters," Xie Lang offered his deduction. "Don't the Celestial Master people deliver peachwood firewood every few days? Does Uncle wish to see them?"
Hearing this, young Xie Xuan seemed about to say something, but Xie An was already shaking his head: "I have business and must call upon Governor Yin of Yangzhou, or why else would I dismiss class so early? Since an outsider is playing a new tune, have them teach it to the singing girls in the household. I will listen to it when I return tonight."
With that, he turned and left.
In the courtyard behind, Liu Jili soon received an invitation to teach the singing girls how to play the new melody.
This time, fortunately, he did not smash his flute.
Chapter 31