BSI Chapter 10 The Doorman
Chapter 10 The Doorman
The outer courtyard and the inner courtyard are separated by a moon gate.
Inside the gate was the master's residence, and outside the gate were the living quarters for the retainers and servants.
When Zhao Heng passed through the moon gate, the guards were dozing off.
Spring afternoons are prone to drowsiness, and the man was leaning against the doorpost, his head nodding. Hearing footsteps, he suddenly woke up, saw that it was Zhao Heng, and hurriedly bowed, bending so abruptly that he almost bumped into the door frame.
Zhao Heng waved his hand, said nothing, and went straight to the west wing.
The midday sun was already quite strong.
The outer courtyard guest quarters consisted of a row of single-story houses with blue tiles. In front of the houses was a small rammed earth courtyard with several bamboo poles drying in the air, and clean linen towels draped over the poles.
Zhao Heng led four servants of Korean descent toward the courtyard.
The servants were all sons of Han's dowry, brought from Xinzheng. They were between twenty and thirty years old, taciturn, and walked with a steady gait. Each of them carried two bolts of plain silk, neatly wrapped in coarse cloth and folded into a square stack.
Before he even reached the door, Zhao Su had already come out from under the eaves to greet him.
He walked quickly, but a smile had already spread across his face. "Young master has just recovered from a serious illness, why did you come to the outer courtyard in person? If you have any orders, just call this old servant."
As he spoke, his gaze fell on the package in the servant's arms. His eyes swept over it naturally, as if it were a casual glance, but then lingered for a moment on the shape and size of the package.
Wrapped in coarse cloth, it was impossible to tell what was inside, but judging from its square shape and the stacks of fabric, it looked like bolts of cloth.
Zhao Heng continued walking: "Mother, please give some gifts to Meng Ben and the others."
Zhao Su was slightly surprised, but didn't show it on his face. He followed half a step behind, turning sideways so he could see Zhao Heng's expression clearly without blocking his way. The four packages flashed in his peripheral vision again.
"The mistress is kind," he said. "This way, young master, they are recuperating in the side room."
The guest quarters consisted of three rooms, with Meng Ben and his three companions sharing the easternmost one. The door was ajar, and a strong medicinal smell filled the air even before they reached the entrance. Zhao Su quickly pushed the door open and stepped aside to let Zhao Heng in.
The room was well-lit, with the windows open, and the spring breeze blowing through, dispersing some of the smell of blood.
Against the wall were four wooden couches. Meng Ben, Gongsun Yang, Ji Cheng, and Luan Ding lay on the couches, their backs wrapped in white cloth, which was stained with pale yellow medicine.
Hearing the sound of the door opening and footsteps, the four of them turned around at the same time.
Their movements weren't fast, and all four of them had injuries on their backs. Turning their necks pulled on their shoulders and backs, making them grimace in pain. But when they saw that it was Zhao Heng who had entered, they were all taken aback.
They had been recuperating on their beds for the past two days, only hearing that Zhao Heng had woken up, but not knowing the specifics. Now, suddenly seeing Zhao Heng standing at the door, backlit, his figure thin, his face still somewhat pale from his illness, he seemed no different from usual. Yet, for some reason, something felt different.
Meng Ben was the first to react, struggling to get up, which aggravated his back injury, causing him to break out in a cold sweat instantly.
Ji Cheng was younger and moved faster. He had already propped himself up with his elbows, but he groaned in pain and fell back onto the straw mat.
Luan Ding and Gongsun Yang didn't dare to move; they just turned their heads and looked at the doorway.
"No need for formalities, just lie down," Zhao Heng said.
The four of them were taken aback again, and looked at each other in bewilderment.
They remembered Zhao Heng's voice used to be soft and gentle, like a child's, sometimes even a little timid, as if afraid of saying the wrong thing. But this voice now…
Stable. Sinking.
Like a stone thrown into a deep well, it produces no splash, only a dull echo.
Zhao Su coughed lightly from the side.
"Hurry up and thank the young master!" he said in a deep voice. "If it weren't for the young master's intervention before the eunuch, you would all be dead by now!"
These words pulled the four back to reality from their daze. Meng Ben struggled to sit up, enduring the pain, and knelt by the bedside, saying, "We... thank you for saving our lives, young master."
The other three also bowed in respect.
Zhao Heng didn't speak, his gaze sweeping over the four people.
Meng Ben was about thirty-five or thirty-six years old, with dark, rough skin and bold eyebrows and eyes; Ji Cheng and Luan Ding were both in their early twenties, with the angular features of young men; Gongsun Yang was the oldest, about forty years old, and looked very sturdy.
The varying shades of medicine stains seeping through the white cloth on the backs of the four men clearly indicated that Zhao Su had exerted considerable force during yesterday's flogging.
Zhao Heng looked at it for a moment, then raised his hand.
"The steward should go wait in the outer room; I need to say a few words to them."
Zhao Su was taken aback.
His smile froze, the corners of his mouth still curved upwards, but his eyes widened. He clearly hadn't expected Zhao Heng to tell him to leave so directly.
Normally, when a master bestows a reward upon his retainers, the steward of the household should be present. Firstly, this demonstrates the household's generosity; such rewards require a steward's witness to appear solemn. Secondly, it also provides an opportunity to subtly remind the retainers of the favor and prevent them from harboring any disloyalty.
But Zhao Heng's words clearly indicated that he didn't want him to be there.
His facial muscles twitched slightly, but he quickly regained his composure. His gaze swept over Meng Ben and his three companions, then over the four servants who had accompanied Zhao Heng. The servants stood silently, their eyes lowered and faces expressionless.
"promise."
Without saying much, he cupped his hands in greeting and withdrew.
The door wasn't closed.
Zhao Heng didn't ask anyone to close the door. He simply gestured with his chin to the two servants closest to the door. The servants understood and stood on either side of the door, their bodies turned to the side, both guarding the door and blocking any possible prying eyes from outside.
Meng Ben and the other three looked at each other, somewhat at a loss.
Young master is so different today...
It wasn't just the tone of his voice, but also his expression and demeanor—all exuded a composure they had never seen before. It was as if a child had grown into an adult overnight; the skeleton remained the same, but the inside had changed.
They remained lying on the couch because Zhao Heng hadn't told them to get up. The four of them turned their heads at the same time and looked towards the door.
Zhao Heng stood with his back to the light, which shone in from behind, gilding his silhouette with a fuzzy golden edge. His face was in shadow, making his expression indistinct; only a slender silhouette could be seen.
The silhouette stood very straight.
With his shoulders level and back straight, he even looked somewhat like an adult.
Zhao Heng was slowly looking around the room.
The room was small, with four couches taking up most of the space, leaving a narrow passageway in the middle. Swords hung on the walls, seven or eight in total, of varying ages and conditions. Some had old scabbards with worn leather that gleamed from wear; others were new, with their lacquer still intact.
There was a pile of things in the corner.
It was covered with burlap, bulging and shaped like a bag or clothing. But what caught Zhao Heng's attention was the pile of bamboo slips next to it.
A dozen or so scrolls, bound together with hemp rope, were stacked neatly against the wall. The bamboo slips varied in color; some were already blackened, as if they had been frequently read, while others were still yellowish and shiny, indicating they were new slips.
Among the retainers, there were actually literate people?
Zhao Heng's gaze lingered on the pile of bamboo slips for a moment. He didn't go forward to flip through them, but just glanced at them a few more times before turning his attention back to the four people on the bed.
The four of them were also looking at him.
Their eyes held gratitude; they hadn't been unaware that they'd survived the clutches of the eunuch Gao Qu. There was also shame, for their failure to provide adequate protection had ultimately been a dereliction of duty. But most of all, there was bewilderment.
They didn't know why the young master had come, what was in the four packages, or what he wanted to say.
Zhao Heng raised his hand, signaling to the servant.
Two servants stepped forward, placed the bundle they were carrying on the ground, and untied the hemp rope binding it. The coarse cloth was unfolded layer by layer, revealing the plain silk underneath.
When the plain silk was unfurled in the dimly lit room, it was as if a small patch of light had suddenly appeared.
It was an undyed, natural white, not snow-white, but a white with a slight yellow tint, like willow catkins in early spring—soft and gentle. The silk surface was smooth, and when light fell on it, it wasn't dazzling, but rather spread out softly.
Madam Fu was right; this was indeed the finest silk. One bolt would probably be worth five thousand coins, enough for a family of five to live on for a year.
The servants took out bolts of silk and walked to the four beds, placing them beside each person's bed.
"These four horses are a gift from me to you all," Zhao Heng said.
The four of them froze. The room was so quiet that they could hear the wind rustling the cloth hanging on the bamboo pole outside the window, a rhythmic swishing sound.
Meng Ben opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Ji Cheng's eyes widened as he stared at the plain silk beside the bed, as if looking at something unbelievable. Luan Ding's Adam's apple bobbed. Gongsun Yang was the first to lower his head, looking at the ground, his shoulders slightly hunched.
Meng Ben was the first to react. He struggled to prop himself up again, this time slower, but the injury on his back still made his lips twitch.
"Young master, this... we failed in our duty as guards, and it is right that we are whipped. It is already a great kindness that you do not blame us, and you even spoke up for us in front of the eunuch. We have not yet repaid the debt of saving our lives, how dare we accept any more gifts from you?"
Ji Cheng, lying beside him, his young face flushed red, hurriedly interjected, "We can't accept this silk! Take it back! We...we're too ashamed to accept it!"
Zhao Heng stood at the door.
Sunlight streamed in from behind him, casting his face in shadow, obscuring his expression.
"Saving you is not some great favor. Nor is it something I intend to do for you. My retainers have served the Chunping Lord's household with utmost loyalty, and the household should repay them in a way that is morally right. This repayment is very simple—"
Meng Ben and the other three held their breath and stared at him.
Zhao Heng paused for a moment, then took two steps forward so that the four could see his face clearly, and continued, "It is to ensure that you will not die wrongly, unjustly, or unjustly because of the Chunping Jun Mansion incident."
After he finished speaking, the room fell into a deathly silence.
Meng Ben's hands gripped the edge of the couch, his knuckles white from clenching them. Ji Cheng buried half his face in his arms, only his eyes showing, wide open. Luan Ding and Gongsun Yang turned their heads to the side, motionless.
"Gao Qu wants to have you beaten to death today because of your status as 'retainers of Lord Chunping's household.' I refute him because this status should not be a reason for your death."
Zhao Heng seemed oblivious to the shock on the four men's faces, and continued, "Similarly, you protected me in the past because it was your duty as guardians. If you had done your duty and then committed a transgression, you were punished; once the transgression was punished, the matter should be closed."
The four people seemed stunned.
They lay on the tatami mat, looking at the boy standing before them. For a moment, they didn't know how to respond.
They all understood the logic behind those words. The relationship between a retainer and his master was based on a contract, a duty, and a mutual promise. But for an eleven-year-old child to say it sounded so...strange.
Strange, yet undeniable.
Silence fell in the room once again.
Only the sound of breathing, heavy and light, intertwined.
The four servants who accompanied Zhao Heng stood with their heads bowed by the door, their faces expressionless. It seemed that in just one day, they had become accustomed to the young master's different ways, not asking why, but simply obeying and carrying out orders.
Meng Ben and the other three exchanged glances, each seeing shock, confusion, and an indescribable sense of awe in the others' eyes.
They suddenly realized—
The young master before me is no longer the child he was before he fell into the water.
The child who would shed tears over a wounded sparrow, who would be timid when he couldn't recite his lessons, and who would run and laugh in the corridors of the mansion, seemed to have vanished overnight.
Instead, it is the people standing here now.
Zhao Heng ignored their shock and simply pointed to the silk fabric beside the bed.
"As for sending these four bolts of silk, I have a question for you all," he said. "Whether you answer or not, the silk is yours."