Chapter 18: Adults Do Not Make Choices

Master Jingjie had a fondness for fine food, and his appetite was remarkably large.

By the end of the meal, he and Chu Mao had finished all the chicken on the table. Once they had polished it off, they pestered Gu Dao for the recipe.

"Sir, what use is this recipe to you? Do you even have any chickens at home to cook?" Dong Li, the young attendant by his side, asked with an eye-roll.

"That is where you are mistaken. Even if I have no chicken to eat, reading the recipe is enough to satisfy my cravings," Master Jingjie replied with a chuckle as he watched Gu Dao write it down.

"Sir, I have always thought your door was difficult to enter. Since you dislike that Mei Zisu, why did you let him in?" Gu Dao asked.

"In my youth, while traveling through the south, I became fast friends with his master, Shi Xiangxia. He is merely a messenger, though he seems to have forgotten his place," Master Jingjie said, shaking his head while toying with an ebony hairpin.

Past midday, the sky began to turn overcast. Master Jingjie, fully fed and satisfied, went off to sleep, showing no concern at all for whether there were guests in the house. Gu Dao played a few games of Gomoku with Dong Li before taking his leave.

As soon as Mei Zisu descended from Mount Zhonghan, he was picked up by a carriage.

"Sir, how did things go?" a middle-aged, stout man asked respectfully from inside the carriage.

Mei Zisu smoothed his robes, and only after he had composed his posture did he speak. "Master Jingjie has agreed. However, the manuscript was swindled away by a shameless scoundrel under the guise of publishing it. It will require some maneuvering to get it back." Mei Zisu spoke with disdain.

"Haha, publishing? In this world, who could possibly compare to my Jiangnan Publishing House?" the stout man sneered.

"The fellow's name is Gu Dao—a base, low-born sort, yet he has managed to wheedle his way into Master Jingjie’s favor. It would have been unsightly for me to force the issue in front of him," Mei Zisu said.

The stout man’s pig-like eyes darted around as he probed, "Sir, since the objective has been reached, why must we go to the trouble of publishing the book?"

Mei Zisu cast a cold, haughty glance at him, his lips curling in contempt. The stout man immediately panicked, bowing his head and fawning. "Sir, forgive me! A fool like me only knows how to look at immediate gains. I shall do whatever you say."

Satisfied with this display of humility, Mei Zisu continued, "Printing the book for Master Jingjie is the threshold. The higher the threshold for the young master’s apprenticeship, the greater the prestige will be. Most importantly, it binds Master Jingjie to the young master, preventing him from easily changing his mind."

The stout man nodded repeatedly, looking thoroughly instructed, which pleased Mei Zisu greatly. If that base wretch Gu Dao were only as humble and willing to hand over his chess manual with both hands, that would be ideal.

"Investigate Gu Dao. Find a way to get that manuscript back," Mei Zisu commanded.

"Sir, do not be impatient. I have heard of this Gu Dao, and recently there has been some interesting news. If nothing goes awry, he will soon be ruined," the stout man said.

"Oh? Tell me more. If possible, we shall add some fuel to the fire," Mei Zisu said, struggling to conceal his malice.

When Gu Dao returned to Yancui Residence, he found a crowd gathered at the gate. After questioning Chu Mao, he learned they were all there to beg for his calligraphy. Chu Mao was ecstatic, his long face practically beaming with joy. Especially after hearing the price of ten taels per character, he felt as if he were walking on air. At this rate, Gu Dao could get rich just by writing at home. However, Gu Dao instructed Chu Mao to politely turn them all away.

"Xiuzhi, why? A few strokes of your pen and you’d have money in hand!" Chu Mao could not understand.

"Brother, look at who those people are—restaurant owners, silk merchants, oil shop keepers, funeral supply sellers... I even saw a madam from a brothel!"

"If I were to write plaques for them and they hung them up, what would that make me?"

Gu Dao finished, yet Chu Mao still did not grasp the point. It was all money, wasn't it? If someone paid for the calligraphy, why couldn't it be hung as a plaque?

The wet nurse, having overheard, immediately tugged on Chu Mao’s ear to scold him: "You blockhead! Can't you see? If he did that, Brother Dao would be nothing more than a cheap peddler who sells himself for money. His reputation would be ruined."

Gu Dao gave the wet nurse a thumbs-up and began to praise her: "They say an elder in the house is like a treasure. You truly have a discerning eye, Nanny." The wet nurse beamed with pride.

Gu Dao frowned, however, and asked, "Nanny, have all the people coming lately been merchants?"

The wet nurse hadn't paid much attention, so she summoned the gatekeeper to ask. The gatekeeper was an old man with sparse white hair and a neck crooked toward his shoulder; he shuffled slowly toward the three of them.

"Old Guan, what are you doing here? Where is your grandson?" The wet nurse looked at the old man with a mixture of wariness and resignation.

"Don't know where he ran off to. Ask me whatever you want," the old man said, his neck still crooked.

"Old sir, have the people coming to our gate lately all been merchants? Has anyone else come by?" Gu Dao asked politely.

The old man curled his lip, revealing a mouth of yellow teeth. He said with a look of genuine gratification, "The young master is truly a descendant of a military family; you’ve realized so quickly that we’ve been surrounded."

"Surrounded? Who is surrounding us? Why didn't I notice? Wait until I get my weapons!" Chu Mao exploded upon hearing this, rising to find his armor and weapons, only to be brought back to earth by a kick to the backside from the wet nurse.

The wet nurse’s eyes were sharp as blades, fixed on the gatekeeper with a warning that suggested she was ready to pounce and tear him apart at the slightest provocation. Were these two enemies?

The thought flashed through Gu Dao’s mind before he refocused on the matter at hand. A cold, mocking smile played on his lips: "These merchants swarm us, shouting about high prices. How can anyone else come to the door? Who would want to be tainted by the stench of copper?"

"The silver is merely the bait they are using to lure us in."

Chu Mao finally understood. Beyond his anger, he felt a twinge of regret and couldn't help but mutter, "Young Master, is there a way to eat the bait without taking the hook? The money in our coffers is running low, and we are spending it like water."

Gu Dao was well aware of this. Starting from scratch was difficult enough, and his endeavor was massive. The lead movable type was built entirely on money. Lead, tin, and solder weren't expensive, but the sheer volume needed for experimentation had been enormous. Add to that the high wages for skilled goldsmiths and silversmiths, the storage of high-quality paper, and the special ink required—every expense was heavy. Gu Dao’s funds were already more than half gone.

Maintaining these craftsmen and their daily needs was not cheap, either. Fortunately, Yancui Residence had ample supplies to last for a while. Furthermore, the wet nurse refused to let her young master suffer; everything was kept according to his station. Just two spare sable cloaks had cost three hundred taels. The young master of the Gu family couldn't always wear the same set of clothes, and although the second aunt had sent some items, the wet nurse had still prepared quite a bit.

As for Chu Mao’s idea, the gatekeeper Old Guan scoffed: "You want to have your cake and eat it too? If you went to the battlefield like that, you’d just be fodder for the enemy."

The moment the word "battlefield" was uttered, the wet nurse grew agitated. She actually flew forward and kicked the old gatekeeper over. Gu Dao was startled; he had never seen the wet nurse so fierce or so unconcerned with her image.

"I’ll let you have a loose tongue! See if I don't tear your mouth off!" The wet nurse wasn't just making threats; she was actually going for his mouth.

Gu Dao and Chu Mao hurriedly pulled her away, but the gatekeeper’s face was already covered in scratches.

"You old wretch, if you dare talk nonsense again, I’ll tear you apart!" the wet nurse roared, still fuming. Old Guan, acting as if he were in the wrong, covered the scratches on his face and gasped, not daring to make a sound.

Once they were separated, Gu Dao spoke up. "A household of this size cannot have only outgoings and no income. We can still sell the calligraphy."

The wet nurse’s face turned cold, and her tone became severe: "Brother Dao, you must not play around. Even if we starve to death, we must never tarnish our reputation. If your mother knew in the afterlife, she would come to knock on my bed in the middle of the night."

Gu Dao soothed the wet nurse, telling her not to worry. "Nanny, don't worry. I certainly won't go out and sell the calligraphy myself. But if the servants in the house were to steal a few pages of my practice work and sell them behind my back, how would I know?" Gu Dao said with a smile.

Chu Mao and the wet nurse’s eyes lit up. This was a brilliant idea.

"Good! A perfect 'crossing the sea in secret' and 'using the enemy's own grain,'" the gatekeeper Old Guan exclaimed happily. With that, he ran off with his crooked neck, and the wet nurse chased after him.

Back in the study, Gu Dao pulled Chu Mao aside and asked, "What was wrong with Nanny today? Why was she so unkind to the old man at the gate?"

Chu Mao checked to make sure no one was behind them before saying, "Xiuzhi, you don't know. Now that Yancui Residence is slowly getting back on its feet, my mother has brought back many of the Lady’s old household slaves."

"That sounds good, doesn't it? They are my mother's people; their loyalty shouldn't be a problem," Gu Dao said, puzzled.

Chu Mao’s long face twisted, and he sighed: "But Young Master, those slaves all come from the Xu family. Now that the Xu family has no successors, these people want to incite you to join the army, gain merit, and restore the Xu family’s former glory."

"My mother will have none of it. She just wants you to study hard, become a civil official, and earn honors for your family. That is why the two sides are always at odds."

Once Chu Mao finished, Gu Dao understood. No wonder the old gatekeeper only spoke of war and was so delighted to see his strategy involve military tactics. Gu Dao smiled faintly; his path would not be dictated by others. He then returned his thoughts to the matter at hand.

If his calligraphy was so valuable, he would be a fool not to sell it. He practiced for an hour every day anyway. Why waste the paper when he could trade it for money? Pens, ink, paper, and inkstones were all costs. Gu Dao was a pragmatic man who refused to make binary choices. He wanted his reputation, but he wouldn't turn his back on practical benefits.

Chu Mao soon discovered that the servants had already begun doing exactly that. Ever since Master Jingjie had praised Gu Dao’s work, clever servants had been bribed to smuggle waste paper out of the study. This had made Chu Mao so angry he nearly beat the servants to death—why hadn't they shared this money-making path sooner? From that day on, whenever Gu Dao practiced calligraphy, Chu Mao served as his bodyguard. Not a single page left the room without his consent.

In the Plum Garden of the old Gu family mansion, Mei Sheng held a hand warmer and draped a snow-white cloak over her shoulders as she strolled through the garden. Her dark hair was like fine silk, and her face was as smooth and fair as porcelain. Her expression was alluring yet serene, and she stared blankly at the overcast sky.

"Auntie!" A matron interrupted her thoughts.

A flicker of annoyance passed over her face, but she quickly replaced it with a gentle smile and gestured for the matron to continue.

"Auntie, someone has found that scholar," the matron whispered.

The scholar the matron referred to was the killing blow she had prepared for Gu Dao. The story was already fabricated, and the rumors had been spread. It was all brewing, waiting for the right moment to strike; Gu Dao would inevitably fall into ruin. But now, someone had found him?

Mei Sheng’s eyes grew cold as she pressed, "Was it discovered by Gu Dao?"

The matron, knowing her temper, felt a chill at the tone of her voice and hurriedly replied: "Returning to you, Auntie, it was not Gu Dao—it was someone from the Third Prince."

Mei Sheng’s brow relaxed, and a smile like rippling spring water appeared on her lips. "Someone from the Third Prince? That means someone from the Princess Royal, then? Is this fate, or merely a coincidence?"