Chapter 387: 141. A Way to Help

141. A Way to Help

In the present day, the Great Zhou Dynasty still retains many ancient rites.

Furthermore, the Zhou court established by Empress Wei Zhao often considers itself the successor to the Zhou Dynasty of the Pre-Qin era, naturally promoting the ancient rites of Zhou with great vigor.

Leaves are an essential item for the people of Great Zhou to celebrate the beginning of autumn.

During the autumn-welcoming ceremony at the Great Zhou imperial court, when the Grand Historian reports that "autumn has arrived," one or two red leaves will drift down from a century-old phoenix tree planted in the deep courts of the Shangyang Palace, to be presented before the Empress as an omen of auspiciousness.

As for whether these phoenix leaves fell naturally or were manually plucked, that is not something to be concerned about.

These red leaves are then cut into flower shapes by female officials in colorful robes and worn by the Empress herself, tucked into her hair to create an "autumn-welcoming makeup" look, which she then wears to lead the autumn festival celebrations held by the court.

Thus, this autumn-welcoming makeup, much like the plum blossom makeup recently spread from the imperial court and popular in Chang'an and Luoyang, has become a trend, pursued by the noble ladies and common women of Great Zhou.

On the side of the bustling street, Ouyang Rong took a glance; the little girl in the tattered red jacket peddling from a basket was selling exactly these phoenix tree leaves cut into flower shapes.

There are many maple forests in the mountains near Xunyang City, but phoenix trees are rare; it is unknown where the little girl in the tattered red jacket managed to pick them.

However, her little head is sharp; the phoenix leaves cut into flower shapes in her basket are all inscribed with love poems or verses of deep-seated longing, written in a delicate hand, which is quite presentable.

Coincidentally, it is dusk, and the noble ladies and young misses who have been out enjoying the autumn chrysanthemums are returning, exhausted.

As long as the little girl in the tattered red jacket carries her basket, runs diligently through the streets, and calls out to sell, combined with her pitiful appearance of being forced to work, it strikes a chord with the sentimental, sheltered young ladies.

Sure enough, in any era, women's money is the easiest to earn.

Or rather, it is the money of the men around women that is easiest to earn.

It is the same right now; Xie Lingjiang and Qin Ying are surrounding the bamboo basket to pick out red phoenix leaves, while Ouyang Rong, standing behind them, takes a look at the little girl in the tattered red jacket.

"How much for one?" he asks gently.

When Li Dalang spoke earlier, the little girl in the tattered red jacket lowered her head, not daring to stare at the distinguished guests. Now, as Ouyang Rong speaks, although her head is still not fully raised, her eyes roll upward, peeking at Ouyang Rong.

Her cheeks are thin, and her yellow hair shows signs of malnutrition, but her eyes are surprisingly large, her pupils clear and bright like lacquer, hiding her limpid clarity as she secretly sizes up strangers, like a little deer drinking by a lake, ready to run at the first sign of danger.

At this moment, whether it is because Ouyang Rong's voice is gentle, or because of his felt hat and soap-colored official uniform—which does not look as imposing as those of Xie Lingjiang, Li Dalang, or Qin Ying—the psychological pressure on her is minimal, and he seems more like an attendant.

"H-humbly asking for your patronage, five wen each," Huang Xuan says softly.

After speaking, her gaze falls on the handsome face beneath the felt hat of this soap-clad youth, and then she silently looks away.

Based on her experience selling on the streets, as far as men are concerned, those who are handsome are usually attendants or subordinates. As for the masters and young lords, they are usually plain-looking, either fat and round or stern and serious; it depends on what they do, as the temperament of a wealthy merchant differs from that of a high official, but they are rarely fair-skinned and handsome.

As for the noble ladies, it is the exact opposite.

Those who are beautiful are definitely of high status, wealthy or noble; their attire goes without saying, but one only needs to look at their hands—the fair, delicate hands of women who have never done manual labor, painted with henna, with neatly trimmed nails.

Which woman from a poor family has the time to maintain her hands regularly?

For a little girl in a tattered red jacket struggling in the marketplace, one glance is enough to distinguish noble from base, a rapid screening process.

After all, these wealthy, noble, and soft-hearted ladies are her target customers.

Ouyang Rong points casually at the red phoenix leaves in the basket:

"Did you write these poems?"

Huang Xuan shakes her head: "I didn't write them; some are from books, and some I heard from others."

"I know, I mean the calligraphy."

"Yes."

"Who taught you to read?"

Ouyang Rong's questions are numerous, coming one after another, causing Huang Xuan to glance at this fair-skinned, handsome youth in the felt hat, then turn to look at the cold, taciturn noble youth in brocade behind him.

The brocade-clad noble youth's purse is bulging, seemingly full of silver beans, but he pays little attention to the conversation between the felt-hatted youth and her, focusing his attention mainly on the two noble ladies picking leaves by the basket.

The felt-hatted youth looks more and more like an attendant asking questions.

Huang Xuan lowers her head: "A scholar who lived next door used to ask me to buy paper and ink for him... he taught me a few characters in his spare time..."

Ouyang Rong nods: "You are quite studious; your literacy and calligraphy are not inferior to children of your age who attend private schools. It is truly commendable."

Huang Xuan shakes her head, her eyes not looking at him, shifting instead to the two noble ladies picking leaves.

The two women have finished picking; Xie Lingjiang and Qin Ying are standing side by side, discussing their new leaves with great interest. Ouyang Rong does not press further, turning his gaze toward them.

Li Dalang is preparing to take out silver beans, looking as if he cannot be bothered to wait for change, when Ouyang Rong quietly reaches out, tugs his sleeve, and hands him his own purse.

Li Dalang is startled, realizing there is an extra purse in his sleeve, and understands his friend's intention. He takes the corresponding amount of copper coins from Ouyang Rong's purse and hands them to Huang Xuan, not a single wen more or less.

After the purchase, the four of them turn and leave. Xie Lingjiang and Qin Ying walk side by side, discussing their new leaves with great delight.

Huang Xuan does not know she missed out on a generous tip; selling two folding fans and several red leaves in such a short time is already an unexpected joy, a bountiful harvest.

The other vendors watching nearby look on with envy; some acquaintances even tease her a few times.

The little girl in the tattered red jacket seems not to hear, carefully putting away the copper coins, glancing at the sky, and without lingering, she trots off on her short legs toward the crowded flow of people entering the city.

She wants to make a few more sales before the sun sets, hoping to encounter such generous guests again.

Ouyang Rong and the others are unaware that the little girl in the tattered red jacket is full of energy. Seeing that the sky is getting late, they discuss and decide to go to a popular restaurant by the street, sitting by a window on the second floor and ordering a table of dishes.

Ouyang Rong glances at the red leaves chosen by the two women, inscribed with delicate small characters.

Little Shimei bought seven leaves, seemingly loving two of them the most, unable to put them down.

"Let me see yours..." Qin Ying leans in curiously, reading softly: "Plum stamen new makeup, willow leaf brows; little lotus charm emerges from the Jade Pool..."

There is another leaf, which she reads clearly: "Light shirt like mist, jade skin like carved; a person in the depths of the painted tower."

"What did the Qin family sister pick?" Xie Lingjiang also looks at the red leaf in Qin Ying's fingers, whispering: "Last night the skirt belt was untied, this morning the spider flies. Lead powder cannot be discarded, could it be the return of the husband..."

Ouyang Rong laughs, interjecting:

"Qin Xiaoniang only bought one; why did Little Shimei buy so many?"

"I like them, don't you dare meddle, humph. Besides, you don't teach me poetry, can't I learn on my own? This is also 'turning pages'."

"A 'page-turner' who doesn't read proper books but specializes in reading these? How childish." Ouyang Rong shakes his head.

"You're the childish one." She glares with almond eyes.

Ouyang Rong smiles, casually taking the bowl and chopsticks in front of Xie Lingjiang, lifting a long-spouted teapot, and pouring a thin stream of steaming hot tea to rinse the bowl and chopsticks.

Seeing this, Li Dalang follows suit, taking Qin Ying's bowl and chopsticks to help rinse them.

Xie Lingjiang rests her chin on her hands, her eyes flowing as she watches her meticulous, attentive Ru Shixiong, suppressing the corners of her mouth, and suddenly asks:

"Of these red leaf verses, which one does Ru Shixiong like the most?"

"I like them all."

"Tell the truth."

"Hmm, I don't really like any of them."

Xie Lingjiang's expression is not surprised; she smiles beautifully: "How about this one?"

As Ouyang Rong is lowering his head to rinse the tea set, a folding fan suddenly appears in his field of vision. He looks up to see Little Shimei handing it to him with a smile.

"Here, it's for you."

Qin Ying also hands a folding fan to the surprised Li Dalang, turning her head to smile: "The one Xie sister picked, Ouyang Young Master will surely like."

Ouyang Rong raises an eyebrow, opening the folding fan. Before he can finish reading, Xie Lingjiang is already reciting in a soft, Wu-dialect-like voice:

"The Zhou state is happy, Rong has a good scholar."

Her willow eyebrows curve as she tilts her head:

"Look what I discovered; among the five white paper folding fans sold by the red-jacketed girl, there happened to be one with this line. It's truly fate."

Qin Ying laughs:

"Xie sister might not know, but the four characters 'Ouyang Lianghan' are so famous in Chang'an and Luoyang; which young lady in the Divine Capital doesn't want to see the real Lianghan? It has become a trend."

"It's the same in Xunyang; even buying a folding fan on the street, one can encounter it... Well, after all, Ouyang Young Master is the Changshi of this prefecture, known to all."

Seeing the helpless expression on his Ru Shixiong's face, Xie Lingjiang bursts into laughter, covering her mouth and playfully saying:

"That red-jacketed girl probably never imagined that the person buying her fan is the very person in the poem."

Just then, a quarrel erupts downstairs. The four of them look out the window, where a crowd has gathered on the street below to watch the commotion.

In the open space surrounded by the crowd, there is a familiar red figure.

It is the little girl in the tattered red jacket from just a moment ago.

On the street, a fat-faced steward and a skinny monkey-like assistant have arrived. Not far behind them stands a middle-aged merchant with his arms crossed, watching coldly with an unkind expression.

The fat steward shoves the little girl in the tattered red jacket to the ground. Her palms are scraped raw by the rough floorboards, and the red leaves in her basket are scattered everywhere, blown about by the autumn wind.

The fat steward picks up a handful of red leaves, examining them with a sneer, and holds them up:

"Everyone, take a look! They are all using Hanlei Ink. This little thief, specializing in stealing ink! I have already reported this to the master."

The skinny assistant takes a red leaf from the fat steward's hand and runs to present it to the merchant with arms crossed.

The merchant's face turns icy.

Seeing this, the fat steward throws the red leaves onto the girl on the ground, his words burning and aggressive:

"The master is very angry now and is preparing to hand you over to the government to charge you with theft."

"Also, Brother Chen is my brother-in-law, and he is also the landlord who unfortunately rented you the house. If he hears about this, he won't rent the house to a thief anymore."

"Little thief, hurry back and find your idiot father, hurry up and raise the money, pay back the ink you've stolen over the years, and then pack your things and get out! I'll see which landlord in this Xingzi Ward area will be willing to rent a house to your family in the future. Truly unlucky, bah!"

The little girl in the tattered red jacket shakes her head in defense, but she is pointed at by the crowd, her face pale and miserable.

The skinny assistant suddenly leans over: "However, the old madam at the brothel next door is willing to help you. You decide..."

The little girl in the tattered red jacket is stunned for a moment, and upon realizing the implication, her heart turns to ash.

The steward and the assistant exchange a glance, secretly laughing in their hearts. Just then, a voice comes:

"Are there any more red leaves? Give me some more."

The fat steward and the skinny assistant are stunned, turning to see a youth in a felt hat walking down.

"What are you doing, kid? Don't meddle in other people's business..." the fat steward says warily.

Ouyang Rong ignores him completely, tosses the purse, walks to Huang Xuan's side, and squats down, stuffing the purse into her hand.

"My young lady loves poetry and is quite fond of the red leaves you sell. Make some more, and you can send them to the Xunyang Prince's Mansion in Xiushui Ward another day. Just report the name of the Jin Ling Xie young lady at the gatehouse, and someone will pay you."

He lowers his head to pick up the red leaves in the basket one by one, while speaking calmly.

Huang Xuan looks down, blankly staring at the purse that fell from the sky; this sudden business makes her a bit dazed.

Ouyang Rong packs all the phoenix tree red leaves into the basket. The youth adjusts his felt hat, stands up, and walks away directly, never looking at the fat steward and his companion, nor meddling in the matter further.

The fat steward and the skinny assistant heard the words "Xunyang Prince's Mansion" and "Jin Ling Xie young lady," and their bodies stiffened.

Huang Xuan cannot care about much else; she picks up the purse, preparing to turn and beg for mercy, lowering her head to plead, afraid of being evicted by the landlord with her father and becoming homeless.

But the next moment, she finds the fat steward in front of her suddenly apologizing, nodding and bowing, humble and submissive, no longer fierce.

It is as if a vicious wolf has turned into a lamb.

And the skinny assistant who was playing the bad cop is now extremely enthusiastic, showing concern for her, and even actively bending over to help her up.

Huang Xuan shrinks back, instinctively resisting their approach.

The fat-faced steward and the skinny assistant exchange a glance. Then, one after another, they apologize with the utmost sincerity, then take out all the silver they have on them with pained expressions, place it beside her, and bow to apologize.

A short while later, the two of them scurry away in a panic.

And not far away, the ink workshop owner who had come to question her has long since vanished without a trace, and no one knows when he ran off.

The group of troublemakers came quickly and left quickly, as if nothing had happened.

The passersby who had stopped to watch the show have expressions of regret for missing a good show, or are lost in thought, or are filled with envy.

Only the little girl in the tattered red jacket remains, sitting paralyzed on the gray stone road, her two bleeding little hands clutching the purse tightly, holding it to her chest, her small face looking around in a daze.

Finally, she stares blankly in the direction the felt-hatted youth left, muttering foolishly:

"Xiushui Ward... Xunyang Prince's Mansion... Xie young lady..."

(End of chapter)

And not far away, the ink mill owner who originally came to find fault had already disappeared without a trace, and I don't know when he ran away.

The group of people who came to find fault came quickly and left quickly, as if nothing had happened.

The passers-by who stopped to eat melons had expressions of regret for not having a good show, or were lost in thought, or were extremely envious.

Only the little girl in the broken red cotton-padded jacket was left sitting on the gray stone road, her two bleeding little hands clutching her wallet tightly, covering her chest, her little face looking around blankly.

Finally, she looked at the direction where the felt-hat youth left with lost eyes, and muttered stupidly:

"Xiushui Square... Xunyang Prince's Mansion... Xie Xiaoniangzi..."

(End of chapter)