Huo Shu sat down and was about to speak when a Ji family laborer interrupted: “Village Head, a villager’s looking for you.”
Ji Yangzong, assuming it was the You family again, said impatiently: “Which villager? Tell them to scram! If they don’t, I’ll chase them off with a broom. Don’t push me too far!”
The laborer said: “It’s not the You family. Another villager.”
“What now? I told you to post the tax notice from the magistrate on the wall outside the gate. It’s all written clearly. They didn’t listen during the meeting, and now they’re coming to ask again?”
Ji Yangzong grumbled: “Tell them to read the notice themselves.”
“It’s posted. Some quick-footed villagers brought grain, saying they want to calculate their tax payments.”
Ji Yangzong immediately shut his mouth, disbelieving: “So soon?”
He stood up at once:
“Usually, even if you threaten them, they won’t pay up, and I have to go door-to-door. For them to be this eager, I’d better record it quickly. If I don’t finish soon, the magistrate will scold me again at the next gathering.”
He turned to Huo Shu: “Huo-lang, wait here and have some tea. I’ll go handle the grain taxes and be right back.”
Huo Shu said nothing, nodding in acknowledgment.
Ji Yangzong took a few steps but then felt it was poor hospitality to leave Huo Shu alone. He called into the house: “Xiao Taozi, bring some fruit for Huo-lang.”
A voice answered from inside. Ji Yangzong smiled at Huo Shu before hurrying off.
In his room, Ji Taoyu was bent over a small stove, carefully controlling the heat with a bamboo fan as he prepared a salve for chilblains.
Winter would soon follow late autumn.
Making the salve in advance to sell at his grandfather’s clinic or to peddlers at a low price would earn him some copper coins.
With winter came the New Year, and expenses would pile up - new clothes, lantern festivals in town, and all sorts of pretty, fun things that cost money.
After the broken engagement, he’d moped around at home for days, doing nothing, and even caught a cough, leaving him lethargic.
Today, getting up to move around had actually made him feel better.
Now that his marriage was off, the family’s tax exemption was gone, yet taxes kept rising.
Though they weren’t starving, they weren’t wealthy either. In these times, every bit of savings counted.
At sixteen, he’d now have to pay the late-marriage tax, which was a hundred copper coins a year. Not much, but he wanted to pay it himself.
Hearing Ji Yangzong’s voice, Ji Taoyu extinguished the stove amid the smoke, waiting for the salve to cool before bottling it.
He patted his clothes straight and went to the kitchen to fetch the chrysanthemum pastries made that noon.
Lately, his mother, seeing him down, had been making treats to cheer him up. With chrysanthemums in season, she’d made these pastries.
Unfortunately, his father had been in town today, and after the tax meeting, no one had much appetite.
Carrying the plate out, Ji Taoyu realized their guest was Huo Shu.
He hadn’t caught who it was earlier, only hearing his father ask him to bring pastries. He hadn’t expected it to be for Huo Shu.
Huo Shu glanced at the pastries on the table, then at the young ger.
After days apart, Ji Taoyu’s soft cheeks had thinned, his chin sharper, with dark circles under his eyes that even fair skin couldn’t hide.
Huo Shu had expected his poor spirits, but he looked better than imagined. He’d thought the boy would cry for days, eyes swollen like walnuts.
Not an unfounded assumption, given how heartbroken he’d seemed at Shili Cloth Shop.
“Why’d you come, Brother Huo?”
Huo Shu looked away at the soft voice.
“You didn’t return my things.”
“Huh?”
Ji Taoyu frowned in confusion.
“The cloak.”
“Oh.”
Ji Taoyu suddenly remembered and hurried back to his room, soon returning with the cloak.
Huo Shu took it. Having been stored indoors, it carried a faint herbal scent.
“I’ve been unwell and didn’t go out, so I forgot to return it. Don’t be upset, Brother Huo.”
Seeing his father had served Huo Shu their spring tea, Ji Taoyu, still hungry from barely eating lunch, sat down and took a pastry to nibble with the tea.
He knew about the village gathering today, but Huo Shu didn’t seem the type to care.
Had he come just for the cloak?
Ji Taoyu bit into the pastry, studying Huo Shu: “Brother Huo is so sentimental, treasuring this old cloak.”
Huo Shu glanced at the weathered cloak. The black cloth wasn’t worth much to begin with, let alone after years of use.
He could’ve let it go, yet he’d come to reclaim it.
He looked up at the ger across from him, obediently munching his pastry yet daring to tease him.
Huo Shu raised a brow: “A poor man like me only has one cloak, of course I’d treasure it. Can’t compare to scholars with their honors.”
Ji Taoyu set down his pastry. Poor? Wasn’t that his own fault for splurging? But: “What does that have to do with scholars?”
“Some people were so busy grieving for a scholar, they forgot who owned this ragged cloak. Think that’s related?”
Ji Taoyu's face reddened as he realized he hadn't properly thanked Huo Shu.
That day, he’d cried so much his face was drenched, yet Huo Shu had called a carriage, sent him home, and even rode alongside.
He pursed his lips and pushed the chrysanthemum pastries toward Huo Shu: “Fresh chrysanthemums pastries, made today.”
Huo Shu noticed the gesture was meant as an apology, but found it oddly distant, with the restrained politeness.
This wasn't his intention, so he dropped the teasing: “I came to ask your father to recommend work.”
Ji Taoyu’s brows lifted: “You’re looking for a job?”
“Mn.”
Ji Taoyu pressed his lips: So he really is broke.
Aww, and here I was with my wishful thinking 😭
ReplyDeleteThank you for the chapter!!!