Dinner was served at Rong Pavilion. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what the appropriate term for such a place was—a dining room? A parlor? A family gathering hall? Regardless, this grand hall situated in the back garden was decorated with elegant comfort. It was cozy enough that the mere mention of "Rong Pavilion" naturally evoked a sense of melting warmth.
The carved wooden windows were thrown open, revealing the sprawling gardens where large, fuzzy, bright red flowers bloomed in profusion. Numerous lanterns had been hung throughout the courtyard, their lights flickering to life one by one in the thin twilight.
Before me sat a large round table laden with wine and delicacies. They smelled divine, though they were all dishes I had never seen before.
To my left sat Wuchao’s father, Ji Wenze. To my right were her little brother, Minyan, and her mother, Mei Qing. To the left of the Master sat Ji Minzhi, Wuxiu, and Lady Zhang. Most surprising of all was that Baofu and Fu Sao were also at the table. Master Ji was truly no ordinary man; he treated his steward like family. No wonder these two martial arts experts were so utterly devoted to a scholar who looked like he couldn't even lift a chicken.
I turned to look at Master Ji; he wore an expression of pure indulgence as he served food to his children. Lady Zhang was chatting and laughing with Fu Sao. Wuchao’s mother sat with her head lowered, using a handkerchief to wipe the drool from her son’s chin. The scene inexplicably reminded me of an old commercial I’d seen once, where a kind-faced old man said with a smile: "Happiness is a family gathered together for a reunion dinner."
My nose prickled, and my eyes grew hot.
This sudden surge of emotion completely extinguished any thought of telling the truth. Looking at this harmonious family, I couldn't bring myself to say the words: "Actually, Wuchao is dead." Furthermore, I had to admit I harbored a tiny, hidden selfishness.
I, Xi Xia, had never experienced a meal like this with a large family. From childhood until I grew up, even during the Lunar New Year, it was always just me and my father huddled around the television, listening to the firecrackers outside. I never understood why we didn't have a single relative. My father never brought it up, and I never dared to ask. Sometimes I secretly wondered: had my parents eloped and cut ties with both families?
"Tired from the journey?" Master Ji’s voice sounded above me. I looked up, staring blankly into his eyes, which were filled with fatherly love. For a fleeting moment, a sense of familiarity washed over me.
A wild thought struck me: Could he actually be my real father? Had he somehow been brought to this world as well?
"Good sheep yield good wool, good wool spins good thread..." Before I could even decide whether to test him, the words tumbled out of my mouth without passing through my brain. Since the words were out, I could only stare at his face with bated breath, waiting for an answer I couldn't predict.
Back when we used to watch TV, my father—who usually lacked a sense of humor—had once added two lines to that famous wool commercial: "...good thread knits a good sweater, a good sweater sells for a good price." It was a joke known only to the two of us.
The corners of Master Ji’s mouth twitched in bewilderment, and then he smiled, resting a warm palm on my forehead. "Is that another folk rhyme Minzhi taught you?"
My heart sank slightly.
Though I hadn't truly allowed myself much hope, a trace of disappointment still rippled through my heart. Perhaps it was for the best. My father had been a history researcher; my name, "Xi Xia," was proof enough of that. He was a stiff, bookish man who only knew how to study and lacked any talent for social maneuvering. If he had truly come to this world, he might not have fared so well. I couldn't help but sigh. As Confucius said: "Since you are here, make yourself at home."
I looked up just in time to see Minzhi making a face at me. He was likely reacting to Master Ji’s comment about him teaching me rhymes.
"Our family is finally whole again," Master Ji said, raising his wine cup. His handsome eyes sparkled in the candlelight. "I have already offered incense at the ancestral hall to thank our ancestors for protecting the Ji lineage." With that, he drained his cup. Seeing everyone else raise their glasses, I followed suit and downed the red liquid in mine.
It was tart and sweet, with a faint hint of alcohol. Master Ji actually allowed his children to drink openly?
"This cup is to thank the soul of the girl Xiao Huan," Master Ji said, his expression turning solemn as he raised a second glass. "If not for Xiao Huan, Wuchao might have... I have already sent men to retrieve her remains. She shall be buried in the Ji family cemetery as one of our own."
The whole family drained another glass together.
"This cup is to thank Brother Baofu and Sister Fu. If not for the two of you, Wuchao would still be wandering the wilderness..." Master Ji’s voice trailed off. He tilted his head back and finished the wine.
Baofu and Fu Sao hurriedly finished theirs as well.
Master Ji gently patted the top of my head and said softly, "Chao’er, pour a toast for your Uncle Bao and Auntie Fu."
A maid stepped forward to fill my cup. I stood up carefully, racking my brain for a proper toast, when Fu Sao suddenly burst out laughing. "The Third Miss truly has the Master's spirit from his younger days. Not only did she get along famously with that hunter's family, but she even picked up two children on the road."
"Oh?" Master Ji murmured, looking at me with a smile. I avoided his gaze and stammered, "Da Hei and Xiao Hei aren't little anymore. If they kept drifting, they really would have turned into hoodlums."
Master Ji’s eyes were full of laughter, and I felt an inexplicable familiarity in them—a look I felt only my father used to have.
Baofu chuckled. "A tiger father does not beget a dog of a son. Come, drink!"
And so, I downed another glass.
This was the first time I had ever drunk alcohol in this world, and I was doing it openly with the permission of my elders. I comforted myself in my hazy state: just for his uniquely open-minded way of treating his children; just for his lack of narrow-minded class consciousness in treating Baofu’s family as his own; just for that familiar look in his eyes that reminded me of my father... calling this man "Dad" didn't seem like such a hardship.
I thought about it further and told myself: if I really can't accept it in my heart, I'll just treat him as an adoptive father.
Later, I think I had another glass, and then another...
The last clear image remaining in my memory of that night was Minzhi with his arms around Father’s neck, Father holding Minyan with one arm while Minyan clung to Wuxiu, and me—I was clutching his other arm, crying hysterically and calling him "Dad" over and over again.
Did I cry enough? Did I fall asleep?
I had no memory of what happened after that. I only vaguely recalled someone whispering in my ear: "This child must have suffered so much..."
***
Xiao Hei’s fist whistled past my eyes. This kid had certainly gained some strength after a few square meals.
I dodged slightly to the side, grabbed his wrist, and used his momentum to pin it behind his back. Then, I delivered a flying kick that sent Da Hei, who was trying to ambush me from behind, tumbling away.
"Alright, alright!" Xiao Hei cried out with a grimace. "I give up, I give up! Have mercy, Great Heroine!"
Actually, I was starting to lose my grip on him. No matter how much practical combat experience I had, Wuchao’s body was still that of a child with limited strength.
Da Hei scrambled up from the ground, rubbing his backside and wincing.
We were in my courtyard. Ying Xue sat under the eaves, smiling as she brewed tea for us. The afternoon sun shone warmly on the three "mud monkeys," and Da Hei was the first to laugh.
"In another two years, I really won't be able to beat you."
I shot him a disdainful look. "You can't beat me right now!"
Da Hei didn't take offense; he just kept grinning.
Because they were young, he and Xiao Hei attended lessons with the other Ji children every morning. In the afternoons, while Wuxiu did needlework, I hid in my courtyard and used the two of them as sparring partners.
Whatever happened, I couldn't let my skills—or more accurately, my grappling techniques—go to waste. Perhaps due to my old professional habits, I remained in a state of extreme insecurity. Despite the change in scenery, I needed enough ability to protect myself in this strange world.
Life in the Ji estate was certainly more comfortable than at Hu-zi’s house, and definitely more comfortable than my time as a police officer. At least I didn't have to cook or wash my own clothes. My only duty was to practice calligraphy and read with the other children every morning. Occasionally, the faint scent of ink would make me feel as though I had returned to my childhood: my father sitting behind his desk reading while I sat obediently across from him practicing my characters. He always said my writing was poor, except for one time when he held up a copy I’d made of Zhao Lingshi’s *Huan Xi Sha* and sighed, "This Liu-style script truly has a bit of your grandmother’s grace."
I suspect his greatest regret was following a neighbor's advice to send me to judo classes. From that moment on, I had completely diverged from the image of the refined lady he had hoped for. Especially after his passing, I hadn't touched a brush in years.
I had never seen Wuchao’s original handwriting. Perhaps because a child’s handwriting is constantly changing, the difference didn't raise any suspicions among the Ji family. Master Ji had even praised me at the dinner table once: "Chao’er’s writing is becoming more and more refined."
*Thwack!* A small pebble hit my shoulder.
I glared at the culprit sitting leisurely atop the wall, who responded by making a face at me.
"Are you a monkey?" I rolled my eyes at him. "Climbing walls every single day."
The culprit, Ji Minzhi, blinked and asked, "What’s a monkey?"
I rolled my eyes again. In front of others, Ji Minzhi always maintained the air of a mature, dignified young master, but in private, he was the biggest troublemaker of them all. However, his appearance here today was strange.
"Aren't you supposed to be at Fragrant Hill Academy with the young master from the Left Chancellor’s estate?" I asked curiously. According to Wuxiu, the bored young lords of Zhongjing loved to go there to put on airs of sophistication. Of course, her exact words were "to exchange scholarly insights."
Ji Minzhi made a bored face and hopped nimbly down from the wall. He looked me up and down with wide eyes. "Not bad. I haven't seen you in a few months, and your moves seem even sharper than before..."
I shook my fist at him. "Want to try?"
Minzhi shook his head. His large eyes, so like our father's, twinkled with mischief. He whispered, "There’s some excitement happening. Want to go see?"
My spirits instantly lifted. Da Hei and Xiao Hei leaned in, their eyes shining.
Minzhi cleared his throat and straightened his back, putting on the air of an elder brother. He pointed at the dirt on my clothes from the sparring. "Go wash your face and change into clean clothes."
Da Hei and Xiao Hei looked at each other, confused. "What for?"
Minzhi huffed. "You lot are filthy. If you follow me onto the streets like that, where would my dignity go?"
The streets? We truly hadn't been out on the town yet.
And so, quite ungracefully, I joined the other kids in a few cheers before we scattered to find our washbasins.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 融轩 | Rong Pavilion | The Ji family's gathering/dining hall; "Rong" implies harmony or melting. |
| 记文则 | Ji Wenze | Wuchao's father. |
| 梅清 | Mei Qing | Wuchao's biological mother (the concubine). |
| 记敏之 | Ji Minzhi | Wuchao's elder brother. |
| 记舞秀 | Ji Wuxiu | Wuchao's second sister. |
| 记敏言 | Ji Minyan | Wuchao's younger brother. |
| 恒源祥 | Hengyuanxiang | A famous Chinese wool/textile brand known for its repetitive commercials. |
| 柳楷 | Liu-style script | A style of Chinese calligraphy established by Liu Gongquan. |
| 浣溪沙 | Huan Xi Sha | A famous Ci poetry form (literally "Silk-Washing Stream"). |
| 赵令峙 | Zhao Lingshi | A Song Dynasty poet/scholar. |
| 香山书院 | Fragrant Hill Academy | A local school or academy in the capital. |
| 左丞相 | Left Chancellor | A high-ranking government official title. |
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