Chapter 31
Chapter 31: Do It Big
Shi Gun took the order and immediately had someone call over a kitchen provisioner. The two of them went out together to buy eggs.
The provisioner’s first question was simple enough to ruin a man’s life.
“A cart of eggs,” he repeated. “What size cart?”
Shi Gun went still.
Right. What size cart?
There were tiny handcarts, and there were enormous flatbeds. “A cart” could mean anything from “a polite gesture” to “a small disaster.”
He’d been so shocked by his master’s command that he’d forgotten to ask for details. And going back now to request clarification on something so trivial would be humiliating. Besides, the Heir Apparent probably hadn’t even considered “cart size” as a concept.
So—big or small?
Big.
It had to be big.
First, the Heir Apparent’s status was extraordinary. If he reached out a hand, the gesture couldn’t look stingy.
Second, the Heir Apparent was already in his early twenties, and this was the first time he’d ever used such sweet, shameless words on a young lady. Strange or not, that wasn’t Shi Gun’s business. Shi Gun’s business was making sure he didn’t ruin it.
As chief attendant, he could not, under any circumstances, do the opposite of what his master wanted. If he did, he’d be rolling off to some forgotten corner of the world by tomorrow.
“The biggest cart,” Shi Gun said, face tight with authority.
The provisioner jolted. “The biggest cart? Ah—yes, yes, yes! Master Shi, do you need it now? Then we have to hurry! A biggest cart, a whole cart of eggs—if we’re late, we won’t be able to buy enough!”
He didn’t waste time panicking. He switched straight into problem-solving. “Master Shi, we’ll need to borrow two men from you, and we should call a few more provisioners. We’ll split up and hit the egg shops. If it’s just the two of us running from place to place, even on horseback we’ll be buying until dark. Ping Jiang isn’t small.”
“Go call them,” Shi Gun snapped, waving him off.
His master liked swift, decisive action. Under the Heir Apparent, you didn’t drag your feet. You ran.
Even so, no matter how urgently they moved, by the time Shi Gun and the provisioners had gathered enough eggs to fill a Taiping cart, the sun was already slanting west.
—
After fleeing from Gu Yan, Little Nan and Li Yin Zhu ran half a street and hid in a shop doorway, peeking behind them and to both sides. They watched for a long time. When Gu Yan didn’t reappear, both of them finally remembered how breathing worked.
They whispered fiercely, weighed their options, and came to the same conclusion.
They hadn’t even started their stroll.
Going home now would be unforgivable.
So they kept walking, right up until the sun tilted toward evening and their ankles ached. Only then did they ask for directions and head back to Academy Street.
They had just arrived home when Li Jin Zhu and Li Yu Zhu returned as well.
Li Yin Zhu rushed forward, energetic as if she’d been napping all day. She drew up well water for her sisters, handed them cloths, and hurried to boil water for tea.
She truly didn’t feel tired. Her heart was crammed full of excitement, and every few steps she felt like hopping.
“Eldest Sister,” Little Nan asked, dragging a small bamboo chair over and collapsing into it, “did you pick out a spinning wheel?”
“Not yet,” Li Yu Zhu said, sounding defeated. “There are so many kinds. Ones for cotton cloth, ones for silk, ones with jacquard, ones without, wide ones, narrow ones, even ones just for hemp. My head is spinning.”
“So many details?” Li Yin Zhu gasped, laying it on thick.
On the way home, she and Little Nan had agreed: if their sisters didn’t ask, they wouldn’t mention today’s outing at all.
Because the moment they mentioned it, they’d have to mention the lecher.
And if Eldest Sister heard their very first trip out ended with a lecher, she’d worry. Worse, she’d lay down a rule—no more going out just because they felt like it.
The city was too wonderful. They had only just begun to see it. Getting locked indoors now would be a tragedy.
“The cloth shops here don’t want coarse cloth,” Li Jin Zhu said, splashing water over her face and looking mildly wrecked. “We only know how to weave coarse cloth.”
“We…” Li Yu Zhu began.
A crisp shout from outside the gate cut her off. “Is this Licentiate Li’s home?”
“Yes! Yes, yes!” Li Yin Zhu answered at once, sprinting to the courtyard gate.
She was back in a blink, one hand pointing wildly behind her, eyes huge as she stared at Little Nan. “It’s him, it’s him—that one!”
Little Nan sprang up and charged out.
Li Jin Zhu, still dripping, glared at the two younger girls. Li Yu Zhu shoved a cloth into Li Jin Zhu’s hand and followed at once. Li Jin Zhu came last—and nearly collided with a porter in black as she reached the threshold.
She dodged quickly. The porter had a bamboo basket on his shoulder. He stepped into the courtyard, turned in a circle as if searching for a proper spot, then carefully set the basket down beneath the main hall window and nudged it into place.
Before the first basket was fully settled, the second porter arrived. Then a third. Then a fourth. Porters streamed in and out, each shouldering a bamboo basket. In moments, the Li family’s small courtyard was packed so tightly there wasn’t even a spare place to put a foot.
The last porter tiptoed and sucked in a breath, squeezing through a narrow gap between baskets to escape. Li Jin Zhu hurried after him, carefully stepping out the same way.
At the gate, Li Yu Zhu stood pressed against the doorframe, eyes stretched wide at what she was seeing.
Li Yin Zhu stood like a shield in front of Little Nan, arms flung out, glaring at a brocade-clad youth with delicate features and a relentlessly pleasant smile. Little Nan pointed into the courtyard, firing questions. The youth kept nodding and bowing with clasped hands, his smile fixed in place as if it had been stitched on.
“What is this?” Li Jin Zhu’s first thought was that someone had sent gifts for Xue Dong. Then she saw Li Yin Zhu’s posture—ready to fight—and her relief snapped back into worry.
“He keeps saying something about his master apologizing,” Li Yu Zhu whispered, baffled. “A Nan is scolding him. I don’t understand.”
A servant? The boy spoke like a servant. But what kind of servant dressed like that—and looked like that?
Neighbors had gathered at both ends of the alley, craning to watch.
Shi Gun—smiling, sweating, and answering question after question—finally glanced sideways at the courtyard. The baskets were already inside. The Taiping cart had been unloaded. The eggs were delivered.
He clasped his hands and spoke quickly. “Miss, if you have anything to say, you may tell our master when you meet him in the future. This one takes his leave!”
Then he turned and left in a hurry—half walking, half running—before Little Nan could reload.