Chapter 12

After the Gu family finished their meal, since they had come under the pretext of borrowing the name of the Incense Appreciation Society, they ought to take care of a few related practical matters. The ladies present who were on good terms with the Gu family ladies also brought their daughters along; they had all secretly heard that the Su family would be coming, and wanted to extract a few words of praise from her to benefit their children's marriage prospects.

Unexpectedly, Madame Gu suffered a setback at the Su family's place, so everyone's interest waned, saving themselves from boredom and losing face before other ladies.

The elder ladies remained in the Flower Hall to chat casually with Madame Gu, perhaps intending to send Lu Bao'er's group away; Madame Gu thought: "Is this Lady Xie's first visit to our manor? You are young; if you stay with us in the Flower Hall you'll surely grow bored, so why not follow JiaoJiao to the back garden, where several young ladies are playing a drinking game with sour plum soup—perfect to join in."

Indeed, it makes sense: the younger ladies are certainly those whose husbands hold low official ranks; in the court, who can rise after every few decades? Thus this remark cleanly separates high rank from low, highlighting the great disparity in status, and they would not be able to mingle together.

Lu Bao'er nodded and said: "Your manor's Ice Lake Pavilion is lovely, with many rare items; coming here for the first time has opened my eyes—how could I be bored? Having sat a long time at the banquet, I also want to move around more, so I'll follow Miss Li to the back garden to have a look." She heeded her grandmother's teachings, speaking to Madame Gu without humility or arrogance, and also complimented her mansion's beauty.

No matter how many times you flatter, flattery never fails; even if one dislikes Lu Bao'er, one does not strike a smiling face, and with Madame Gu's magnanimity she would not find fault with her.

When Lu Bao'er and Lin Yudi and other low‑rank ladies went to the back garden, several young ladies had already gathered there, playing a drinking game with sour plum soup—called a drinking game, though no alcohol was actually consumed; they simply competed in poetry, ci, fu, and prose to win a reputation for talent.

The young ladies who played with Li Jiao all came from families whose official rank was lower than that of Minister Gu; their mothers had urged them to get close to Li Jiao, so they naturally put her on a pedestal and did not compete over who was better at the flower‑throwing game.

Li Jiao had never taken a liking to Lu Bao'er; seeing her arrive, Liu Yanshuang, who got along well with Li Jiao, quietly tugged at her sleeve and whispered: "Did you see that Lady Xie? I heard from my mother that she's from the countryside, knows no etiquette at all—don't let her play with us, or when she fails the flower‑throwing game it will embarrass us all."

Hearing that, Li Jiao smiled softly and said: "Don't be so petty! She is a guest; since we are playing, we should play together with all the ladies, otherwise my grandmother will surely blame me for poor hospitality."

Liu Yanshuang thought that was reasonable too; she stuck out her tongue and said nothing more.

Li Jiao stepped forward and said to the leading Lu Bao'er: "Lady Xie, you've come at just the right time! We're in the middle of the flower‑throwing game—would you like to join?"

"The flower‑throwing game?" Lu Bao'er murmured, noncommittal.

Grandmother anxiously squeezed a sweat for her, knowing that in the countryside they hold the belief "a woman without talent is virtue," and wondering how well Lu Bao'er usually reads and recognizes characters.

Lin Yudi, however, was terrified of this; she raised her hand to her forehead and said: "Oh dear, I suddenly have a headache—I'll go rest in the warm pavilion; sorry, everyone, Miss Li and Lady Xie, please enjoy yourselves! I'm spoiling the fun."

She found an excuse and slipped away, while Lu Bao'er stood there blankly.

Li Jiao thought to herself: "She's just a country girl; who knows if she's read any books? A woman like her dares to get a single steady word from the Su family? I don't know if she can bear it!"

Li Jiao's tone carried a hint of provocation as she continued: "If Lady Xie usually reads little and knows little of poetry, she may also opt out of the flower‑throwing game."

Her words sounded polite but were actually blunt. Which noble lady's daughter does not study and recognize characters? Only those rural girls regard their husbands as heaven, thinking that after marriage they will merely serve their looks, bearing children for their husbands.

In the future, when they marry, they are to become clan matriarchs—must the four arts of qin, chess, calligraphy, and painting each be mastered? Even becoming a female top scholar would not be out of the question. Without a bit of learning in their belly, they would be laughed at by their husband's family.

Upon hearing this, Liu Yanshuang covered her sleeve and let out a puff of laughter. The flower‑throwing game is not difficult; anyone can recite a few lines of poetry. In the game, a seven‑character poem is taken; the first responder must choose a poem whose first character is "flower," the second responder a poem whose second character is "flower," and so on.

She was about to say: "All right, all right, Lady Xie doesn't want to play—just stop asking."

But Lu Bao'er smiled and said: "Fine, I'll give it a try."

By responding so openly and generously, she made Liu Yanshuang and Li Jiao seem overly pushy. Don't be like a swollen face pretending to be fat—Li Jiao's expression was not pleased.

They re‑lined up and began the flower‑throwing game; those who failed had to drink sour plum juice. Lu Bao'er was the seventh player, Li Jiao the sixth. When Li Jiao answered with "All who go out are flower‑gazers," everyone's eyes turned to Lu Bao'er, waiting for her reply.

Liu Yanshuang chuckled inwardly: "She'll surely be unable to answer and will have to drink sour plum juice to her fill."

But Lu Bao'er took half a step forward, smiled slightly, and said: "No people in sight, only flowers."

Everyone was stunned; they had not expected her not only to answer but to quote a line from Han Yu (late Tang poet) to match Li Jiao's poetic sentiment about flowers. They had thought Lu Bao'er illiterate, yet she not only recognized characters but also faintly stood out.

Li Jiao was furious enough to have smoke rising from her seven orifices, yet she dared not speak more, appearing insufficiently refined as a lady of the boudoir.

Lu Bao'er also sensed something amiss; she said lightly: "This round is over; I won't play the next round. I've spoiled the fun for several young ladies, which is truly regrettable. I just have a headache, perhaps from the cold; I'd like to take my leave of Madame Gu and go first."

Grandmother helped her back to the Flower Hall, sent a maid to inform Madame Gu. The time was indeed late; it was proper to show some sense and head back home.

Regarding the earlier difficulties, Grandmother saw them, never expecting Lu Bao'er to resolve them so easily; she was both surprised and delighted, asking: "Madam, have you studied at home?"

Lu Bao'er pursed her lips and smiled: "My father is a degree‑holder; in the countryside he also ran a school."

"Indeed!" Fortunately, today's accidental mix‑up earned her a good reputation; otherwise, word would spread that the top‑scholar's lady is illiterate, a country bumpkin—something most unpleasant to hear.

Meanwhile, at the Xie residence.

Xie Junling saw that the night was dark, put down his book, lit a lamp, and headed toward the kitchen.

The kitchen servants saw Xie Junling lift his robe and step inside the doorway; they fell to their knees in fright, stammering: "Sir, why have you come? Is the food not to your taste?"

Seeing these people kneeling in terror, Xie Junling did not realize he himself was so intimidating. He remained calm and said: "Please rise; I merely came to cook a dish."

The cook was dumbstruck, stammering: "Sir, you personally cooking? This… this is against the rules."

Which official's lord is not waited on by others? And yet there is Xie Junling, who hurries over, rolls up his sleeves, and cooks himself?

"No problem." Xie Junling recalled the days when, after finishing his writing, he would go into the kitchen to help prepare food for Lu Bao'er; he smiled faintly and said: "Being of rural origin, I have no need for so many formalities—I have not forgotten my roots."

Having said that much, the cook and the assistants wanted to stop him but could not. Everyone wore a grim face, thinking they would surely be scolded by the steward Chen Shan later, and each one looked miserable.

Xie Junling pretended not to notice and asked lightly: "Is there any duck breast meat left?"

The cook had prepared a stewed duck frame for Xie Junling today; the broth was rich, the duck aroma pervasive. She also coated the duck legs and wings with fragrant oil, stuffed them into an iron pot, placed it in the stove to braise, then took it out; the duck meat was glazed with a shiny layer of oil, extremely fragrant, crisp, and delicious.

This is a rare northern delicacy; the cook is quite skilled and knows to prepare it as a token of respect for Xie Junling.

She had boiled the limbs and carcass of the mallard duck, indeed leaving the duck breast meat, intending to stir‑fry another dish tomorrow for Xie Junling to taste. From this it is clear that Xie Junling is certainly not one who avoids water with his ten fingers; just by looking at the dishes one can see what is still lacking.

The cook dared not be vague and hurriedly said: "Yes, sir, please wait a moment."

She took out the clay pot that had been chilled in snow, handed it to Xie Junling. Now it is winter; meat can be kept fresh with the snow one picks up outside, while buying ice is expensive, and even a single lump of charcoal for the manor is hard to come by.

Xie Junling tied a rope around his waist, which conveniently caught his hanging sleeves and fastened them at his waist. Thus his hands—those that write brilliant, flowery essays—were freed.

Xie Junling's finger bones were slender, long, and cold‑hard; he pinched the duck breast meat, cut swiftly and steadily, creating several flower‑shaped edges. With his other hand he took salt and sugar, added a bit of the cook's fermented broad‑bean paste, coated the duck breast evenly with the sauce, then poured in liquor and egg liquid.

At that moment, the black wok already had hot oil; Xie Junling tossed the duck meat in and fried it gently. In an instant, the aroma spread, making mouths water.

Seeing Xie Junling cook this way, the cook felt it a pity for those hands. She boldly asked: "Sir, are you planning to make some side dishes to go with drinks?"

Xie Junling lowered his eyelids, spoke lightly: "My lady enjoys pan‑fried duck meat; prepare a plate for her to go with rice."

Everyone had thought Xie Junling was merely fixing a tasty side dish for himself; little did they know he was cooking for Lu Bao'er. They stared at each other, unsure what to say.

If one speaks of favoritism, which official in the capital has ever treated his own wife this way? Normally, going out less for social engagements and spending more time with the principal wife is already good. Thus it is clear that Lu Bao'er truly has good fortune.

At this moment, the fortunate Lu Bao'er was helped back by Grandmother.