Chapter 297

Chapter 298: Keeping the Old Generals Happy

[Tang Gang let his gaze travel up and down Tang Mo. Although this brat is infuriating, his looks and build leave nothing to complain about. After all, he is my own blood, not bad at all.] He thought: [Far better looking than that Wei family fellow, Wei Chuan Zong, who looks like lotus root raised in a flowerpot, all shriveled into a clump.] He added another judgment: [The Wei family’s girl is plain too, a little like my late wife. Speaking of which, Tang Rong’s features are actually fine, but his lips are poorly shaped, like the Wei side.] His eyes returned to Tang Mo: [This brat is actually better looking. He is taller than Tang Rong, with broad shoulders, a lean waist, and long legs. Tang Rong’s shoulders slope, lacking a touch of vigor.] The thought closed with a wry admission: [No wonder His Majesty the Emperor said Tang Mo resembles his grandfather. The Old Master was tall, and the Old Madam was a beauty.]

“Father,” said Tang Mo as he waved a hand in front of him, “what are you thinking about?”

Tang Gang came back to himself and said: “Let’s go.”

Once in the carriage, Tang Mo began prying under the seat, bending at the waist to peer around. At first Tang Gang was puzzled, then he remembered something and held out his hand as he ordered: “Hand it over.”

“What?” asked Tang Mo.

Tang Gang kicked him in the shin and said, voice hard: “Don’t play dumb. The dagger.”

The little bastard had used his dagger and then brazenly claimed it as his own, as if he had not noticed.

Tang Mo grinned, with a hint of mischief: “The moment I touched that dagger it fit my hand so well. It really suits me. Father, you would not be so stingy, would you?” As he spoke he pulled the dagger from his boot. The sheath he had put on it himself did not fit and was ugly besides. Tang Gang’s brow pinched as Tang Mo admired the dagger with satisfaction and asked: “Father, this dagger has its own sheath, right?”

“I cobbled this one together,” said Tang Mo, tapping the shabby sheath, “it does not fit.”

He pried under the seat again, and in no time he actually fished out the proper sheath. Right in front of Tang Gang he slid the dagger home, then stuck it back in his boot and rolled his ankle: “A bit pokey. Better to hang it at the waist.” He buckled it at his belt and even patted it, wearing a face full of pride.

[Tang Gang averted his eyes for peace of mind. Nowadays Tang Mo’s skin is thick and his cheek even thicker. I must not let him see anything good, who knows what he will quietly pocket next.] He kept silent the whole way, but he could not withstand Tang Mo chattering nonstop until his temper prickled. He found himself nostalgic for the old, well-behaved Tang Mo. The one before him was a regular chatterbox.

That evening’s banquet was once again at the Herbal Cuisine House. The colder it grew, the better that establishment’s business became. If they had not kept a private room in reserve as a rule, even Tang Gang would have found it hard to secure a table.

Those invited were veteran generals whose ties Tang Gang had maintained over the years. They no longer held significant command and were advanced in age, yet in the army they still carried a measure of prestige. When father and son entered, everyone rose and clasped hands in greeting, and when they saw Tang Mo their smiles warmed.

“It has been some time since we saw the second young master,” said one, his voice ringing despite his years. “We have only heard that you did well in the Northern Garrison Army. Even His Majesty the Emperor praised you, saying you carry a trace of the Old Marquis’s bearing. Seeing you today, you truly are handsome and imposing, a fine talent.”

These old generals who had survived battlefields and bloodshed retained robust lungs even in age, their laughter edged with a hint of killing aura. Tang Mo stepped forward with a smile and clasped his hands as he said: “To receive such words from you, honored General, is my greatest fortune. I was unpromising before and did not dare crowd before my elders. Now I have finally come to my senses and begged Father to bring me so that I might pay my respects.” He stepped back two paces and bowed deeply: “Tang Mo greets all honored elders.”

“Hahaha, good lad,” Old General Zhang said as he came forward and lifted Tang Mo’s arm with one hand, “you are as handsome as your grandfather and you know proper manners, a fine young man.”

“You must be Old General Zhang,” said Tang Mo, straightening with a bright smile. “I remember seeing you play chess with my grandfather when I was little. You lost by three stones.”

“Hahaha,” Old General Zhang laughed and said: “I remember now. You were the one chirping in my ear the whole time. You did not even know how to play but kept trying to direct me. It was you who made me lose that game. You will punish yourself with three cups later.”

The other old generals laughed too. Soon they all sat, and the attendants briskly brought out the soup that had been prepared in advance. Tang Mo did not sit idle; he lifted a wine ewer and went from seat to seat pouring wine for the veterans.

Old General Zhang raised his cup and, seeing the wine tinged red, asked: “What wine is this?”

“This is goji berry wine with added juice of rehmannia,” said Tang Mo with a smile. “It nourishes essence and dispels cold, strengthens yang and fortifies the lower back and legs. A small cup daily strengthens the sinews and bones and prolongs life.”

“You just must not drink it by the bowl,” said another old general as he raised his cup and sniffed, “or you will be overwhelmed.”

“This wine suits us old fellows very well,” another agreed.

“It certainly does,” said Tang Mo. “I will have a small jar delivered to each of your residences. A cup each day, and I guarantee it will keep you strong.”

“Is that convenient?” Old General Zhang asked with a smile. “I heard this restaurant belongs to your wife.”

“My wife has the greatest respect for elders,” said Tang Mo. “Earlier Father entrusted me with some of the affairs of caring for retired soldiers. I have been busy with my duties and could not attend to everything, so my wife has handled it all. Grain, rice, and coal have never been lacking. She has even invited master craftsmen to teach them skills, so that each can earn a living.”

“Just a few days ago she and Madam Wang went to the residence of Vice Minister Wang to prepare New Year’s gifts for each household: bolts of cloth, pastries, pork, mutton, and a chicken for every family. All solid provisions, simply so everyone can pass a good New Year.”

Everyone present knew these affairs of the marquisate. Some retired soldiers kept contact with them, and all knew that General Wang was much more comfortable now thanks to that Second Young Madam of the marquisate who had provided the silver. To be wealthy yet warm-hearted was good indeed.

“Bring your wife out to meet us at New Year too,” the veterans said, “we must thank her after drinking her wine.”

“I will bring her to pay New Year’s respects to each of you,” said Tang Mo cheerfully.

“Good,” the old generals nodded with satisfaction. In the past, Tang Gang had always brought the marquisate’s Heir Apparent to dine with them as a sign of respect. But that boy was all affectation, knew nothing of handling people, and loved to keep up his airs. This one, by contrast, was glib in the best sense. Look at how he pours wine: he has a touch.

Tang Mo also poured for Tang Gang, and only then returned to his own place. He raised his cup and said with a smile: “This is my first time drinking with my honored elders. I am not good with words, so I can only wish all of you robust health and long life.”

“Hahaha, and we wish you a bright future,” came the reply.

After the opening toast, Tang Mo kept busy refilling cups, then ladled soup. Such attentiveness set aside rank, because these were veterans who had followed the Old Marquis through life and death. They were elders.

Tang Gang had been smiling and making nice, and he discovered there was indeed benefit in bringing this brat out. With his thick skin, quick tongue, and practical sense, Tang Mo saved him much effort. All Tang Gang needed to do was sit, accompany them as they ate and drank, and converse.

From there, Tang Mo’s main tactic was to read the room. He did not interrupt; he spoke only when asked. When he did speak, he could always spark the old generals’ laughter. The meal was as merry as could be. Even when Tang Gang tactfully mentioned that some commanders had had no dealings with the marquisate for years, Old General Zhang signaled that he could broker introductions, granting Tang Gang considerable face.