Chapter 2: Recognizing Eminence

The elders who had come from Lin’an all changed color at Shen Wen’s words. Even several of the aged rose to their feet, deference written across their faces.

Second Master Jiang seemed utterly stunned, staring over, looking again and again.

Jiang Man, seeing this, dared not look at her. She only glanced quietly toward a few young servants—who, at last, could be commanded—and had them carry her maid out, along with the boy at the door.

This woman’s skin was strangely pale, and she shared the Empress’s surname. Everyone from Lin’an seemed to know the name; she must be of the Shen Clan of Taizhou, of the Empress’s own blood. Only now, up close, could Jiang Man see that Shen Wen’s black robe carried a luster of its own—it was a gold-trimmed Beizi Jacket, the embroidered collar trim worked in intricate stitches; beneath the long gown, a banana-red Rotating Skirt of the finest plain silk.

Jiang Man wore heavy mourning and could not bear to look on such brilliance—besides, what woman announced her own name so brazenly? Jiang Man had never kept company with such reckless people, and with Shen Wen of such exalted standing, she was doubly careful, reining in even her gaze, not letting it linger on her.

Shen Wen brushed her shoulder. “What are you looking at?”

Second Master Jiang started as if from a dream, his manner turning respectful. “This official has given offense. I did not expect the honor of meeting Female Scribe Shen. This official is Jiang Feng—I lost my composure.”

“Just now I heard you say something about ‘orphaned of both parents,'” Shen Wen paid him no mind, taking the empty seat of honor and surveying the room. “I see you all in mourning clothes, white lanterns under the eaves—has someone in the Jiang family today lost both parents?”

“To answer Female Scribe Shen, this official’s third brother passed away some days ago. He was buried today.”

“Is that so.” Shen Wen feigned sudden understanding, glancing at Jiang Man. “So the Young Lady you were cursing—your own niece—has lost both her parents?”

Jiang Man’s eyes met hers by chance; her gaze trembled, and she fled from it at once.

Second Master Jiang was silent a moment, then clasped his hands. “We have made a laughingstock of ourselves before Female Scribe Shen. It is only that this—this girl is sorely in need of discipline.”

Shen Wen nodded. “No wonder you said she needed a good lesson.”

Second Master Jiang smiled obsequiously in agreement.

“Then discipline her.”

Jiang Man raised her head.

Shen Wen did not look at her again, only admiring her own nails. “What are you standing there for? She’s lost both parents—discipline her in their stead. I will bear witness for you.”

“This…” Where had his earlier ferocity gone? Some kindly countenance, learned who-knew-where, was now racked onto his face with all his might, the picture of embarrassment. “To have you witness such family shame. That Female Scribe Shen should grace this humble house—this official feels honored indeed. But our hospitality has been wanting, and I have not yet asked: what brings Female Scribe Shen to call today?”

Shen Wen gave a cold smile and let fall two words: “Humble house?”

Second Master Jiang froze. “What counsel does Female Scribe Shen offer?”

“I thought the master of this house had lost both parents. What, this is still your ‘humble house’? Are you the departed parent they mourn—or do you hold the deed to this property?” Shen Wen’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment no one in the hall dared speak.

“Master of the house.”

“Young Lady.”

Jiang Man started—only then realizing she was being called. She curtsied from where she stood. “Yes.”

“You and I have a debt to settle. If you will not find some quiet place, you might at least serve me a cup of tea?” Shen Wen’s brows lifted, almost warm.

Before Jiang Man could speak, an elder of the household bowed toward Shen Wen: “We will not intrude further, and dare not delay Female Scribe Shen’s important business.”

Shen Wen raised a hand. “Leave one of your clansmen behind to witness for me. You—stay, with your wife and son.”

She meant Second Master Jiang.

At this strange command the others hesitated, but the uncles from Lin’an moved like flowing water, bowing to Shen Wen in unison and leaving the moment their bows were done, not lingering an instant. Second Master Jiang’s face was dreadful, as though calamity loomed; several of Shen Wen’s attendants quietly withdrew as well.

Jiang Man watched them summon a young servant who, moments later, led the way ahead—perhaps to fetch Jiang Man’s aunt and that cousin.

What was this about?

“Still looking?” A soft voice sounded at her ear.

Jiang Man turned her head. Shen Wen stood a single step away.

Jiang Man at once dropped her head and stepped back. “Forgive my rudeness.”

Shen Wen said, “Where is my tea?”

But in the next breath she seemed to change her mind. “Never mind.”

Jiang Man looked up. Shen Wen’s expression was flat, pleasure and anger indistinguishable. Her heart surged—afraid of giving offense, yet with so many questions she wanted to ask—until at last she said, “Since there are accounts to settle, may Female Scribe Shen move to the study? I will follow shortly with fragrant tea to apologize.”

“Very well.” Shen Wen agreed, but did not hurry away, studying Jiang Man for a long moment.

No one had ever looked at Jiang Man so. They were both women, yes, but they were strangers—and for once she forgot the difference in their stations, hastily turning her eyes away.

A sharp crack rang out.

Jiang Man looked up to see Shen Wen shaking out her right hand, Second Master Jiang’s head knocked askew—and yet he still wore that obsequious, downcast look. It was almost comical.

Even as she marveled, Shen Wen walked over, expressionless, still shaking out her right hand, and tipped her chin forward. “Lead the way.”

“Yes.” Jiang Man nodded, took a half-step’s lead, then stepped aside to let Shen Wen walk before her.

She must have used a great deal of strength.

Rounding the corner, Jiang Man saw Jiang Yun waiting by the path, his left sleeve hanging heavy—perhaps holding the silver just withdrawn for the gifts of thanks. Seeing the worry on his face, Jiang Man only shook her head, betraying nothing.

“Have someone fetch the accountant from the outer household, with the ledgers for these past two years.” Having given the order, she quietly introduced him to Shen Wen. “To report to Female Scribe Shen: that is my family’s steward, Jiang Yun. The inner household’s ledgers are kept by me; the accounts are all stored in the study. We can reconcile them there.”

“So young, and already you manage the whole household so meticulously. No wonder your reputation precedes you.”

Jiang Man shook her head. “Empty reputation only. I am honored by your regard, Scribe.”

The study was staffed by four: the two pages who ran inner and outer errands were absent, leaving only the head maid Ke Ye and one quick-handed old servant. Seeing them from afar, they had already stoked the charcoal brazier and opened half a window for air.

Jiang Man offered Shen Wen the seat of honor and ordered tea brewed. Shen Wen did not sit, only surveyed the room’s furnishings.

Jiang Man’s whole attention hung on Shen Wen, her unease growing—until Ke Ye, waiting in the corner, asked softly, “Young Miss, your outer robe is soaked through. Shall I have someone warm dry clothes for you to change into?”

This Ke Ye had been assigned over from Jiang Man’s own rooms; she and the maid who had fainted were own sisters.

Jiang Man only said, “No need. Your sister is unwell—go to her.”

Ke Ye hesitated. “All the Young Miss’s usual attendants are in the side hall; I cannot summon a replacement on short notice. If I do not wait on you here, I fear we’ll be short-handed and neglect you and your honored guest.”

Jiang Man shook her head. “Go.”

Ke Ye started, then assented and was about to withdraw.

“Wait.” The speaker was Shen Wen.

She lifted her chin slightly, and at once someone followed behind Ke Ye.

Shen Wen said, “This is for treating your sister. Go.”

Ke Ye, flustered, thanked her repeatedly and withdrew.

Never mind Ke Ye—even Jiang Man felt as though she stood in fog.

Then Shen Wen dismissed the attendants as well. Jiang Man understood, had the tea set down, and sent the old servant out to wait beyond the door.

The tea had been cooled to just the right warmth. Jiang Man served it to Shen Wen with her own hands, curtsying. “Thank you, Female Scribe Shen, for delivering me from that ordeal.”

Shen Wen took the cup, glanced once into it, and did not drink.

Could the color of the tea not suit her taste? Jiang Man wavered, then said, “I do not know when my late father first had the honor of making Female Scribe Shen’s acquaintance. I have never concerned myself with outside matters, and have slighted you repeatedly today. I beg the chance to formally apologize.”

“What do you have to apologize for.” Shen Wen lifted the cup, and at last said, “I do not know Jiang Rao. But he owed me a great deal of money—that much is true.”

Jiang Man’s brow creased, then she forced it smooth again, answering gently, “The household has some ready silver on hand. Once the accountant from the outer rooms arrives, we can settle the wine workshop’s account with Female Scribe Shen in full. Should we fall short by a hundred-odd taels anywhere, the household will make up the difference. Our Jiang family trades in good faith—we would never shortchange your interest.”

But what manner of business did this Female Scribe Shen conduct? Ordinary purchases of grain and labor were usually kept on account and settled at month’s end; buying on credit abroad happened occasionally too. But a woman of her standing, pursuing the debt all the way to their door—the sum owed surely exceeded a mere thousand or eight hundred strings of cash. The funeral expenses had been enormous, and favors owed to clan and in-laws alike still had to be repaid. Jiang Man silently reckoned what ready money she could raise, and wondered whether those elders would truly simply go home like this.

A thousand worries at once. Jiang Man felt like a single beam bearing a collapsing roof, and grew only more careful before Shen Wen.

After a moment’s deliberation, she asked, “May I ask where in the palace Female Scribe Shen serves? The money my late father owed—how much in total, and are there written notes?”

Shen Wen looked over, studying her for a long while, then laughed. “I told you my name is Shen Wen. You truly do not know who I am?”

Jiang Man’s heart had been unsettled already; seeing that smile, hearing those words, she knew she had erred. She had always kept to her place, never prying into outside affairs—even the workshop’s troubles she never asked after unless Jiang Rao raised them himself.

This person was clearly smiling, and yet the pressure of her presence was overwhelming.

For the first time in her life, Jiang Man felt fear. When she spoke again, all color seemed to drain from her voice at once: “I am ignorant and ill-informed. I had never heard Female Scribe Shen’s name before. I beg forgiveness.”

“So be it.” Shen Wen drank half her cup. “My family is in the wine yeast trade. Do you understand what that means?”

Jiang Man paused only a heartbeat. “I understand.”

Before her stood the person who gripped the throat of the realm—the arbiter of life and death for every wine household under heaven.

Shen Wen was not merely of one bloodline with the Empress.

She was very likely the Empress’s own kin—true blue-blooded nobility.