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Chapter 67: Speaking

After Zhao Shu finished speaking, Wen Ruyu looked again at Lin Xiaoyin.

She noticed Lin Xiaoyin seemed hesitant, as if she wanted to take responsibility for the matter, but then held back, not wanting to contradict Wen Ruyu.

Lin Xiaoyin was raised in the family of a county magistrate, educated and well-mannered. Though she respected Concubine Zhao, Lu Ke’s birth mother, she naturally shared more in common with Wen Ruyu and the others.

Because Lu Ke was born of a concubine, Lin Xiaoyin, as his wife, didn’t always have the authority to speak freely within the Lu family—after all, Lu Ke wasn’t the Old Madam’s biological grandson.

She had married into the family because Lu Ke had a promising future and a respectable reputation. Their family was harmonious, and she liked him personally. If any of those factors had been lacking, the Lin family would never have married her to him.

Wen Ruyu could see Lin Xiaoyin’s desire to reform Haitang Miscellany.

But Lin Xiaoyin was still young and saw things only from a limited perspective.

Thinking about something and actually doing it were two different things. What Lin Xiaoyin had in mind was something Wen Ruyu had already considered.

But truly implementing those ideas came with many hidden risks.

“If we’re going to include written submissions, we must set themes. But if we model it after the men’s imperial exams with policy essays, it would be too tedious and stray from the original intent of Haitang Miscellany—which was meant to be a leisurely read for women. And if just one or two pieces are poorly written and seen by men, it might spark ridicule. Plus, if women are seen casually discussing politics or Confucian teachings, they’ll be accused of neglecting their ‘proper roles.’ Once rumors spread, not only will our books be unsellable, even our shop’s fabrics might stop selling.”

“If we set the themes around poetry and classics, good poetry might still be problematic. Misusing references could easily spark disputes. Even those who’ve read ten thousand books don’t necessarily know every literary allusion. And in these uneasy times, praise that’s too excessive or criticism that’s too harsh could both be dangerous. If we publish overly sentimental works, we’ll be accused of corrupting women’s morals.”

“If someone with bad intentions—or a competitor—were to dig up something, it might even lead to lawsuits. It’s not just poor people who envy the rich; even the rich envy each other. There are many more powerful and wealthy families than ours. If our business grows, and someone finds a weakness to exploit, it could bring great trouble.”

After listening to Wen Ruyu, Lin Xiaoyin realized how broad her perspective truly was.

“It was shallow of me,” Lin Xiaoyin admitted.

Wen Ruyu smiled. “You’re not shallow. You have great ideas—it’s just that they’re hard to carry out. Many women in the county read Haitang Miscellany, but few think as far ahead as you. If there’s an opportunity in the future, it’s not impossible to try, but for now, the less trouble, the better.”

Wen Ruyu admitted to herself that she was being overly cautious. Perhaps if she agreed to reforms, much could change—but she wasn’t willing to take that risk.

“So our publication will continue to focus on food and scenery, and avoid controversial topics. The main goal is still to sell our household’s clothing.”

Lin Xiaoyin nodded, stood, and respectfully replied, “Yes.”

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Meanwhile, in the Lu family kitchen—

Fen’er arrived at the kitchen door just as two old servant women were carrying cut pork, preparing to marinate it in sauce jars.

The Lu family’s New Year’s feast would be lavish—they needed to slaughter several pigs. They prepared boiled pork, preserved meat, and marinated pork.

In winter, beef and mutton are too ‘heaty,’ so the pampered masters only sampled a little. Pork, being more balanced in nature, remained the preferred meat.

“The Old Madam said that since the New Year is near, don’t forget to prepare the tusu wine.”

Tusu wine was made in the twelfth lunar month. Herbal ingredients were soaked in wine for a few days, and it was ready.

The kitchen had already heard of Chuntao’s upcoming departure, and had just congratulated her mother.

When they saw Fener come with a message, everyone knew she was stepping into Chuntao’s role.

Chuntao’s mother still hadn’t quite adjusted and looked a bit disappointed when she saw Fen’er.

“Understood,” she replied.

Fen’er, seeing the message delivered, turned and left.

Inside, two cooks waited until Fen’er had walked far before slipping off to whisper gossip.

“How long has it been since her miscarriage?”

“More than two months, I think?”

The woman washing vegetables curled her lip. “Tiechui’s wife only rested for less than a month after her miscarriage. Everyone’s jealous. Who else gets to rest so long after childbirth? Most women are back to work ten days to half a month later. She must be lucky—getting special treatment just because her baby was the Third Master’s.”

The one picking vegetables nodded. “Even Concubine Qian didn’t get to rest that long when she had the Third Master.”

“They say it was the Old Madam who made her abort the baby—so the Third Madam could marry in smoothly.”

“No, I heard it was the Third Master who made her do it, and the Old Madam even gave her money—went there personally.”

“Using medicine to abort… how many months along was she?”

“Tsk tsk. Heard she bled a lot. Probably nearly full-term.”

“Then she must’ve been visibly pregnant. Four or five months, at least.”

“She’s pretty, but not as beautiful as Chuntao or Qingxue. Why’s the Third Master so taken with her?”

Just as they were gossiping, Chuntao’s mother walked in, and they quickly shut their mouths.

But she had already overheard, and sharply warned them: “Do your work properly. Don’t gossip about your masters’ affairs.”

The two didn’t dare say a word and continued their work in silence. The others nearby who’d been listening also refocused on their tasks.

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Fen’er exited the kitchen and took the path through the side courtyard, heading to Wen Ruyu’s room.

Now that the Old Madam had moved to the back garden, there was more walking involved in delivering messages.

Still, the family’s garden was beautiful—if there was free time, she could stroll there with close friends.

Back in Wen Ruyu’s room, Fener delivered the message.

Wen Ruyu, having no further instructions, let her go.

Lin Xiaoyin had heard Fener’s name earlier and was aware of her past.

But as the proper wife of the household, Lin Xiaoyin didn’t dwell on Fen’er’s history. The matter was over, and Lu Ke had made arrangements—there was no need to fuss.

Fen’er, being of lower status, even if she became a concubine, her life and death would still be in her master’s hands.

While Lin Xiaoyin remained calm and aloof, Fen’er was quite curious about the Third Madam.

In front of the masters, she dared not show much emotion or even look directly at Lin Xiaoyin.

Only after being dismissed did she sneak a glance at her—seeing her graceful demeanor and beautiful features, she couldn’t help but feel admiration.

But that admiration was mixed with insecurity and self-doubt.

She hadn’t entered the household through proper means—surely the Third Madam had already heard of her. Would she hate her for it?

Such a talented and elegant woman probably looked down on someone like her.

Thinking this, Fen’er felt despondent.

She wandered outside and stared blankly at the pine tree in the courtyard.

Just then, Fang’er came over and began chatting about everything that had happened during Fen’er’s absence.

Though Fen’er didn’t get along with most of the senior maids, she was very close with Fang’er.

Though she had recovered, she’d lost a lot of blood and still looked pale and weak—she couldn’t handle heavy work yet.

The doctor said her energy and blood were still depleted, and she couldn’t take strong tonics. She needed gradual recovery and careful diet.

Fang’er, seeing her friend so thin, teared up.

Fener used her handkerchief to wipe her tears.

Then Fang’er took her to the garden pavilion to talk.

In the dead of winter, no one came outside unless they had to.

Fang’er rubbed Fen’er’s fingers to warm them before saying, “I wanted to visit you the other day—I heard you were really sick.”

Fen’er held her hand in return and replied, “I knew about the eggs and sugar you sent through my sister.”

Fen’er had miscarried—not an illness, though “illness” was what people said for decency’s sake.

The matter had caused such a stir it reached the Old Madam—so the entire Lu household more or less knew what had happened.

Even though Fang’er and Fen’er were childhood friends, parents of other young maids didn’t want their daughters associating with her anymore.

But people’s bonds weren’t so easily broken—they were young women, not children.

So even if their parents disapproved, they still chose who to befriend.

Fen’er felt deeply moved that her friend still cared and wept quietly.

Fang’er wiped her tears and quickly changed the subject. “The new Third Madam is very kind. You’ll have a good life from now on.”

She was genuinely happy that her friend might have a better future.

Fen’er smiled faintly. She couldn’t say whether her future was blessed or not.

If this had all happened earlier—or if she had never gotten pregnant—she might have believed she was fortunate.

Not only was the Third Master gentle, but the Third Madam seemed kind as well.

But having lost a child, suffered so much pain, and lain in bed for days on end, she’d had time to think about everything—her gains and her mistakes.

The more she thought, the more she felt that she had given too much in this relationship, while the Third Master didn’t seem to care that deeply for her.

But she dared not think too much about that.

The two chatted a little longer, then returned—afraid the Old Madam might need something.

In the quiet garden, only the occasional chirp of birds could be heard.

With the cold weather, the carp in the pond moved sluggishly.

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