Chapter 536: An Urgent Letter from the Ministry of Justice

The so-called feng shui master left just like that after finishing his words. No matter how the eldest aunt and the others tried to stop him, they couldn’t hold him back. With his cloth bag slung over his shoulder, he strode away down the village path and soon vanished from sight.

“Eldest Sister-in-law, did you hear what the Celestial Master said?” Madam Chen lifted her chin high, her tone brimming with pride and a hint of mockery. “Wherever my son is, that place is a blessed dwelling!” She practically looked down her nose at the eldest aunt.

The eldest aunt, thoroughly humiliated, could no longer hold her head up. She retreated awkwardly, her earlier confidence gone without a trace. The old matriarch quickly found an excuse—something about the stove still burning at home—and followed her back to the old residence. Fourth Aunt and Third Aunt lingered for a moment longer, chatting briefly with Madam Chen, before they too departed.

Meanwhile, the old patriarch walked along with his hands clasped behind his back, puffing on his pipe. As he strolled beside another elderly man of similar age, he spoke with a tone of unmistakable pride.

“Even Master Zhang said it—wherever my Ping’an is, it’s a place of good fortune. And this Master Zhang is no ordinary man. Even the former county magistrate invited him.”

Bathed in the glow of the setting sun, the old man’s face seemed to shine faintly red, his satisfaction evident in every line of his expression.

The other old man chuckled and replied bluntly, “Then why were you so foolish back then to split Ping’an’s family off? If they’d stayed, your old household would’ve shared in that good fortune too.”

At those words, the old patriarch fell silent.

Only the ember at the tip of his pipe glowed faintly, flickering in the dusk. After a long while, he let out a quiet sigh. Under the fading sunlight, his figure seemed to age several years in an instant.

After the matter of feng shui ended, Madam Chen stayed behind to chat with several neighboring women. Her words, sentence after sentence, revolved around how remarkable Master Zhang was—and how outstanding her son was.

Yet whenever the women chimed in with praise for Zhu Ping’an, Madam Chen would wave her hands modestly, insisting, “Oh, no, no, he’s not that remarkable.”

And then—almost as if to prove it—she began recounting, with great enthusiasm and undisguised pride, several embarrassing stories from Zhu Ping’an’s childhood.

“When this silly boy was three,” she began, her eyes lighting up, “his grandfather gave him ten coins and told him to sell tobacco leaves at the village entrance. If he made an extra coin, he could buy himself some candy.

Not long after, he came running back, chewing on a piece of candy, happily handing over nine coins and saying all the tobacco had been sold!”

I gave him a good beating for that!”

“And another time—he went with some other kids to pull up soybeans from someone else’s field to eat. When they tried to hide in the crops, he ended up falling asleep right there!”

Truly, only a mother could recount such things with such relish. She listed them one after another as if they were treasured anecdotes.

Fortunately, Zhu Ping’an wasn’t present—otherwise, he would surely have been so embarrassed he might have wished to bang his head against a wall.

Behind the gate of the new residence across the way, Hua’er and Li Shu were crouched, eavesdropping quietly. As they listened, they couldn’t help covering their mouths, their eyes curving into crescents with suppressed laughter.

That evening, Zhu Ping’an had dinner at the new residence.

Since he would soon be departing for the capital, Madam Chen had deliberately driven him away—half-jokingly—to give the young couple more time alone together.

The urgency of his departure was due to the impeachment memorial he had submitted before leaving the capital. Earlier that afternoon, the magistrate of Huaining County had sent over several bundles of tribute noodles along with an urgent letter.

Huaining tribute noodles had been designated for imperial use since the Song Dynasty, and the magistrate often used them as gifts. But the letter was the more important matter—it had been sent by express courier from the capital, issued by the Ministry of Justice, urging Zhu Ping’an to return promptly and present his case.

In fact, this was already the second such urgent letter.

Though his leave was far from over, under such circumstances, he had no choice but to set out as soon as possible.

Zhao Daying… killing the innocent to claim merit.

A faint, cold smile appeared at Zhu Ping’an’s lips.

So eager to summon me back to the capital? Let’s hope you won’t regret it.

“The Young Master-in-law is back,” the maids greeted, each bowing respectfully. Zhu Ping’an nodded in acknowledgment.

Inside the room, two maids were attending to Li Shu as she washed her hands. One held a small basin with both hands, while the other stood nearby with a towel, waiting attentively.

Hua’er dipped her hand into the water first to test the temperature. Her cheeks puffed slightly in displeasure.

“You’re getting more careless by the day,” she said, her tone reproachful. “Didn’t I just tell you to mix in more hot water? And now you’ve forgotten again?”

“Good sister, we did add hot water earlier…” the maid holding the basin replied apologetically. “It must have cooled down. Sister Que, could you please add some more hot water?”

After more hot water was poured in, Li Shu finally washed her hands.

Just as Zhu Ping’an entered, she had finished. She handed the used towel back to the maid and instructed her to bring fresh water for Zhu Ping’an.

“No need to trouble yourselves.”

Zhu Ping’an waved his hand lightly and walked over. Without ceremony, he used the same basin of water Li Shu had just used, washing his hands casually. The water was still clean—there was no need to fetch another basin.

The maid nearby couldn’t help but cover her mouth and giggle softly.

Li Shu’s delicate face flushed instantly, a rosy glow spreading across her cheeks under the light of the red candles. Her bright, watery eyes shot him a sideways glance as she scolded softly,

“You really have no sense of propriety.”

While Zhu Ping’an washed his hands, the maids filed in one after another, carrying dishes from the kitchen and arranging them neatly on the table.

The spread was lavish—each dish fragrant and beautifully presented. There were delicacies such as phoenix-tail shark fin, red plum pearl meatballs, kung pao wild rabbit, braised pork tenderloin shaped like the character “fortune,” sesame rolls, along with several vegetarian dishes. The table was filled to the brim.

At least this time, there were no strange combinations like jellyfish, chives, mutton, or pig kidneys…

At the center sat a clay pot of simmered soup—likely chicken—its rich aroma rising in gentle waves, instantly stirring the appetite.

“Next time, you can make a bit less,” Zhu Ping’an said after a moment’s thought, glancing at the abundance of dishes. “There’s too much—we won’t be able to finish it all.”

To him, even four dishes and a soup would already be more than sufficient. Back at the old residence, a meal might consist of only one or two simple dishes.

“If we can’t finish it, we’ll reward it to the maids and servants,” Li Shu replied calmly, casting him a glance with a faint, elegant smile. “They’ve been attending to us and haven’t eaten yet.”

“Thank you, Miss, for the reward!” The maids beamed with delight, their faces lighting up instantly.

Zhu Ping’an paused, then smiled inwardly.

So this is how it works in great households…

He recalled scenes from novels—large families would prepare dozens of dishes, though only a few people dined. The leftovers would then be distributed among the servants.

In such households, rules were strict: if the masters had not yet eaten, the servants could not begin their meal. Thus, the leftover food was never wasted. Being rewarded with such dishes was considered an honor—something only higher-ranking maids and servants could enjoy. It was, in its own way, a mark of status.

Hua’er busied herself attending to Li Shu—serving dishes, pouring soup—while another maid stepped forward, intending to assist Zhu Ping’an.

He waved her off with a small smile.

“I have hands and feet,” he said lightly. “There’s no need for someone to serve me.”