Chapter 94: A Pretend Play

Both sides haggled over the price, and finally Xuanmiao conceded; the two parties agreed to collaborate on crafting this statue, and if more than ten kiln failures occurred, she would pay an additional twenty taels—this was the upper limit, but they would certainly fire the statue for her.

Xuanmiao paid a deposit and promised to deliver the new statue’s blueprints within three days.

She called Wang Xiaojing forward and said to Yu Qing and Yu Sheng: “This child will stay with you to run errands; if any issues arise, send him back to ask me—he can also be sent out for chores as needed.”

Wang Xiaojing immediately stood at attention and bowed to them.

Yu Qing and Yu Sheng did not suspect anything; they assumed Xuanmiao was merely uneasy.

After all, this was a hundred-tael order—if it were them, they wouldn’t trust it either.

The two accepted Wang Xiaojing.

Yu Qing’s home was spacious, so he led Wang Xiaojing back there.

Wang Xiaojing never expected to settle in so quickly; he felt both excited and nervous, glancing at Xuanmiao and the others.

Xuanmiao pulled him aside and warned: “I promised your grandfather, but whether you stay here depends on you—be sharp and diligent; no normal person can refuse someone clever and hardworking. If someone rejects you, they’re abnormal—stay away from such people.”

Wang Xiaojing listened, dazed.

Seeing his blank expression, Xuanmiao frowned. “Did you understand?”

Wang Xiaojing nodded quickly. “I understand, I understand. Thank you, Master Xuanmiao—I’ll work hard.”

“Work hard, but don’t let yourself be mistreated. You know the way home, right?” Xuanmiao said. “If you’re treated unfairly, go home. Yushan County has more than just this kiln—there are two others. If they won’t keep you, someone else will.”

Wang Xiaojing’s confidence rose, his courage strengthened slightly, and he nodded firmly in agreement.

Xuanmiao gave him ten cash coins.

Wang Xiaojing refused, pushing them back.

Xuanmiao said: “Take them. I’ll go collect them from your grandfather when I return—they’re not a gift.”

Hearing this, Wang Xiaojing immediately accepted them.

Pan Yun and the others also felt sorry for the boy, left alone at such a young age, so they began searching their pockets for money.

Pan Yun had little left, so she gave him ten cash coins and a protective talisman.

Miaohé and Miaozhen also gave him ten cash coins each.

Wang Xiaojing grinned foolishly. “I came to learn a craft, and before I even started, I’m already earning money.”

Miaohé said: “It’s not a gift. When you earn money later, you’ll repay us.”

Wang Xiaojing tried to repay her immediately, but Miaozhen stopped him. “Poor at home, rich on the road—keep it. If you’re mistreated, having money is better than having none.”

Wang Xiaojing accepted the money and whispered: “Thank you.”

Pan Yun warned: “My protective talisman isn’t given lightly—you must wear it every day. It’s a gift from your auntie, your Master’s Master.”

Hearing this, Miaohé changed her mind at once. “Then I won’t ask you to repay my ten cash coins either—it’s a greeting gift.”

Wang Xiaojing’s face darkened. “You really want to be my master?”

“Of course. Is that a problem?”

“No,” Wang Xiaojing shook his head. “When I learn my craft and return home, I’ll teach you too—then we’ll be mutual masters. I won’t recognize you as my master.”

Miaohé made a dismissive sound and turned away, annoyed.

After finalizing the remaining details with Xuanmiao, Yu Qing turned back to Wang Xiaojing.

Xuanmiao called him forward and handed him over to Yu Qing. “The blueprints will arrive tomorrow or the day after—I’ll bring you a few sets of clothes then. Do you need to bring anything else?”

Wang Xiaojing shook his head. “No. My parents already know what to pack for me.”

Miaohé and Miaozhen waved goodbye to Wang Xiaojing with reluctance; even as they boarded the cart, they worried: “I wonder if he’ll adjust.”

Xuanmiao said nothing.

After entering the city, Xuanmiao went shopping; afternoon goods were cheaper—if you knew how to haggle.

Xuanmiao admitted she wasn’t good at haggling, but her cold demeanor worked: after the seller quoted a price, she’d lower it, and if he agreed, she bought it; if he refused, she walked away—her haggling skill far surpassed Tao Ji’s.

Indeed, in any trade, it’s always about bullying the weak and fearing the strong.

Pan Yun didn’t join them; she carried the black cat to the Minxin Bureau to check for letters. “Any mail today?”

The Minxin clerk smiled. “Lucky timing—it just arrived. The courier hasn’t left yet, but you’ll have to wait while I sort through everything to see if yours is here.”

Pan Yun agreed.

The clerk untied the sack and dumped its contents: mostly letters sealed in oil-paper pouches, plus some small items.

He first searched the items, found nothing, then scattered the letters and began checking them one by one.

After much searching, he pulled out a thick envelope. “Little Daoist, is this yours?”

Pan Yun leaned forward, snatched it, and smiled. “It’s mine!”

She held the letter and said: “Your bureau delivers quickly, but mail here arrives only after the third hour—our Mount Sanqing is far away. If I urgently need to return home and can’t wait until then, won’t I have to wait until tomorrow—or longer—to get my letter?”

The clerk sighed. “Little Daoist, mail takes time. Couriers leave Guangxin Prefecture early; even at top speed, they arrive only by the third hour. These letters are sorted today and dispatched tomorrow. Besides, Mount Sanqing is distant—if we delivered directly, we’d have to climb the mountain. One letter costs a courier a full day’s labor.”

Pan Yun thought it over and decided not to press him.

Fine—she’d use them only for urgent matters; otherwise, she’d stick to the official relay stations and express posts.

Slower, but more convenient.

Pan Yun sat on the steps outside and opened the letter.

Three rolled sheets of paper fell out.

She unrolled the first half and found her father’s letter.

Pan Hong wrote that the formula she sent had been extremely effective—his second son’s health had greatly improved; he would never forget her lifesaving grace, and both sons wished to meet her.

In the Great Ming, sending mail via official relay stations required household registration proof; you didn’t need to show it every time, but if the station chief or express post officer didn’t recognize you, you had to present it.

To avoid complications and prevent the Embroidered Uniform Guard from investigating her, she’d used Tao Ji’s household registration for official express posts, signing only “Sanzhu” as the sender.

!. Read

Pan Hong writing this way clearly meant to leave no trace.

Pan Yun’s eyes darted; she decided to use Tao Ji’s identity to reply, encouraging them to befriend peers at the temple, then claim siblings—making future correspondence far easier.

Pan Hong had clearly thought of this too—he’d mentioned it in the letter, suggesting his sons study Daoist principles to temper their tempers.

Pan Yun read carefully; every word was good news. “I wonder if he’s only reporting good things and hiding the bad.”

She opened her brothers’ letters; the ink was smeared across a large portion—she didn’t even read the words. “This must be your second brother’s—probably crying while writing.”

But the handwriting was her eldest brother’s.

Pan Yun widened her eyes, thinking her second brother was too injured to hold a brush, and her father was hiding the truth, forcing her eldest brother to write for him…

“But that doesn’t make sense—how did her second brother’s tears land on the paper if her eldest brother wrote it?”

Pan Yun quickly unrolled the second letter; the ink was even more blurred. She relaxed—her second brother had written it himself, crying harder.

So everyone was fine—her eldest brother just cried more easily.

In truth, Pan Yue didn’t want to cry at all, but after secretly reading the letter and resealing it, he noticed the seal didn’t match perfectly—he wanted to find earlier letters as references to make the resealing flawless.

In searching, he uncovered letters from his uncle.

Reading them, they realized their father had hidden many things—he’d claimed Pan Yun had voluntarily left the family to join Mount Sanqing, but in truth, the Embroidered Uniform Guard had raided their home again, forcing Pan Yun to flee alone, her whereabouts unknown.

No one knew what hardships she’d endured to reach Mount Sanqing.

After reading their uncle’s letters, the brothers wept until their clothes were soaked; when Pan Hong returned, they were hugging and sobbing.

Pan Hong saw the opened letter, his face darkened; seeing his sons in tears, his face darkened further—but he couldn’t punish them, so he glared coldly. “Why are you crying? I haven’t even beaten you for opening my letter.”

Pan Yue, eyes red, asked: “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“What good would it do?” Pan Hong said. “It would only add two more people worrying—none of us could help her. Besides, you’re still young, especially Yu—loud and reckless. If you let slip even one word outside, our whole family would face even harsher punishment.”

Pan Yu protested: “I wouldn’t!”

“Really?” Pan Hong said coldly. “We’ll see. Whether you will or won’t isn’t decided by your words.”

Both Pan Yue and Pan Yu resented this, determined to prove themselves to their father.

Pan Hong read the letter again, murmuring: “She’s met someone with real ability.”

The moment her brothers were harmed, she’d sensed it—hence she’d immediately sent these items.

“So our letter should reach her in one or two days; her reply should arrive in a few more.”

Pan Yu’s condition had improved slightly these past days, but he still bled during bowel movements.

The physician visited daily, prescribing expensive medicine, yet offered no effective cure.

Worse, due to the injury, Pan Yu had grown weak, fatigued, and slightly feverish.

The physician warned: at this stage, he must be kept perfectly balanced—no cold, no heat; any additional illness would break him.

For these days, Pan Hong and Pan Yue had treated him like glass, yet still had no better treatment.

Now, he prayed Pan Yun might have a better solution.

Indeed, four days later, the Minxin Bureau delivered a box containing three prescriptions, each detailing its corresponding illness.

The father and sons wasted no time—they summoned the physician that same day.

The physician might not write a better prescription, but he could certainly judge which one was superior.

Quickly, he selected one; as he left, he muttered: “Why didn’t I think of this formula? Who is this divine physician? I must visit him…”

Today’s lucky numbers are all those ending in 9—screenshot as proof. I won’t write the next chapter.

(End of Chapter)