Once Gu Zhao left this time, he was away for ten days to half a month without setting foot at home, not even making it back for the New Year.
Last year on New Year's Eve, he was rushing off to battle, and she could only, from a great distance, at the moment the fireworks bloomed, silently wish him safety.
This New Year's Eve, Gu Zhao was again at war, and she could not even see his face.
She wondered whether, by the next New Year's Eve, since they would already be married and the bandit suppression mostly done, the two of them might finally spend it together.
During the Spring Festival, it was the time for visiting relatives and friends. Zhu Qingyu stayed at the Zhang family home for a few days, then moved back to the medical clinic.
One day, while Zhu Qingyu was writing a book in the front courtyard, Mrs. Zhuang arrived bearing gifts for a visit.
Mrs. Zhuang had been very cheerful lately, her eyes shining as she chatted:
“Thanks to Vice Minister Gu, killing so many smugglers and even capturing a garrison commander in league with bandits, I've finally had a good New Year. You have no idea—this month has been genuinely peaceful, nothing at all out of the ordinary. I barely know what to do with myself.”
Lord Zhuang had been appointed to implement the new salt policy in Jiangsu, abolishing the salt certificate system in favor of ticket sales—a move that had offended countless people and drawn several assassination attempts.
Previously, selling salt was limited to a handful of authorized merchants, and those merchants had to acquire salt certificates from the salt administration, which meant greasing palms all the way up the chain and tacking those costs onto the salt price. That drove official salt prices ever higher, and the demand for smuggled salt naturally arose.
With the abolition of certificates and issuance of tickets, Lord Zhuang petitioned the emperor for a decree. The first step was dismantling the salt administration bureau itself, from transport commissioners to salt inspectors—all were recalled to the capital, eliminating every department that had taken bribes.
The second step was eliminating the big salt merchants. Under the new policy, anyone could purchase salt tickets at government offices, and anyone holding a ticket could trade in salt. The eight great merchant houses of Yangzhou lost their monopoly. Apart from those who, like the Zhang family, had already moved into officialdom, or those like the Xue family who had seen the tide turn early and retreated, most of them were ruined by the reform.
The third step was eliminating the black-market salt dealers. Under the new policy, the man in charge of salt tickets was Lord Zhuang himself. He took no bribes even in the Office of Transmission, so he certainly wouldn’t in Jiangning either. Small merchants who bought salt tickets did not need to pay extra under-the-table fees—beyond the ticket tax, they only paid for salt at the salt works and shipping costs. With costs transparent and fair competition for everyone, official salt prices plummeted, and naturally no one bothered with smuggled salt.
And since everyone now flocked to official salt, ticket sales climbed steadily, and the salt tax the emperor had long worried about finally flowed into the treasury.
The scheme to abolish certificates and issue tickets was proposed by Gu Zhao, but only a man like Lord Zhuang could actually see it through to success.
Moreover, for the policy not to wither after a brief flourish, it needed not only Lord Zhuang but armed protection as well.
Only by killing off those who stirred trouble—frightening them so thoroughly that they no longer dare to scheme—could the policy endure for the long haul.
Zhu Qingyu echoed Mrs. Zhuang’s words, smiling:
“The other day the kitchen came to settle the accounts, and I realized that official salt has already dropped to twenty wen a catty. The silver people save lets them have a proper good New Year—all thanks to Lord Zhuang.”
Friendly relations always thrive on mutual praise. As soon as Zhu Qingyu finished complimenting Lord Zhuang, Mrs. Zhuang returned the favor:
“If we’re talking about saving money, this charity clinic you’ve run is the real deal—consultations for only twenty wen, and medicines priced so low. That’s a huge saving in itself.”
A little extra cash in hand, a good New Year to celebrate.
Gu Zhao, who had been out on the road winning those few silver bits for everyone else, did not return to Jiangning until the fourteenth day of the first month.
As before, it was the dead of night when he climbed into Zhu Qingyu’s bed, radiating cold.
After so long apart, she missed him more than she had imagined she would. This time, Vice Minister Gu did not even have time to use any of his tricks before he was eagerly pulled in by Lord Zhu and lost in tender, heady intimacy.
Zhu Qingyu had been burned once and learned her lesson well—afraid he might slip away early again, she forced herself awake before dawn and scrambled to get dressed.
Gu Zhao, half-asleep, wrapped his arms around her and tugged her back under the covers:
“Sleep a little longer—what are you getting up for?”
Zhu Qingyu grabbed a wooden hairpin and pinned up her hair:
“Today is the Lantern Festival. I’m going to have them cook a bowl of sweet rice dumplings. We’ll have a bowl together, so it counts as celebrating the New Year. You can eat before you leave.”
Gu Zhao was confused:
“You’re kicking me out?”
Zhu Qingyu was equally confused:
“You don’t have to go out?”
Gu Zhao pulled her back into his arms:
“Everyone who needed cutting down is already cut. I’m not going anywhere. It’s already the fifteenth—if I go out again, I might miss our own wedding. Even if the emperor himself called me, I wouldn’t leave!”
With him not heading off to war, Zhu Qingyu had one less worry. She nestled into his chest and said:
“We’ve known each other so long, but we’ve never once spent a proper New Year together. Let’s try to spend next New Year together, hmm?”
Hearing the tenderness in her voice, Gu Zhao rested his chin atop her hair, rubbing gently:
“All right—next New Year, we’ll spend it together. How do you usually celebrate?”
Following her old way of spending New Year, of course, would mean watching the Spring Festival Gala with family and then setting off fireworks. But here there was no gala to watch, so she said:
“We could just have a meal together and let off some fireworks—just a simple celebration. The main thing is being together.”
A New Year’s meal and fireworks together—such an ordinary wish for anyone else. And the next year they would be married, family already. How could it possibly not come true?
Gu Zhao agreed readily:
“Good. Next New Year, we’ll definitely be together—having a meal and setting off fireworks.”
And true to his word, this time Gu Zhao never left the house again. Indeed, he never went out. Every day, like clockwork, the two had breakfast together, then went their separate ways—one to see patients, the other to his duties.
In the evening, when his shift ended, he would return on time to eat supper with Zhu Qingyu, and before bed they would read some light books together, indulging in simple, mundane pleasures.
Their daily life had settled into that of an old married couple.
On the day before the third day of the third month, wedding eve, Gu Zhao dutifully returned to the Governor’s Residence, while Zhang Shenze came to pick up Zhu Qingyu and take her back to the Zhang family—the next morning, she would be married from the Zhang household.
On her wedding day, the bride carries the heaviest burden: she must wake before dawn to be dressed and made up. So Zhu Qingyu went to bed early. At the fourth watch, just short of the time to rise for one’s toilette, Nanny Tian from the clinic suddenly arrived at the Zhang family door, knocking hard enough to rattle the frame. She was led to the inner courtyard and called through the door:
“Doctor Zhu, one of the sheriff’s constables got badly wounded while catching a thief. Su Mu, Lin Lan, and the others can’t handle it.”
Zhu Qingyu grabbed a wooden hairpin to pin up her hair, pushed open the door, and said:
“Let’s go!”
Because of the wedding that day, Nanny Qin had been staying in the outer room.
Seeing the hour for dressing arrive and the bride about to run out the door, even the professional Nanny Qin was flustered. She chased after her and called out:
“Doctor Zhu—the hour is here! What about the dress!”
A distant voice floated back:
“Send it to the clinic!”
