Chapter Five: The Peddler

Several more days passed in succession.

Jiang Li soon grew accustomed to the austere life atop the mountain. Though each day brought endless chores, meals were never satisfying, her sleeping quarters damp, and she was often bullied, Jiang Li adapted swiftly.

Perhaps it was her quiet and obedient demeanor during these days that prompted the abbess, Jing’an, to visit her for the first time—a most unusual gesture. Jing’an was a young woman of about twenty, rumored to have once been the lady of a large household; after her husband’s death, she retired to the mountains and took the veil.

Not long ago, Jiang Li had caused a stir over the Marquis of Ningyuan’s son’s marriage, insisting she return to the capital. She had nearly come to blows with Jing’an.

Jing’an came, glanced at Jiang Li, offered some polite words of concern, then left without giving anything.

Tong’er, hands on hips, spat after Jing’an’s departing figure, muttering, “Tch, stingy old woman!”

Jiang Li chuckled and said, “She’s much younger than ‘old woman’ implies.”

Indeed, Jing’an was barely twenty. Even clad in her dull gray robes, her graceful figure could not be concealed, and her features were delicate and clear. Yet her attitude toward Jiang Li and Tong’er was lofty and cold, as if they were truly servants.

“What’s the use of youth?” Tong’er pouted. “She’s already a nun here—spending her life with candles and Buddha, can she eat meat or wear pretty clothes?”

“I don’t know if she eats meat, but surely she eats better than we do. As for her clothes, her robes must be thicker than ours,” Jiang Li replied.

“How unfair!” Tong’er huffed.

“Not only that,” Jiang Li continued, “though she wears no jewelry, she uses powder from Apricot Spring Workshop in the capital, scented balm from Red Sleeve Pavilion, and osmanthus hair oil from Fragrant Elegance Studio.”

Tong’er’s jaw dropped, and after a moment she said, “Isn’t that a bit extravagant? Wait,” she fixed her bright eyes on Jiang Li, “how does Miss know all that?”

Jiang Li pointed to her nose. “I can smell it.”

“I know Miss can smell it, but how do you know exactly which powder, which balm, which oil?”

Jiang Li thought to herself—of course she knew. When she first married Shen Yurong and arrived in the capital, the Shen family despised her as a girl from the small county of Tongxiang; her sisters-in-law and even Shen Yurong’s mother looked down on her. Afraid she’d shame Shen Yurong, she diligently studied the fashions and accessories of the capital’s ladies, correcting her accent bit by bit.

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She had always learned quickly; Xue Huaiyuan once said that if she were not a girl, she might have joined Xue Zhao in winning fame and honor for the family.

These powders, balms, and oils—though Miss Jiang had not left the mountain in seven years, she could distinguish them precisely.

Jiang Li said, “Naturally, I can tell by the scent.”

Tong’er considered this and found a logical explanation. “Miss must know—these things, Miss used them every day back when she was with the Jiang family; how could she not be familiar?” As she spoke, her tone grew sorrowful. “Come to think of it, Miss has been away from the Jiang family for so long...”

“Tonger, do you want to return to the capital?” Jiang Li interrupted.

Tong’er’s eyes widened; she shook her head vigorously and said firmly, “No! Tong’er only wants to stay with Miss—wherever Miss goes, Tong’er will follow!”

Jiang Li smiled. “No matter—we’ll be going back soon.”

Tong’er was about to say more when suddenly a clear, cheerful shout rang from outside—a man’s laughing voice, almost like a tune. Tong’er perked up, listened, then jumped up with delight, “Miss, it’s Zhang the peddler! Zhang the peddler’s come with his wares this year!”

Jiang Li looked out the window, smiling. “Then gather all our coins—we’ll buy some pastries.”

“All of them?” Tong’er turned, surprised.

“All of them.”

Tong’er rummaged through the room, bundled all their copper coins in a blue cloth, and hugged it to her chest as she and Jiang Li walked out toward the temple entrance.

The mountain here was high; the nearby Crane Forest Temple was always bustling, visited by the wealthy and noble who seldom bothered with a peddler’s wares. Most peddlers found little profit here and rarely came. Zhang the peddler lived at the foot of Mount Qingcheng. He only came up once a year, between May and June, when the peach blossoms covered the mountain and ordinary folk came to admire the flowers alongside the rich. With crowds about, he brought his powders, trinkets, and pastries to sell.

Tong’er was familiar with Zhang and had arranged to meet him every year on the tenth of May to buy things. The nunnery was far less lively than the Crane Forest Temple; for Jiang Li and Tong’er, this was the only time they could buy snacks from a peddler—a yearly luxury.

At the temple gate stood a middle-aged man wearing a bamboo hat, dressed in coarse hemp clothes and trousers, a white silk sash at his waist, black cloth shoes—the very picture of a peddler.

Jiang Li gazed at him, lost in thought.

Before marrying Shen Yurong and moving to the capital, back when she was just a girl and Xue Huaiyuan had been posted to the impoverished Tongxiang, the county had almost nothing; its shops could be counted on two hands.

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Xue Zhao and Jiang Li, living in such harsh conditions at a young age, found their only joy in the monthly visits of the peddler. From him, they bought curious clay figurines, bright silk ribbons, sweet malt candy, and rough brushes for practicing calligraphy.

Though life was hard, it was happy. Later, under Xue Huaiyuan’s governance, Tongxiang flourished; Xue Zhao began preparing for the military exams; Jiang Li married into the capital; then... there was no ‘then.’

Jiang Li lowered her gaze.

Zhang the peddler was familiar with them and told Tong’er she had grown taller, which delighted her. She turned to Jiang Li, “Miss, do you want those pastries?”

Jiang Li finally looked at Zhang, smiled at him, making him pause and feel inexplicably uneasy.

Jiang Li took the cloth bundle from Tong’er, untied it, revealing neatly strung coins. They had collected these over the past half year by sewing shoe pads, plus those saved from previous years, stashed away from Jing’an’s notice—forty strings in all.

“Uncle Zhang,” Jiang Li smiled, “please exchange all these coins for pastries—any kind will do.”

Tong’er’s eyes widened. “Miss!”

Though she held all their savings, Tong’er never expected Jiang Li would spend it all. The nuns often withheld their rice and firewood; sometimes, leftover coins could be exchanged with mountain children for food or blankets. Pastries and snacks wouldn’t last long—they’d spoil quickly. How could this be?

“What’s wrong?” Jiang Li kept smiling. “A chief minister’s daughter can’t buy pastries with a few coins? What kind of young lady would that be?”

Tong’er was left speechless.

——— Aside ———

Big Pear: Even without money, one must be willful [smile]