“Young master, our Sweet Treats Shop is nearly out of rock sugar. Should we restock?”
“What? Didn’t we just get a hundred jin last time? Sold out already?”
Crossing over early in the morning, Li Bo greeted Lu Zheng with good news.
“It’s almost Qiqiao Festival,” Li Bo explained. “The young ladies and wives in the city are preparing sweets to honour the Weaving Immortal, plus gifts and gatherings, all needing sugar frosting.”
“Qiqiao Festival? Weaving Immortal?”
Lu Zheng blinked. In China, Qiqiao Festival was Qixi, celebrating the Cowherd and Weaver Girl, a symbol of love. What was the Da Jing Dynasty’s version? Did they have a similar legend?
“Exactly!” Li Bo nodded. “Young master, you’ve lost track of days. Three days from now is Qiqiao Festival.”
Leaning in with a sly grin, Li Bo added, “It’s also when girls give gifts to their sweethearts. If the man’s interested, he’ll return the gesture. I bet Miss Liu’s already prepared her sachet. Don’t forget to get a gift, young master!”
Lu Zheng gave a stiff smile, probing, “What kind of gift should I give?”
“Anything works—copper hairpins, jade bangles, wooden combs, rouge. It’s about the thought. Some poor scholars write poems or gift drawings instead.”
“Got it.”
Lu Zheng nodded, patting Li Bo’s shoulder. “Good work. Keep reminding me about these things!”
“Of course!” Li Bo grinned, hoping for a kind future mistress. Liu Qingyan seemed perfect.
“I’m giving you a guan of cash. Get Aunt Liu a new outfit and a couple of accessories.”
Li Bo waved it off. “No need! These past two months, we’ve eaten well, lived better than before. We stay home mostly. My wife’s over fifty—why would she need new clothes or jewellery?”
“Take it. I know Aunt Liu chats with neighbours sometimes. Dress nicely, don’t embarrass me.”
“Right!” Li Bo nodded firmly. With a wave from Lu Zheng, he retreated to the front courtyard.
“Didn’t expect rock sugar to sell so fast. Good thing I planned ahead.”
Crossing back to the modern world, Lu Zheng hauled a large cardboard box from a spare room used as a warehouse, containing exactly one hundred jin of rock sugar.
Last time, to save hassle, he’d ordered five hundred jin. The remaining four hundred were stored in the guest room.
He grabbed a burlap sack, then it was mechanical work: unpack, pour, toss the packaging…
With Li Bo pushing a cart, Lu Zheng prepared to deliver the sugar to the shop.
“Oh, send a jin to the Liu family first.”
“No need, young master. I sent some two days ago, said it was your order.”
Lu Zheng was stunned. Li Bo was a gem—five-star assist!
…
Cong’an Lane, Sweet Treats Shop.
The shop really had less than ten jin of sugar left.
At fifty wen per liang, two hundred jin brought Lu Zheng a whopping one hundred guan.
Pure profit!
“All right, head back. I’ll wander a bit,” Lu Zheng said, waving Li Bo off.
Li Bo left with the cart, while Shitou and Ma San tended to customers.
Lu Zheng checked the shop, found everything in order, and strolled out, hands behind his back.
Qiqiao Festival.
Walking through Cong’an Lane, trailing some children, Lu Zheng learned the festival’s origins from passersby.
Legend said a heavenly仙女, unmatched in needlework and embroidery, crafted clothes that even gods prized.
Seeing humans in rags, she taught them sericulture, spinning, weaving, and sewing.
Since then, people honoured the Weaving Immortal annually. Women prayed for skill and displayed their work.
Displayed to whom?
Their sweethearts, of course!
Over time, Qiqiao Festival gained a romantic layer. Women gifted men handmade clothes, handkerchiefs, or sachets. If the man reciprocated, it sealed their affection.
Beyond that, women gathered, picnicked, and dined, competing in needlework and confectionery.
A perfect day to sell sugar frosting.
May every day be Qiqiao Festival.
Lu Zheng wandered, pondering what to gift Liu Qingyan.
He had to give something. She’d been so obvious. Could he refuse because of Lin Wan and Shen Ying?
That would break her heart!
I’m not trying to be a cad, he thought. I’m just too soft-hearted. It’s my nature, fate’s will—what can I do?
Sighing, Lu Zheng looked up to find himself at a rouge and powder shop.
“Young master, our rouge and powders are top-notch, plus eyebrow pencils and forehead yellow. Come in, you’ll find something you like!” the shop assistant called.
Lu Zheng shook his head. “Thanks, but no. The girl I like is a lotus blooming from clear water, naturally flawless, no need for gaudy makeup.”
As he spoke, a woman leaving the shop lit up.
At the same time, a giggle came from behind.
“Hee hee, Sister, is Brother Lu talking about you?”
Lu Zheng: (⊙o⊙)
Turning awkwardly, he saw the Liu sisters less than five steps away, seemingly about to greet him.
Liu Qingyan’s face was crimson, barely meeting his eyes. She nodded faintly, grabbed Liu Qingquan, and slipped into the crowd.
Lu Zheng smacked his lips. Had he just accidentally scored major points?
I’m a bloody genius!
Even my caddishness is so subtle!
As the Liu sisters retreated, the woman from the shop approached.
“Fine poetry, young master. Is that girl the lotus you spoke of? Truly worthy of your words.”
Her sultry voice reached Lu Zheng’s ears. He turned to look.
A fitted purple-red silk dress, a silver phoenix-tail hairpin, brows like ink, eyes like mist, lips bold with rouge—a captivating beauty.
“Uh, hello, miss!”
Lu Zheng nodded, blinked, and walked away without hesitation.
He was certain Liu Qingyan was watching nearby. He couldn’t ruin the goodwill he’d just earned.
The woman’s lips curved. Seeing Lu Zheng enter a jewellery shop, she swayed her hips like a snake, her steps light as lotus petals, and followed him inside.
…
“Sister! That vixen followed him! What do we do?”
“Mind your language!” Liu Qingyan tapped Liu Qingquan’s forehead, exasperated. “What can we do? Should I follow him in?”
Liu Qingquan thought. “I’ll go?”
Liu Qingyan tugged her sister’s ear, turning to leave. “I trust Lu. Don’t you dare make trouble!”
“Sister, that hurts!”
