Liu Chang'an went home, got the mustard greens ready, and had water bamboo for lunch.
Before the Tang Dynasty, water bamboo was cultivated as a grain crop. It was one of the six grains, known as "gu," and a unique aquatic vegetable of China. Cut it into angled chunks, then simmer it briefly in stock with salt and cooking wine for a refreshing, tender dish.
Water bamboo tasted great stir-fried with meat or chicken. Liu Chang'an didn't eat much meat, since people always had to be frugal when making ends meet. Though a daily diet of lavish meat and poultry was a sign of a higher income and a better quality of life, Liu Chang'an had always felt that the traditional way of eating—light dishes on ordinary days, with meat saved for festivals—made indulging in food all the more satisfying.
More leaves fell from the parasol tree in the courtyard. Perhaps there were too many leaves on the ground; two or three fewer old men were napping beneath the tree that afternoon.
To Liu Chang'an's great surprise, Fan Jian called and said there was work for him at the construction site. The pay was still two hundred yuan for the day, though at Liu Chang'an's pace, he should be able to finish in half a day.
The job probably had something to do with Zhong Qing, but she didn't want Liu Chang'an getting involved with Zhu Juntang, so Liu Chang'an went without a worry.
Fan Jian was wearing a fairly neat, clean suit that day, though the creases on the back were obvious. It seemed he hadn't worn it in ages and had just pulled it from the bottom of a trunk. "Xiao Liu, today's job is to move this pile of bricks and stones across the way."
"Sure. I'll do a good job." Liu Chang'an looked delighted to have work from Fan Jian, full of energy and enthusiasm.
Though he was only following Zhong Qing's instructions, Fan Jian still paid attention to Liu Chang'an's reaction. Everyone needed to feel good about doing the right thing. Fan Jian felt that by giving a young man a leg up, he'd given him a bit of warmth from a stranger as he struggled to make ends meet.
Machinery roared and workers went about their tasks in orderly bustle, the smell of soil freshly dug from underground filling the site. It carried the weight of centuries, even millennia. Humanity studied the cosmos and distant stars in light-years, yet knew so little about the crust beneath our feet. In a sense, studying the Earth's crust mattered more to us than studying the stars, but it was also far more difficult... Just a little way down, the earth beneath our feet often lay untouched for countless years.
Fan Jian seemed to have plenty of free time. He kept wandering over to check on Liu Chang'an. Once the job was done, he handed Liu Chang'an the two hundred yuan. This time Liu Chang'an didn't leave right away. A few of Fan Jian's workers were taking a break and playing Dou Dizhu in Fan Jian's office, so Liu Chang'an stayed to join them for a while.
At one point, Liu Chang'an was up more than a thousand yuan, but in the end he lost it all. He broke even over the course of the afternoon.
Fan Jian reported Liu Chang'an's performance that afternoon to Zhong Qing. Zhong Qing didn't say anything in front of Fan Jian, but she had already decided that Liu Chang'an was a man with a litany of vices.
He was lecherous: that morning, he could have simply helped her up, but instead he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her forcefully into his embrace. It was a common trick used by perverts. It took him ages to let Zhong Qing go.
He was a gambler: there was nothing wrong with playing cards or mahjong, but he'd gone to play Dou Dizhu after earning only two hundred yuan. He'd nearly lost it all.
He was greedy and knew no restraint: if he'd walked away after winning a little, he could have quit while he was ahead. Winning over a thousand yuan was no small sum for him. Yet after winning, he lost it all again. According to Fan Jian, Liu Chang'an had slapped his thigh and sighed in regret, looking like a man who'd lost everything in a fit of desperation. So what if he'd lost back the money he'd won?
How could she let someone like that get close to Zhu Juntang? Zhong Qing had to look out for Zhu Juntang, and she also had to carry out Third Mistress Zhu's orders.
Why was Zhu Juntang interested in Liu Chang'an? Zhong Qing couldn't make sense of it. Though it didn't seem to have anything to do with romance, a girl growing curious about a boy was a dangerous sign. Zhong Qing had to nip that danger in the bud, but Zhu Juntang refused to explain why and only insisted that Zhong Qing do everything in her power to arrange a meeting between her and Liu Chang'an.
Zhong Qing sent Fan Jian away when he tried to ingratiate himself by asking if he should call Liu Chang'an back to work the next day. Then she received word that Zhu Juntang and Qin Yanan had returned to Baolong Center. The two had gone to Miyin Temple in Jingxiang County to burn incense and pray that day.
"Gelanfen and Ms. Susan are ready. After an hour-long spa, you have a meeting scheduled with Manager Sima. Dinner is booked at Lanxi Hall. The menu has a new addition today: black garlic steak. Mr. Zhang Jiawei will handle the wine pairing. As you requested, he's been transferred here from the Taipei restaurant and will officially begin handling your food and wine pairings today." Zhong Qing caught up with Zhu Juntang. The girl's brisk steps showed that she was in a good mood.
"Zhang Jiawei is your second brother's friend, right? Aren't you afraid he'll poison you?" Qin Yanan remembered Zhang Jiawei as a man with refined tastes, sporting a little mustache and a passion for fine food and wine. He was a professional food critic who often wrote for food magazines. His most recent official job was managing one of the Michelin-starred restaurants owned by Zhu Juntang.
"Zhang Jiawei cuckolded Zhu Lixing... Hahaha... He came begging me for protection. Why would he help Zhu Lixing take me down?" Zhu Juntang burst out laughing. "Do you remember that sharp-chinned model who called herself the little Yang Ming?"
Qin Yanan furrowed her brow, clearly unable to recall her. There were simply too many girls like that: their makeup, style, and bearing were all similar, and even the way they spoke and the names they chose were much the same. Anyone who remembered one after a single encounter had either an exceptional memory or was a lecher.
But this was a buyer's market, where buyers' needs determined sellers' offerings. The endless stream of girls like this showed there was a market for them. On the one hand, people kept complaining that they all looked alike and conformed to the same tacky trends; on the other, their numbers kept growing. Could this really be a phenomenon determined solely by the girls' own tastes?
"I won't be eating tonight. After the spa, I'll go back to my room and rest for a while. I have to pick up my dad tonight; he's coming by high-speed train."
Qin Yanan stretched. As a local official, Qin Huai had a packed schedule. But this was probably the last birthday celebration for Qin Peng, an old revolutionary, so both the capital and the local government were taking it very seriously. They'd sent many officials, relatives, and old friends. Qin Peng could only receive a handful of them, so Qin Huai had to handle the vast majority. Even the number of people qualified to speak with Qin Huai directly was small, but meeting them still took up a lot of his time.
There was a lotus pond in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in the spa room. Qin Yanan wasn't comfortable being completely naked in front of such wide-open, transparent windows. Zhong Qing turned on the water curtain, and two senior spa therapists selected the music. Zhong Qing was just about to leave.
Zhu Juntang called out to her.
"If I hadn't thought I might have to entertain you, I would've prepared only one bed here." Zhu Juntang stared intently at Qin Yanan's ample bosom.
"I don't owe you any thanks. Save that line for your mother." Qin Yanan instinctively raised a hand to cover her chest.
"Don't massage her chest; she's sensitive," Zhu Juntang instructed. "Only I can touch her. It's a sacred Snow Mountain that no one has ever conquered or climbed."
The two therapists exchanged knowing, suggestive smiles. In the faint mist, Qin Yanan's cheeks looked like peach blossoms in the morning light. She glared at Zhu Juntang, but couldn't be bothered to explain. Zhu Juntang had probably been raised on milk and lacked the tender, maternal love of Third Mistress Zhu, so she was especially interested in other people's soft, ample, fertile parts—the very symbols of motherhood.
Qin Yanan ignored Zhu Juntang and lay down comfortably, enjoying the rhythm of the fingers on her skin—fingers that came with an astonishingly high price tag.
"Have you found him yet?" Zhu Juntang asked offhandedly, as if she wasn't expecting much.
"No."
Zhu Juntang wasn't surprised. "Then I'll look for him myself."
Zhong Qing was at a loss. After hesitating for a moment, she said, "Actually, I ran into him this afternoon."
Zhu Juntang immediately grabbed the fingers that had been moving across her lower back and hips. That area was sensitive, and made it hard for her to concentrate. She stared at Zhong Qing. "Tell me every last detail. Where was it? What was happening? What did you say to each other?"
Qin Yanan also turned around curiously. Who was Zhu Juntang looking for?
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