Chapter Fifty-Six: The Musician

When Jiang Li left the teahouse, she carried a banknote worth one hundred taels of silver.

Tong’er followed at her side, hesitating as if she wished to speak. Jiang Li noticed and said, “If you have something to say, just speak.”

“Miss, even if you lack silver, you could ask the Old Madam or the Master... Why ask Young Master Ye? Though he’s related by blood, he’s still an outsider. If word gets out...”

“He’s not one to gossip,” Jiang Li replied. “Besides, taking his hundred taels is to buy him peace of mind.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Cousin Ye suspects I helped him yesterday for ulterior motives. Though our conversation eased his doubts, old misunderstandings don’t fade so easily. It’s only natural he won’t trust me completely. Rather than let him worry, I’d rather treat this as a business transaction—he’ll feel more at ease. At least he won’t interact with me out of a sense of obligation.”

Tong’er nodded thoughtfully, then suddenly looked at Jiang Li. “Will you keep in contact with Young Master Ye in the future?”

“Of course,” Jiang Li replied. “You’ve seen it yourself—having or lacking support from one’s maternal family makes all the difference. Jiang Youyao acts with impunity, while I stand isolated in the Jiang household. Though the Ye family isn’t officialdom, they’re not weaker than the Ji family. Everything in this world requires money, and the Ye family is far from lacking. Their status may not be high yet, but Ye Shijie is preparing for government service. From his words and talents, he’s no mediocre man. If he succeeds, he will bring prosperity to the Ye family.”

“You wish to mend ties with the Ye family,” Tong’er finally understood. “But why didn’t you mention it to Young Master Ye just now? Yesterday you helped him, and today, if you asked him to write home and speak for you, he wouldn’t refuse.”

Jiang Li smiled. “There’s no need. He’ll do it himself.”

Ye Shijie, still doubting her motives, would surely write to the Ye family in Xiangyang about what happened in the capital. Jiang Li wasn’t worried he’d hide anything, but the real obstacle was the words the young Miss Jiang had once spoken to the Ye family—they had left deep wounds. Anyone with pride wouldn’t easily forget.

Restoring old ties would not be easy.

Jiang Li sighed inwardly. At this point, she could only take things step by step. If relations with the Ye family returned to normal, she could visit Xiangyang under the pretext of seeing relatives.

Her father’s fate remained uncertain, Xue Zhao’s ashes had not yet been returned home—none of it was settled. Who had handled her father’s funeral affairs? Distant help couldn’t resolve urgent needs; she had to return to Xiangyang as soon as possible.

Lost in these thoughts, Jiang Li arrived at Mingyi Hall.

The ladies of Mingyi Hall, seeing Jiang Li and her maid arrive, continued their discussions without restraint. Jiang Li caught snatches of conversation, mostly about yesterday’s incident when she publicly embarrassed Liu Zimin. Such scenes were rare among noblewomen in the capital. Most approved, some remained puzzled. In their eyes, Jiang Li’s actions were rebellious, shocking, and they looked at her as if she were an outsider—consciously or unconsciously isolating her.

Jiang Li paid no mind and took her seat. Today, however, Liu Xu was acting unusually; she even greeted Jiang Li proactively.

It was a novelty. Jiang Li understood that Liu Xu’s kindness was due to Lady Liu’s instructions; as for her own feelings, Liu Xu likely didn’t care much for her. Yet today, Liu Xu went so far as to approach her, her smile genuine.

After some hesitation, Liu Xu said, “I saw what happened yesterday at the Imperial Academy gates between you and Liu Zimin.”

“Oh?” Jiang Li smiled. “I was a bit out of line.” When in Rome, do as the Romans do; since the noblewomen here considered righteous speech improper, she didn’t insist on being different.

“No, no, no,” Liu Xu repeated, then looked at Jiang Li earnestly. “Liu Zimin’s conduct was shameful—extortion and deceit in broad daylight. With so many watching, only you dared speak the truth without fear. I admire you.”

Jiang Li was a little surprised.

“I used to believe the rumors about you and wasn’t friendly. Now I see I was wrong, nearly misjudging a good person. Yesterday, you stood up for a stranger, far better than those who merely watched. I owe you an apology for my past behavior. From now on, I won’t act that way again.”

Jiang Li smiled and said, “You’ve always treated me kindly.” Liu Xu, Lady Liu’s daughter, was generous and self-reflective—a truly good girl. Everyone liked her; Jiang Li liked her too.

Seeing Jiang Li’s carefree smile, Liu Xu blushed slightly. She said, “Yesterday, when you debated Liu Zimin, you seemed quite knowledgeable about distinguishing genuine from fake paintings. Could you teach me?”

Jiang Li was momentarily stunned, then replied, “It’s not difficult. I’ll teach you.”

When Xue Huaiyuan served as county magistrate in Tongxiang, someone once brought a case to the yamen—a shop selling supposed masterpieces was accused of dealing in counterfeits. The fakes were far more sophisticated than Liu Zimin’s, nearly indistinguishable from the real thing. Neither side would yield, so someone invited a famous master, who happened to be traveling through Tongxiang, to judge.

Jiang Li was young and mischievous then, hiding among Xue Huaiyuan’s entourage to see the excitement. When she was discovered, Xue Huaiyuan apologized, but Jiang Li found it amusing. The master, charmed by her innocence, taught her some principles of discerning authenticity.

A good teacher produces gifted students. Jiang Li was half a disciple of that master; though her skills weren’t extraordinary, they weren’t poor either. Yesterday, Liu Zimin’s forgery was mediocre, and Jiang Li, well acquainted with his character, needed only a few words to expose him.

As she discussed the finer points of appraising ancient paintings with Liu Xu, a teacher entered.

Jiang Li looked up to see a slender woman in a pale lavender gown with wide sleeves and a narrow waist. Her features were delicate and gentle, and the maid behind her carried a long zither—this was the music teacher, specializing in the six arts.

Compared to Ji Luo, this teacher seemed much kinder, radiating gentleness.

Jiang Li smiled to herself. This woman was once her “friend”—the foremost female musician in the capital, Xiao Deyin.