Volume One: The Carefree Journey Amidst Indistinguishable Paper Leaves Chapter Eighty-Four: The Account Room

Yang Ning was taken aback, but Gu Qinghan was already frowning and said, “What did you say? Why can’t we see the Chief Steward?” She had stayed in the old residence for a few days years ago and had an excellent memory, so she vaguely remembered the old man who opened the door, though she couldn’t recall his name.

The old man replied, “The steward you speak of, Qi Hong, hasn’t been in the old residence for a long time. Naturally, you can’t see him.”

Gu Qinghan was truly shocked, exclaiming, “Qi Hong isn’t here? How is that possible? Hasn’t he always managed the old residence?” They hadn’t even set foot inside and already everything seemed oddly changed.

“Enough talk. Open the door and let us in.” Yang Ning reached out to push the door, but the old man blocked him, saying, “You’d best leave now. If you’re pretending to be the young heir and the people in the house find out, you won’t be able to leave even if you want to.”

Yang Ning paused, secretly wondering how this old man knew he was pretending to be the young heir.

Gu Qinghan grew annoyed, her voice frosty: “If Qi Hong isn’t in the old residence, then where is he? Who’s in charge here now?” As if struck by a thought, she removed her hat, her hair cascading like a waterfall. She fixed her eyes on the old man and asked, “Do you recognize me?”

The old man scrutinized her, startled, and blurted out, “It’s... it’s the Third Madam!”

Gu Qinghan thought, this old man’s memory is not bad at all. The old man had already opened the door and was kneeling on the ground. “This old servant was disrespectful. I beg Third Madam’s forgiveness!”

Yang Ning, still puzzled, wondered if his impersonation had been seen through. But when the old man recognized Gu Qinghan, he realized his mistake. Even Gu Qinghan and the Dowager hadn’t seen through him—how could this old man, who likely had never seen the noble heir in person, have discovered the truth?

“Get up,” Gu Qinghan said as she entered the courtyard. Yang Ning followed. The moment they stepped inside, despite the bright daylight, a chill seemed to pervade the place. Perhaps it was because the residence was so large and sparsely populated that it felt cold and desolate.

The old man closed the gate and followed, and Yang Ning now noticed that the old man walked with a limp—he was lame.

They walked deeper into the residence, passing rock gardens and flat lawns. Not a soul was seen until they reached the main hall. Gu Qinghan’s pretty face was grave. She turned and asked the old man, “Where is everyone? Why is it so deserted here?”

The old man hurriedly replied, “Master Cheng has gone into the city and will return tonight. There are still a dozen or so people in the house. I will call them at once.”

“Wait,” Gu Qinghan said with a frown. “Who is this Master Cheng you mentioned? Why haven’t I heard of him?” She added, “You look familiar, but I can’t recall your name.”

The old man responded, “This old servant is Wei Tong. When Third Madam married into the family, I was already here. Madam has a good memory to remember me.”

“And you have a good memory to recognize me,” Gu Qinghan said, sitting down gracefully in a chair. Yang Ning also sat, glancing around.

“Third Madam doesn’t know Master Cheng?” Wei Tong was surprised. “He’s the Chief Steward’s son. For the past two years, Master Cheng has been managing the old residence. I thought Madam would have known by now.”

“The Chief Steward’s son?” Gu Qinghan was even more perplexed. “You say he’s been in charge these years—then where did the Chief Steward go? You just said we can’t see him. What did you mean by that?”

Wei Tong explained, “Three years ago, the Chief Steward suddenly suffered a stroke and has been paralyzed since, bedridden and cared for by others. Around that time, Master Cheng—Qi Cheng—had just arrived, so he temporarily took over the affairs of the old residence.”

Gu Qinghan was stunned. “Three years ago? You mean to say, for three years, this Qi Cheng has been managing the old residence and the fief?”

Wei Tong seemed surprised by her reaction. “Third Madam, you knew nothing of this? Master Cheng travels to the capital every year—haven’t you met him?”

Yang Ning, too, was surprised by these revelations. He frowned. “Third Madam, you’ve never heard of Qi Cheng? Did the Chief Steward even have a son? And what did Qi Cheng do before?”

Gu Qinghan shook her head. “Qi Hong was a relative of the Qi family. I didn’t know much about him, only that his ancestral home was in Jiangxia, and he later came to serve the old Marquis here. He’s always worked in the old residence. I never knew he had other family.”

Wei Tong said, “The Chief Steward seldom spoke of his family, but I heard he owned some property in Jiangxia and had several children. Qi Cheng did business in Jiangxia for years. When he suddenly came to the old residence to see his father, the Chief Steward was also surprised. But we servants dare not ask too much. From what I gathered, the relationship between father and son wasn’t good—they quarreled several times. Then, one day after such a quarrel, the Chief Steward suffered his stroke and never recovered.”

“This Qi Cheng’s background is certainly interesting,” Yang Ning said with a slight smile. “The Chief Steward was fine, then Qi Cheng arrives, and suddenly he’s paralyzed. Third Madam, isn’t there something odd about this?” He looked at Wei Tong. “When the Chief Steward had his stroke and couldn’t manage the house, did anyone go to the capital to report it?”

Wei Tong replied, “Qi Cheng sent someone to the capital that very day. With the Chief Steward bedridden and no one else in charge, Qi Cheng temporarily took over the management.”

“The Marquis’s household never received word of this,” Gu Qinghan said, her beautiful eyes full of astonishment. “Qi Cheng took over, and no one here objected? What qualifications did he have to inherit such responsibility?”

Wei Tong was taken aback. “That was the Marquis’s decision. The messenger, Little Cui, brought back a letter from the capital, instructing us that Qi Cheng was to assume all duties of the Chief Steward and that everyone in the residence must follow his orders.”

“Third Madam, it seems there’s much more we don’t know than we thought,” Yang Ning sighed. “Even you didn’t know the Chief Steward had been replaced here.”

Gu Qinghan calmed herself, pondering for a moment before asking, “So Qi Cheng is due back tonight?”

“He left yesterday, saying he was going to Jingzhou City to visit the old Chief Steward. After the stroke, Qi Cheng sent him to Jingzhou for treatment. I haven’t seen the Chief Steward in a long time and don’t know his current situation. But before leaving, Qi Cheng said he’d be back by tonight at the latest.”

Gu Qinghan sneered. “Very well. I’d like to see what sort of man this Qi Cheng is.” Then she asked, “Do you know anything about the tax silver? The tax money from Jiangling is already over a month late. Why hasn’t it been delivered?”

Wei Tong looked bewildered. “I only tend the gate... I don’t know about such matters.” Then he added, “But Zhao, the accountant, is in the house. He manages all the accounts and should know about the tax silver. I’ll call him over right away.” He was about to leave when Gu Qinghan called after him, “Wait, Wei Tong, is there a steward surnamed Luo here?”

“Steward Luo?” Wei Tong paused, then shook his head. “There are only sixteen people in the house. Besides the accountant, cooks, and stable hands, the rest are a few young lads Qi Cheng hired, but they all went with him to the city this time. There’s no one named Luo. Apart from the Chief Steward, only Mr. Zhao is a scholar; there’s no steward. With so few people, a steward isn’t necessary—this isn’t the Marquis’s household in the capital.”

Gu Qinghan, clever as she was, felt bewildered, and even Yang Ning sensed the old residence was shrouded in oddities.

“Go call Mr. Zhao,” Gu Qinghan instructed, gesturing for Wei Tong to leave. The old man bowed and retreated.

Gu Qinghan leaned her elbow on the armrest, her delicate hand supporting her chin, her lovely face grave and lost in thought. Yang Ning knew she must be full of questions and drew closer, asking quietly, “Third Madam, have the taxes been short in recent years?”

“Except for this time, they were only occasionally delayed, never missing,” she replied, her brows furrowing. “Wei Tong said when the Chief Steward had his stroke, someone was sent to report it to the capital, but I knew nothing. If the tax silver hadn’t been delayed, we wouldn’t have come back at all—I’d be ignorant of everything happening here. The Dowager entrusted the household to me, yet... I feel useless.”

“With the distance from the capital, and taxes always previously on time, how could you have known anything was wrong?” Yang Ning said gently. “But one thing is certain: if someone from here did go to the Marquis’s household, and you still knew nothing, that means someone deliberately blocked the news from reaching you.”

“That could only be Steward Qiu,” Gu Qinghan said. “Anyone coming from here would never be turned away by the Marquis’s house. Even if they came from Jiangling, they’d be received. But all visitors are handled by Steward Qiu. If someone came from here, he’d know. But why conceal such a major event as the Chief Steward’s stroke? Didn’t he realize this couldn’t be hidden forever, and one day I’d find out? How would he explain it then?”

The more Gu Qinghan thought about it, the stranger it all seemed; her brows remained knitted in worry.

Just then, footsteps sounded outside, and a man hurried in. Before Yang Ning could see him clearly, the man had already knelt and said respectfully, “Your humble servant Zhao Yuan pays his respects to the Young Heir and Third Madam!”

Yang Ning saw that the newcomer wore a scholar’s robe and a blue cloth cap—clearly a learned man.

“You’re Mr. Zhao? Get up and speak,” Gu Qinghan said coolly, her bearing refined and composed from years of managing family affairs and her noble birth.

Accountant Zhao Yuan stood, a thin man in his forties with an eight-shaped mustache and a tuft of beard beneath his chin. He looked scholarly yet shrewd. His face bore a respectful smile. “I did not know the Young Heir and Third Madam would return suddenly and made no preparations. Please forgive me.”

“Mr. Zhao, I am asking you: why has the tax silver from Jiangling not been delivered to the capital?” Gu Qinghan’s face was cold. “What has happened?”

“Tax silver?” Zhao Yuan looked astonished. “Third Madam, which tax silver do you mean?”

“Of course this year’s autumn silver!” Gu Qinghan frowned. “Surely you don’t think I’m asking for next year’s taxes?”

Each year, the old residence sent tax silver to the capital twice: once at the turn of spring and summer, and again at the turn of autumn and winter.

Zhao Yuan immediately said, “Third Madam, you must be joking. The autumn silver was dispatched at the end of September. It was sent early this year, after last year’s slight delay, so the Marquis’s house wouldn’t worry. It should have arrived by early October, without any delay.”