Chapter Forty-Four: A Chance Encounter

The winding stone steps numbered three hundred and nineteen.
This was not as simple as taking three hundred and nineteen ordinary steps.
Madam Huang supported Mrs. Yang, and Xu Ruojin wanted to hand the wine jar to Chen Cai, but Mrs. Yang refused.
"Since you brewed the sacrificial wine yourself, you should carry it up. Otherwise, how could you repay your father's favor?"
Xu Ruojin was drenched in cold sweat. With her frail body, climbing up was already a feat—let alone carrying such a large jar of wine.
She could not argue with Mrs. Yang's insistence. Lifting the jar, she began to climb, with Spring Grass at her side to help, sharing some of the burden.
Li Qiuping, being pregnant, did not need to follow them up the mountain. She simply found a spot below to sip tea, waiting for the others to descend.
Only Xu Zimo was the slowest.
He had barely taken a hundred steps before sweat poured off him like rain, soaking through his clothes.
"I can't do it—I'm absolutely exhausted. Did they renovate these steps this year? Why are they harder to climb than last year?"
"It's because you've put on more weight this year. Keep moving, or Father will whip you again," Xu Zilin said, recalling the past. Instantly, Xu Zimo was energized.
Remembering last year's beating, his trembling flesh tensed, and he held his breath, struggling upward with all his might.
By now, Li Zhonglin had lost any romantic thoughts.
Looking at the long stone staircase, he felt the urge to turn back, but seeing the ladies helping each other, he—a man—would surely be scorned if he gave up now.
No wonder, before leaving home, Old Master Xu had asked if everyone had eaten well that morning.
It turned out they were all waiting for him to falter here...
How cunning!
Li Zhonglin dragged his weak legs and kept going.
Yet the oldest among them, Xu Yaohui, moved the fastest.
His steps were light, his sharp gaze fixed ahead, not regarding the stairs as any hardship. He seemed to be enjoying the scenery, stroking his beard and praising the view as he walked.
Now and then, he recited lines of poetry, leaving those behind him, exhausted as shrimps, speechless.
Xu Ruojin found herself seeing her father in a new light.
He was a scholar by birth, having sat for the imperial examinations year after year, often failing, but through years of diligence had risen to his current position as registrar. He had certainly profited enough to support his wayward sons.
Yet he showed not a trace of arrogance or indulgence, but rather the refined backbone of a literati.
If he were one to indulge in banquets and pleasures day after day, not even a robust twenty-year-old would climb these steps so easily, let alone a man in his forties.

For example... Scholar Li behind them.
It seemed her father possessed a measure of shrewdness after all—not the debauched, greedy official she had imagined.
Xu Ruojin walked a while, rested a while, but dared not linger too long, lest her strength dissipate.
When the group reached halfway up the mountain and stepped onto the final stair, a temple embedded in the hillside suddenly appeared before them.
The sound of chanting from the Buddha hall drifted out, washing away the fatigue of the climb. Xu Ruojin's face brightened with curiosity and delight. Xu Zimo crawled up, hands and feet, full of annoyance. "That wretched sound again—so irritating."
"Sacred ground of Buddhism, watch your words," Xu Ruojin glanced at her father.
Xu Zimo looked up to see his father glaring, quickly shut his mouth, and followed obediently.
The place of worship was not inside the temple, but on a clearing behind the mountain.
This was not the ancestral hall of the Xu family. Xu Yaohui had invited several masters to relocate the ancestral tablets here, and the monks of Lingkong Temple had chanted for forty-nine days.
Every year, during Qingming and the Food Offering Festival, they came to pay respects—a major event for the Xu family.
The family set out early, and having spread word of their time for ancestor worship, they encountered few other visitors.
Xu Yaohui led his family straight to the ancestral tablets.
Mrs. Yang, catching her breath, called to Xu Ruojin, "Come, you're the main character today."
Xu Ruojin took it seriously, following Mrs. Yang's instructions and arranging the offerings prepared at home one by one.
Pig's head, chicken and duck, assorted pastries...
Next came the sacrificial wine.
Xu Ruojin brought out the jar she had brewed herself and carefully opened it.
A rich aroma wafted on the breeze, surprising those nearby.
Xu Yaohui looked at Xu Ruojin with a hint of admiring surprise in his eyes, "You've mastered a fine craft—well done."
Xu Zilin and Xu Zimo said nothing. Li Zhonglin, full of delight, chimed in, "Excellent wine, truly excellent. Such a pity I can't taste it myself..."
Mrs. Yang immediately turned to glare at him. Xu Yaohui merely coughed, his brows knit, saying nothing more.
Xu Ruojin, inwardly rolling her eyes a thousand times, thought: He covets wine for the ancestors?
Unless he becomes a ghost himself...
Yet the scent of the wine reminded Xu Ruojin of the cold-faced man.
That night, he too had carried a faint aroma of wine.

Pushing aside her wild thoughts, Xu Ruojin had little energy left to resent the others.
She realized she had been tricked by Mrs. Yang.
Upon learning her wine would be used for the ceremony, she had asked if a small jar was needed, but Mrs. Yang claimed not to know and insisted the whole jar be brought.
Only when Mama Huang produced twelve wine cups did Xu Ruojin realize that filling twelve cups was all that was required—there was no need for such a large jar.
Mrs. Yang had wanted her to carry the whole jar up those three hundred steps, wear herself out, just for amusement.
Cursing Mrs. Yang silently, Xu Ruojin kept her composure and carefully poured the wine.
Her arms were already numb from carrying the jar so long. She pressed on, afraid a slip would shatter the jar—a nightmare.
All twelve cups filled, Mrs. Yang arranged them.
The women retreated to the back and knelt, while Xu Yaohui and his two sons stepped forward, bowed, and reported the family's affairs for the year to their ancestors.
Xu Yaohui made special mention of "the second daughter’s engagement to the Zhang family," and Mrs. Yang nearly glared Xu Ruojin to death with her sidelong glance.
Xu Ruojin focused solely on the ritual, ignoring her.
After an hour, the ceremony finally concluded.
The sunlight blazed. Looking from the mountainside into the distance, the scenery was pleasant, and none felt eager to leave.
Mrs. Yang, having exerted herself all morning, was weary. "Master, why not visit Lingkong Temple, rest a while, and have a vegetarian meal? We could leave in the afternoon," she said, considerate of the others. "The children would like to stay a bit longer too."
"Let’s go then. I wish to speak with the abbot,"
Xu Yaohui agreed, leading his family toward the temple.
Xu Ruojin still carried the half-full jar, her face as bitter as a melon. Before she could ask if the wine should be taken to the carriage, since it couldn’t be brought into the temple, she saw a group ascending the stone steps ahead.
That familiar-looking girl—wasn't she the maid who had accompanied Zhang Zhongheng to the Xu home last time?
And the woman she served must be Madam Zhang.
Xu Ruojin’s heart tightened. Before she could react, Mrs. Yang was already greeting them, "Fancy meeting Madam Zhang here. It seems our two families are truly destined..."
Madam Zhang seemed equally surprised to run into them.
Her gaze fell on Xu Ruojin, who was still holding the wine jar.
Xu Ruojin, too, looked at Madam Zhang...