It was hot. Before long, sweat beaded on their bodies. Seeing the two of them start dancing, Lu Liu ran over to join in.
None of the three of them actually knew how to dance. By comparison, Lu Liu was the most flexible, hopping about with an easy, relaxed air.
Lu Yang asked what he was thinking about.
“Just having fun,” Lu Liu replied.
They had come to play. There was no need to think about anything else.
Hong Chu felt something stir in his heart.
That was right. They had come to enjoy themselves. There was no need to dwell on restraints.
After another round of dancing, sweat soaked through their clothes. They ordered two attendants to come fan them and pour wine, and then had someone perform a sword dance.
The men had stripped down to nothing but underpants. Watching them wield swords dressed like that carried a peculiar charm.
Lu Liu let out another delighted chuckle.
None of the men here were as well-built or as handsome as his own Da Feng. He wondered whether Da Feng knew how to wield a sword. If he dressed like this and performed for him, how wonderful that would be.
He watched so intently that Hong Chu turned to chat with Lu Yang instead.
The two of them were of the same sort. Each could follow the other’s train of thought with ease. It was a pity they had only met twice; both exercised restraint and did not steer the conversation too quickly toward private matters, so their talk remained somewhat polite.
Yet in this setting, even that politeness carried a trace of kindred understanding.
Meanwhile, downstairs in the main hall, a circle of young gentlemen and young ladies stood together. They were all dressed beautifully, in red and green, blooming like a cluster of flowers.
Curious and inquisitive, they watched the Lu brothers go upstairs. Once the figures disappeared from sight, a low murmur of discussion began.
“They look alike. I stared for ages before I noticed one has a rounder face, and the other is slightly slimmer.”
“Their temperaments are different. One seems gentle, the other brisk and capable.”
“Are they both taking husbands? I heard they both take husbands—and even have their husbands come along to pick men.”
“Of course. Otherwise what man would let his furen come play with other men?”
…
“Look at their men, still sitting here waiting! So obedient. When we redeem ourselves, maybe we should take husbands too. That sounds far better than marrying into someone else’s family.”
“If we serve them, would they accept? Upstairs they do not need us—what about downstairs?”
“We might dare to serve. Would they dare to take us?”
…
Li Feng and Xie Yan: “…”
Since when had they become spineless, obedient sons-in-law?
After several rounds of wine, Lu Yang shifted the conversation from polite exchanges to family matters with Hong Chu.
He had heard that in wealthy households, young gentlemen and young ladies began learning household management at an early age. But what exactly did they study? Did they attend school, hire private tutors, or learn from elders? Was managing a household similar to running a business?
Hong Chu said there was much to learn: reading and writing, chess and zither, poetry and prose, tailoring clothes and making shoes, and mastering the culinary arts. One had to be capable both in the reception hall and in the kitchen. Beyond that, there was learning how to manage people and the household, how to review and calculate accounts, and how to oversee family enterprises.
Compared to doing business, each had its own hardships. If you asked Hong Chu, managing a household was certainly more exhausting.
“Dozens of people under one roof. Endless trivial matters. A crowd arguing back and forth over a few needles or lengths of thread. Old accounts from years ago dug up and mixed with new ones. If everything runs smoothly, that is simply what you ought to do. If anything goes wrong, you are labeled unvirtuous or incapable. Business is different. Earn one tael of silver and there is a clear record for one tael. Close a large deal and when word reaches home, the entire household hears of it and praises your ability. Of course, if you lose money, you get scolded. But that is fair—you made a mistake. It is better than silently enduring day after day at home.”
Because the subjects were so varied, there was no fixed place of study.
For reading and writing, they attended lessons alongside the male siblings, usually with a tutor invited to teach at home.
Tailoring and shoemaking were learned from household servants, often close maids or pages. Poetry and prose were practiced together with literate siblings, cultivating the refined tastes of scholars—drinking games and “flying flower” verse contests. During festivals or celebratory banquets, the younger generation would “perform” in this manner to entertain the elders and demonstrate diligence and literary talent.
Household management and accounting were learned from elders, along with dealings with stewards, managers, and shopkeepers.
“These people are shrewd,” Hong Chu said. “They have connections among themselves. Some dislike one another and will subtly sow discord before the master. Others are entangled with each other and either praise or conceal things in turns.”
“Accounts are reliable,” he continued. “They do not lie. But you must also pay attention to real events—know what changes are happening in the city, examine the household purchasing lists, compare the yields from the estates. If you keep such things in mind, even falsified accounts will reveal flaws.”
Lu Liu’s ears twitched. His gaze shifted from the dancers to Hong Chu.
Heavens—so much had to be learned to manage a household and review accounts!
From now on, he would strive toward that goal. He would never belittle himself again.
Lu Yang asked more practical questions. “When you attend lessons, what books do you read? Are there manuals on business?”
“There are,” Hong Chu nodded. “For instance, The Commercial Precepts of Tao Zhu Gong, as well as the classics and historical anthologies. Whatever scholars read, we must read too.”
At the mention of business manuals, Hong Chu became animated.
They discussed money and accounting, judging character, and moral principles in trade.
Lu Yang could keep pace with him on every topic.
“Have you read many books?” Hong Chu asked.
Lu Yang shook his head. “I do not recognize many characters. Over the past year I have been reading every day, though I understand little. My husband explains most of it to me. I cannot claim to have read many books—mostly I have listened.”
His business acumen came from observing the marketplace.
He had grown up among common folk and had been working since he could remember. He often listened to Old Chen tally accounts. When he grew older, he was assigned tasks.
Old Chen wanted him to sell the least goods for the greatest profit, and to purchase the most goods for the least money.
The problem tormented him. He had been small and ignorant, unable to figure it out, scolded and left hungry day after day. Old Chen would appear as a “kind father” when he felt helpless, offering guidance and a bit of food—only for the cycle to continue. When he failed, Old Chen would look disappointed. He lived in constant fear.
In that daily terror, Lu Yang pondered the question even in his dreams.
Whenever he had a spare moment, he thought about it. He watched people’s expressions, listened to their words, extracted meaning from what was said. Early on he learned what it meant for words and intentions to differ. Sometimes a smiling adult did not speak from happiness. Sometimes the opposite was true.
He wondered what goods were necessities, what circumstances would cause people to rush to buy and hoard, how to make them happy to spend money, and how to ensure they returned and recommended the shop to others.
For example, people bought meat from Butcher Liu because he was honest—he did not tamper with the scale and often threw in bits of offal for free.
They bought rice from Old Ye because he was straightforward—he sold new and old grain separately and did not deceive customers.
No one insisted on buying tofu from Old Chen’s shop.
Because Old Chen’s tofu varied in size. He was not an honest man.
When he grew older and money passed through his hands, Lu Yang became thoroughly familiar with costs and developed his own ideas.
Back then he was naïve, believing that if he performed well, Old Chen would like him. He once told Old Chen that in business, if you needed quick cash, it was acceptable to be greedy for a short while. But if you wanted to open a shop and serve neighbors long-term, you had to build a reputation and proceed steadily.
Old Chen would not listen.
People would crave tofu regardless. With no other tofu shop nearby, they had to buy from them. So he refused to conduct honest trade. He only wanted profit.
Now that Lu Yang ran his own business, it had not grown particularly large. He did not know how far this approach would take him. In the short term, it worked. He still needed to keep learning.
He knew how to draw closer to others—introducing bits of personal experience into topics of shared interest, laying his heart bare so the other person could resonate with his feelings. Once emotional connection formed, closeness followed.
He did not recount too much of his past. He only said that from a young age he had run about the marketplace helping his family sell tofu, learning to read expressions and to ponder carefully.
