Chapter Thirty-Three: Wei Xiao’s Hidden Pain

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Without the burden of an ox cart, Shen Jifeng and Wei Xiao reached the Western Capital by evening.

Since they were waiting for Jinchai and the others, Shen Jifeng did not hurry back to the mines. Instead, she took Wei Xiao to the prince’s secondary residence.

“There’s nothing going on today, and I won’t be leaving the estate, so you needn’t accompany me. Take the day off and come back tomorrow morning.”

Wei Xiao glanced at the sky. If he set out for his godmother’s house now, he would still make it in time for dinner.

The Western Capital had once been the capital of the previous dynasty, and its population and area were comparable to those of Bianjing. Wei Xiao’s godmother lived on Fragrant Workshop Street, near the edge of the city.

The moment he turned into the street, the strong fragrance of hempseed oil rushed toward him. Mixed with the distinctive scorched aroma of rendered lard, it formed an invisible net in the sweltering air and wrapped tightly around him.

The bluestone paving of Fragrant Workshop Street had been steeped in years of oil stains, gleaming darkly beneath the sunlight.

Fragrant Workshop Street was famous throughout the Western Capital for its oil presses, just as its name suggested. On either side of the road, the shop banners swayed lazily in the hot wind, bearing names written in broad strokes of black ink: Chen’s Oil Press, Everlasting Prosperity Oil House, and the like.

Wei Xiao followed the street inward and stopped before Zhang’s Oil Press.

The sun had only just set, and the last rays of evening still fell generously across the oil press’s weathered doors.

The bronze bell hanging above the lintel jingled in the evening breeze, mingling with a shrill woman’s voice that reached Wei Xiao’s ears.

“Sister-in-law, we’re about to become family. Family needn’t stand on ceremony. You can safely leave this oil press to A-Kuan. You’ve worked hard all your life; it’s time you enjoyed the blessings of your daughter and son-in-law.”

“A-Kuan’s mother.” The speaker’s tone was unhurried. Wei Xiao recognized it as his godmother’s voice. “This oil press has been in my family for three generations. Back then, even when enemy troops were at the city gates and the fighting had reached the walls, we never stopped opening the doors and doing business. Now the realm is peaceful, and this is the finest time to trade. How could I possibly sell it?”

“You can’t put it that way.” A-Kuan’s mother swayed her broad waist as she sidled up to Madam Zhang. “Chen’s has offered an excellent price. Running an oil press is hard, exhausting work. Why insist on holding on to it? Wouldn’t bright silver be more fragrant than hempseed oil? Before long, your little Yue will marry into our family, and soon enough you’ll be holding a grandchild. Where will you find the time to manage the oil press then?”

Madam Zhang craned her neck toward the doorway. Her daughter, Little Yue, had gone to the Li household to deliver oil, and she did not want the girl to learn that her future in-laws intended to sell the press.

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“A-Kuan’s mother, I’ve already prepared all of Little Yue’s dowry. As long as this oil press remains open, it will bring in money. An old woman like me doesn’t spend much. I’ll save it all for the young couple. While I’m still able, I’ll save whatever I can. Don’t try to persuade me. No matter what you say, I will never sell the oil press.”

Behind her back, A-Kuan’s mother rolled her eyes. If the Zhang family had not owned an oil press worth a decent sum, she would never have considered the match. A lonely widow and her orphaned daughter—afterward, everything would have to depend on her son.

“Sister-in-law, I understand what you’re thinking, but just consider this: Little Yue has always been filial. If you keep the oil press open, she’ll inevitably have to come here and help. What married girl spends every day lingering at her mother’s home? As long as this oil press remains, her heart will remain here too. She won’t be willing to settle down and live her married life properly.”

“Don’t worry. After they’re married, I’ll hire another worker. I won’t make Little Yue come running here every day.”

Madam Zhang looked toward the doorway again. Seeing no sign of her daughter, she secretly breathed a sigh of relief. “That settles it. A-Kuan’s mother, don’t bring this up again—and especially don’t mention it in front of Little Yue.”

Seeing that her honeyed persuasion had failed, A-Kuan’s mother’s expression changed. Her voice suddenly rose. “Sister-in-law, that’s not how it works! Little Yue is eighteen this year, a famous old maid throughout the Western Capital!” Her sharp fingernails tapped against the oil counter. “If my A-Kuan weren’t honoring the old affection between our families, who would want to marry an old maid who spends all day steeped in an oil press?”

“Then don’t marry me!”

Zhang Xiaoyue entered the main room through the back door. Madam Zhang thought, Oh no. She had been watching the front entrance and had no idea when the girl had slipped in from the rear courtyard.

“Let’s call off the match between our families. Tomorrow I’ll go to the ward head myself.”

Zhang Xiaoyue’s voice was crisp and clear, every word striking A-Kuan’s mother like a nail driven straight into her weakest point.

“You!” A-Kuan’s mother kicked a basket beside her out through the door. “What a wretched creature! My family wouldn’t marry such a shrew. Stay with your oil press and be an old maid for the rest of your life!”

“Bah!”

Even after reaching the doorway, she did not forget to spit on the shop sign.

“You child.” Madam Zhang sighed. She was not grieved that the match had fallen through; she only felt sorry for her daughter. “Perhaps I could ask your Brother Wei to look around among the soldiers and find someone suitable for you.”

Zhang Xiaoyue began putting the things in the room back in order. “Mother, I never wanted to marry that badly in the first place. If you hadn’t been so anxious, I wouldn’t have agreed to this match. Their own family is barely getting by, their son has no real ability, and yet he still finds fault with me from head to toe. Why should I put up with that nonsense? I won’t!”

“Don’t trouble my Brother Wei, either.” Carrying a sack of sesame, Zhang Xiaoyue tossed it effortlessly onto a shelf.

“He’s supported our family all these years, along with the widows of the other soldiers. I’ve hardly seen him in a decent set of clothes. He has enough burdens already.”

“Ah.” Madam Zhang let out a long sigh. Whenever Wei Xiao was mentioned, she could not help thinking of the son who had died young. “I haven’t touched the silver your Brother Wei gave me. I’ve saved it all. He spends money like a prodigal, earning one coin and spending two. How will he ever afford to marry a wife? It isn’t good for a person to be too devoted to others. Your Brother Wei has trapped himself in his own sense of duty, with no way to break free.”

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The final trace of afterglow vanished completely. Hidden in the shadows, Wei Xiao’s face was unreadable. A dull ache stirred at the severed little finger of his left hand.

He gave a self-mocking smile. So the thing that had refused to heal all this time was not the wound, but his heart.

Inside, the Zhang mother and daughter continued talking, their conversation having already turned to the oil press’s business.

Wei Xiao lingered outside for another moment, then strode away from Fragrant Workshop Street.

When Shen Jifeng saw Wei Xiao enter with a dark expression, she thought the sun must have risen in the west. It was a rare sight indeed. The man who ordinarily would not so much as blink if Mount Tai collapsed before him actually knew how to be angry.

“Have you eaten?”

Wei Xiao cupped his hands. “Not yet, Your Highness.”

After that single sentence, the dejected, dispirited Wei Xiao disappeared. In his place stood the familiar guard who never allowed his joy or anger to show.

“You have something troubling you?” Shen Jifeng leaned closer. “It’s all right. Who in this world has never met with disappointment? There’s food in the kitchen. Come, let’s have a drink. A good drunken sleep can drown a thousand sorrows.”

“Your Highness, I do not drink.” Wei Xiao rejected her suggestion.

Shen Jifeng frowned. A grown man who did not drink was either a coward or a cur.

“I am the commandery princess. You must do as I say. Come on—let’s go have a drink!”