Seventeen: The Bow and the Surprise

A fire blazed fiercely within Ouyang Rong’s heart, growing ever more intense, yet he found no outlet for its release. He had not come to indulge in the wives, daughters, or young sisters of others! Yet, upon reflection, his actions over the past two days appeared, in the eyes of many, to be glaringly suggestive of just that.

Imagine this: a young county magistrate, not even a physician, repeatedly visiting a poor household under the pretense of “checking on the sick”—a man stricken with a terminal illness. Speaking words of comfort, he readily accepts their invitation to stay for dinner without hesitation or formality.

Is it not obvious what he desires from the only remaining, somewhat delicate younger sister in that household? Surely not the elderly mother—though that would be beastly, it was not impossible.

So, surely he does not truly intend to simply stay for dinner?

Dinner, after all, is merely a veil to maintain appearances; behind it lie the unspoken, universally accepted rules...

Yet this was not what angered Ouyang Rong most. What truly clenched his lips tightly, caused his nostrils to flare, and flushed his face with heat was that everyone regarded this as perfectly normal.

Ashan regarded it as normal.

Mother Liu regarded it as normal.

Aqing regarded it as normal.

All the people of the Great Zhou Empire regarded it as normal.

Ouyang Rong firmly believed that even if the world knew of this matter now, it would not tarnish his reputation as a gentleman in the slightest—at most, they would withdraw the notion that he was indifferent to women.

Because the Qing family were mere slaves of the lowest rank, and what was Ouyang Rong’s status? Was he not performing a “great act of kindness”? Perhaps this would even become a celebrated tale within scholarly circles of a benevolent gentleman who took in a slave out of compassion.

And this was the true source of the fire burning in Ouyang Rong’s heart.

He was no saint, but he did not regard it as normal.

“Just because everyone treats something as normal, does that make it right?”

In the dimly lit room, Ouyang Rong silently took off his scholar’s robe and draped it over Aqing’s shoulders. He picked up the belt from the floor and knelt on the mat to carefully tie it around the slender girl’s waist, as she was a bit short and their heights matched better this way, making the task easier.

“Master does not look kindly upon Aqing?”

“No, I think far too highly of Aqing.”

Aqing’s face showed confusion. Ouyang Rong gently shook his head and said no more.

What occupied his mind now was how to convince Aqing and Mother Liu to trust his treatment plan. Should he just tell them outright... yes, he would simply tell them directly.

Ouyang Rong took Aqing to see Mother Liu and, feigning absolute confidence and certainty, told them he possessed an ancestral secret remedy, one that never failed, which they could try to cure Liu Ashan’s tetanus—but they had to cooperate, and time was pressing.

From the eyes of the Liu mother and daughter, Ouyang Rong immediately saw the hope born of reverence for authority and superstition.

Then, braving the rain, he brought Aqing to the kitchen and taught her the entire crude process of purifying penicillin using traditional methods. The small shaved-headed monk followed closely to assist, and together they crudely produced penicillin each day. The final step involved using rice paper for chromatographic purification of the penicillin, then cutting the paper into small strips suitable for ingestion, which Aqing would administer to her brother.

Ouyang Rong had assumed that the last step—“eating the paper”—would make the “miraculous remedy” seem somewhat foolish. But unexpectedly, Aqing and the monk were even more convinced upon hearing this, explaining that many prominent Taoist doctors outside gave their patients talisman water, which claimed to cure all ailments and was deemed highly effective.

Ouyang Rong was speechless. He had no idea who was trying to deceive whom, but he did not deny their imaginations, merely smiling and nodding mysteriously.

Weakness and ignorance are not obstacles to survival; arrogance is—and the poor are the least likely to possess arrogance.

After everything was arranged, Ouyang Rong held an umbrella to escort Aqing home. Along the way, he noticed the little girl under the umbrella occasionally glancing at him, as if wanting to say something, but shyly lowering her head in embarrassment.

Yet those sorrowful eyes, long veiled by a fog of despair, finally regained a glimmer of hope.

Back in the dim sickroom, the man on the cot, wrapped as if in a burial shroud, his face stiff and grayish with the breath of death, suddenly convulsed in pain. Aqing and Mother Liu quickly threw a blanket over him, holding him tightly until the spasms subsided.

The mother and daughter, wiping away tears, told Ashan about the “miraculous remedy.” Ouyang Rong saw the complex expression on the tattooed man’s face as he approached and said simply:

“Ashan Liu, once you recover, settle your mother and sister properly, then come down the mountain to find me. I will wait for you at the county office.”

Ashan was momentarily stunned.

Ouyang Rong turned and left without another word.

Inside the house, the delicate, frail girl seemed to remember something and hurried after him with an umbrella, but the young magistrate had already vanished into the sparse darkness and rain.

Aqing held her oiled-paper umbrella, lifting her dress to avoid the rain. She stood on tiptoe in the rain, watching the direction where he had gone for quite some time before lowering her head to look at the garment she now wore—a robe imbued with the scent of that man. Most striking of all was the butterfly-shaped knot tied at her waist.

Aqing reached out to touch the belt knot.

Though usually skilled with her hands, she had never seen this tying method before. It resembled... the butterfly flowers by the stream at the foot of the mountain.

...

That night, Ouyang Rong once again visited the Merit Tower suspended in the clouds.

Entering the tower, he looked directly at the celadon-gold characters above the small wooden fish:

[Merit: One hundred sixty]

“I really don’t understand this ridiculous scoring system. Saving a life with medicine only adds twenty merit points, but simply putting a robe on Aqing increases mine by fifty points... Isn’t dressing a little girl just the bare minimum? What’s so meritorious about that? Saving a life should matter more, yet it’s so stingy.”

Ouyang Rong shook his head with a wry smile, glanced at the silent ancient bronze bell, then turned and left...

Morning came.

Ouyang Rong rose early and met with Lady Zhen to go to the East Forest Temple’s morning meal hall.

The aunt and nephew arrived a bit early; the Xie family father and daughter had not yet come.

Ouyang Rong wore a light blue robe, head bowed as he flipped through official documents delivered last night by Yan Wuxu, seeming lost in thought.

Beside him, Lady Zhen was dressed with a solemn elegance. After a brief moment of attentive service, she took a spoonful of hot porridge, sipped it, wiped her mouth with a handkerchief, then produced a small red cloth bundle from her sleeve, cradling what appeared to be a small, hard, circular object.

The beautiful woman carefully fondled the small red packet, occasionally raising her chin to glance expectantly toward the door.

“Are you waiting for your ideal husband, Aunt?” Ouyang Rong asked curiously without looking up from the papers.

“Bah! What nonsense is that, Tan Lang? Aunt is no longer young; waiting for a husband is nonsense,” Zhen said, lifting her spoon as if to knock some sense into him. Ouyang Rong dodged aside.

Ouyang Rong sighed, “What a shame. It would be nice to find one—then you wouldn’t bother me every day.”

“You heartless wretch,” Zhen said, glaring at him before touching the red cloth in her sleeve again. “This is the jade bracelet your mother left behind, meant to be passed to your lawful wife.”

Ouyang Rong was unsurprised, replying, “Then you’d better hide it well. Don’t take it out to show off when there’s no reason.”

“Hmph, today is no ordinary day. Maybe there’s a surprise soon—something to use it for.”

“A surprise? Alright then.” Ouyang Rong smiled, giving up the argument. After all, when the master arrived later, he would politely decline again, and Aunt would give up.

Lady Zhen was about to scold him further when footsteps sounded outside. Looking up, they saw Xie Xun arriving with Xie Lingjiang. Lady Zhen immediately sat upright.

“Sorry to be a bit late. Hope you haven’t waited long,” Xie Xun apologized with a bow. Ouyang Rong and Lady Zhen stood and returned the greeting before sitting again.

Lady Zhen sighed, “It’s nothing, nothing. Tan Lang just got up too early and was a bit restless, so he arrived early. Mr. Xie and Wanwan are not late.”

Ouyang Rong frowned.

Lady Zhen ignored him and looked at Xie Xun expectantly, trying to start a conversation.

Xie Xun spoke first, “We were late because something came up this morning. I had to discuss it with Wanwan, which caused a delay.”

“What sort of matter?” Lady Zhen perked up, but Ouyang Rong noticed her hand clutching her sleeve tightly beneath the table, clearly nervous.

He shook his head silently, calmly setting aside the documents and beginning to eat, as if resigned to the outcome and uninterested in the details.

Unexpectedly, Xie Xun smiled, “It’s nothing difficult. I’ve decided that Xie Lingjiang will stay in Long City to accompany Lianghan.”

“...”

Ouyang Rong thought he misheard, pausing before uttering, “Ah?”

Lady Zhen’s face brightened, fist clenched beneath the table—she thought it was settled!

Xie Xun glanced at Ouyang Rong and repeated his words precisely: she would indeed stay behind to accompany him.

Ouyang Rong fell silent. Slowly, he turned to look at the quietly poised Miss Xie sitting diagonally opposite. She rested her right palm against her pale cheek, tilting her head to watch the monks entering with porridge, her expression unchanged.

Yet, in his mind, one phrase echoed:

Explain to me what the hell you mean by “surprise.”