Chapter 68: Cui Wuniang—A Mind as Refined as Orchids and Fragrant Grass

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PS: Well, after yesterday’s tearful plea, the recommendation votes really did increase… Must I always roll around begging for votes? — There are some annotations in the author’s notes; those interested can check them out.

The vast southern district is not made up solely of shops; there are also residences scattered throughout. Therefore, creating a tranquil and elegant haven amidst such a bustling area becomes all the more important. As Du Shiyi and Cui Jianxuan followed the middle-aged man through the front shop into the courtyard, they found themselves in a garden thick with flowers and trees, more like a paradise than a mere yard. At first glance, the contrast felt abrupt, but after passing through this garden to the small building at the rear, Du Shiyi nodded to himself in thoughtful approval. It was precisely this rare oasis in the busy marketplace that lent the place its serene and refined air. The occasional birdsong made the tranquility come alive.

Passing over the threshold, Du Shiyi was immediately greeted by the rich fragrance of ink and paper. The scent made him feel, for a fleeting moment, as if he had returned to the thatched cottage on Mount Song, and it was a long time before he came back to himself. Looking around, he saw that the three rooms were not divided, but lined with shelves of varying height and size along the walls, each displaying all manner of inkstones in every shape and hue. There were a few customers browsing, but neither Cui Wuniang nor Du Shisanniang was among them. Before he could inquire, the middle-aged man called over an attendant, asked a few questions, and then smiled, “Gentlemen, Lady Jiu has taken Miss Du upstairs to look at the ink.”

Since Du Shisanniang was here, Du Shiyi felt no urgency and instead wandered among the shelves, admiring them with keen interest. In later generations he had seen many privately collected treasures, but to stroll among them now filled him with awe. Apart from a handful of stone inkstones carved in a primitive style, the majority here were made of pottery or porcelain. Among them, a celadon tripod inkstone from Yue Kiln gleamed emerald and smooth; a young man, clearly of wealth or rank, stood before it, stroking his chin and studying it intently, evidently tempted. Before another, labeled as a tribute inkstone from Guo Prefecture, two middle-aged men conferred in low voices.

Seeing that Cui Jianxuan had already seated himself cross-legged on a guest couch set aside for visitors, Du Shiyi beckoned the middle-aged man over and, pointing to the Guo tribute inkstone, asked, “How much is this inkstone?”

“If you are truly interested, ten thousand coins,” the man replied, and when he saw Du Shiyi arch an eyebrow in thought, he lowered his voice to explain, “But I must be honest. Though it’s called a tribute inkstone, it simply hails from Guo Prefecture. Still, it is crafted by a master’s hand and is in no way inferior to a genuine tribute piece. By comparison, the celadon tripod inkstone from Yue is slightly less expensive, eight thousand coins will suffice.”

“Oh? And what of those stone inkstones?” Du Shiyi asked.

The man glanced at him with mild surprise before smiling, “Those were brought by a stonemason who claimed they came from Duanxi. Stone inkstones have been around since the Wude era, but compared to pottery and porcelain, they are less favored for grinding ink. So, though he brought over a dozen, only one has sold so far, at two thousand coins; the rest remain unsought. The style is crude, not to the modern taste.”

Du Shiyi was at first surprised, but then recalled the ink pellets and ink snails he had used for copying books, and nodded thoughtfully. The ink of today, except for a few that are hard as jade, is not as firm as later inksticks, and is often round in shape, so a pottery or porcelain inkstone suffices. Stone inkstones are heavy, and having only just begun to be used widely in the early Tang, are still a novelty—naturally, their appeal is limited, let alone their value. Thinking of inkstones led him to think of ink, so he smiled, “Then let’s go upstairs to see your treasure inks.”

The middle-aged man, glancing at the uninterested Cui Jianxuan, promptly accompanied Du Shiyi up the side staircase. The second floor was even more refined and fragrant with ink. Attendants and maids waited quietly by the walls, among them Bamboo Shadow. At the sight of him, her eyes lit up, and she hurried over to greet him, then bit her lip and whispered, “Lady Five said she has something important to discuss with Miss Du, and they’ve been talking for quite a while.”

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Only now did Du Shiyi notice that, in this spacious room, there were no other customers: just Cui Wuniang and Du Shisanniang in a corner, their backs to him, seemingly admiring an ink snail on a shelf. He couldn’t see their faces, but he knew Du Shisanniang well enough; the slight trembling of her shoulders told him she was troubled by something grave. Without hesitation, he walked quietly toward them. Yet, though his steps were light, when he was still four or five paces away, Cui Wuniang turned as if she had eyes in the back of her head and said with a smile, “Du Langjun, you really did find us here—such a thoughtful brother you are to your sister!”

“Brother…” Du Shisanniang, surprised that he had come straight here, had no time to hide her expression. She uttered a soft greeting, then, recalling the tears still glistening in her eyes, hastily turned away, took a deep breath to compose herself, and faced him again with a forced smile, “Weren’t we to meet at the South Market’s southern gate at the appointed time? Why have you come so early?”

“Third Brother escorted Master Lu back to the inn, so I asked Eleventh Brother to show me the way here. I must say, I never imagined the sea of inkstones and the fragrance of ink would be so astonishing.” While he spoke lightly, Du Shiyi’s gaze remained intent upon Du Shisanniang’s eyes.

“So Master Lu has left the palace—that is truly a blessing. I’m a frequent patron here, and I’m glad you like this place,” Cui Wuniang said with a smile, beckoning the middle-aged man who had led Du Shiyi and Cui Jianxuan earlier. In a gentle voice, she instructed, “In the future, if Master Du visits, do not deceive him with empty words; show him your best wares and your most honest prices, or I’ll never come again myself!”

“You may rest assured, Lady Five, I shall remember your instructions!”

After this banter, Cui Wuniang began to comment on several fine inks for Du Shiyi. Though he responded politely, she noticed from the corner of her eye that Du Shisanniang remained distracted, which made her smile. After they finished browsing, she ordered several inks to be sent to the Cui household in Yongfeng Lane, then cordially invited the siblings to go downstairs with her. On the staircase, she noticed Cui Jianxuan reclining on the guest couch, propping his head as if half asleep, and couldn’t help but curl her lips in amusement. Just then, an attendant pulled aside the curtain and hurried toward them.

“Third Master Ye, the Duanxi stonemason has arrived!”

At this, the middle-aged man quickly apologized to Cui Wuniang and the siblings and hurried out. Cui Wuniang, meanwhile, strolled over to the dozing Cui Jianxuan and, without warning, flicked his forehead sharply. He jumped up at once, the cry on his lips dying when he saw her, swallowing his protest with a look of resigned indignation. Ignoring him, she turned to Du Shiyi and his sister with a smile, “Since Shisanniang prefers quiet and dislikes noise, and we’ve already had our tour, there’s no need to visit any more crowded places. Let’s return.”

“As you wish, Lady Five,” Du Shiyi agreed.

Exiting the two-story building and returning to the garden, with only family servants and Bamboo Shadow nearby, Du Shiyi suddenly called out, “Lady Five.” When she stopped and turned, he bowed deeply and said solemnly, “For your efforts on Master Lu’s behalf today, I am most grateful.”

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Cui Wuniang uttered a soft “oh?” and, seeing Cui Jianxuan’s odd expression, watched as he also bowed to her with Du Shiyi. She laughed lightly, strode forward to help them both up without hesitation, and said warmly, “I was wondering why you two came to find me and Shisanniang before the appointed hour—it was for this thank you, I see. But I only thought a little; the hard work was Lady Jiu’s. Helping others is right, and though this hurdle is past, whether Master Lu can return safely to Mount Song still depends on your arrangements, does it not?”

Du Shiyi, realizing that Cui Wuniang had learned of Cui Jianxuan’s efforts to gather news, said nothing and simply acquiesced in silence. At this, she bent to straighten the creased hem of Cui Jianxuan’s robe, then glanced at Du Shiyi and said with a smile, “We’re all family, no need for such formalities. Come, let’s be on our way. Shisanniang, let them ride—come with me in the carriage, I’ll see you back to the guesthouse at Quanshan Lane.”

Hearing this, Du Shisanniang, who had been silent, murmured assent and let Cui Wuniang lead her away. Du Shiyi grew all the more suspicious. When they reached the front hall, he noticed the middle-aged man called Third Master Ye arguing with a burly man in coarse brown clothes. In the end, a stout servant handed the man a bundle.

“In three months you’ve sold but one stone inkstone, and that was at the initial price of two thousand coins—yet you still demand such a high price? Ten thousand coins each—do you think your inkstones are priceless treasures? Out of respect for your long journey, I’ve settled accounts for the one you sold. This little shop can’t hold such rarities; since all is squared, take your things back with you!”

The stonemason’s face turned crimson; his large hands trembled as he clutched the bundle, then, turning abruptly, he strode out the door. Du Shiyi considered calling after him, but just then someone else rushed in from outside, and the two collided head-on. The mason stumbled and fell, his bundle thudding heavily to the floor; the tied corners came loose, and one of the stone inkstones rolled out. He didn’t even look up at the person who’d bumped into him, but scrambled to untie the bundle, sighing in relief to find the inkstones unharmed.

“These stone inkstones are only good for being sturdy; if they’d been pottery or porcelain, they’d have shattered to pieces!” sneered an attendant nearby.

Seeing that the one who’d barged in—looking utterly out of sorts—was none other than Wu Jiu, who had long since arrived in the Eastern Capital but never shown himself, Du Shiyi arched his brow in surprise. He stepped forward, picked up the fallen inkstone, and handed it back to the mason, saying softly, “Once, the He family’s jade was just a common stone until Bian He recognized it. So it is with these inkstones—you needn’t lose heart. A treasure remains a treasure, even if it has yet to find an appreciative eye.”