Chapter 74: The Difference Between the Two Sisters

Chapter 74 The Sisters' Differences

The next day, rain fell steadily, wind howled fiercely.

The raindrops drummed endlessly upon the pond’s surface, a ceaseless patter.

Chen Yì awoke early, finished his breakfast, and stayed in the study, skipping the pavilions and towers.

He sat by the window, listening to the storm outside, practicing calligraphy and poetry.

It held a certain charm, this quietude.

Di Bie stood nearby, grinding ink, watching his brushstrokes, silently reading the characters in her heart.

“Small tower, last night brought another easterly wind… Eastern wind, no match for Zhou Luo… No match for Zhou Luo, then… then it’s Zhou’s red lips, plain face… face?”

No poem began with the character for “face.”

She shifted, picking up another line, disconnected yet flowing: “Three mountains, half-submerged beneath the blue sky… Stealing half a day of leisure in life.”

The verses were scattered, but his characters were meticulous.

Though Di Bie lacked deep knowledge of calligraphy, her sharp eyes discerned the subtle flourish in his strokes.

With such spirit, his mastery of the art was unquestionable.

“Master Xiao, the rain is fierce today, wind is strong—are you worried about Young Mistress?”

Xiao Jinghong was absent, so Spring Lotus Garden returned to its usual leisurely rhythm.

Di Bie, as customary, reverted to her formal address.

Chen Yì replied casually, “My lord, no need to trouble yourself—she’ll manage all right.”

In these days, he understood Xiao Jinghong’s temperament well.

Tradition leaned toward propriety—respect for teachers, adherence to rites, honoring elders and cherishing the young.

Yet her military upbringing had forged a different style.

“Thunderous and stern,” perhaps, though not entirely fitting—still, her actions bore resolve.

Combined with her cultivation and strength, such weather would not trouble her.

Di Bie puzzled, “Master Xiao, tales say husbands apart often write poems of longing. Shouldn’t there be verses about missing one’s wife?”

Chen Yì paused, dipped his brush, then finished the final stroke.

“Stories and reality often differ.”

Yet he had indeed composed a lyric.

After a moment, he set the pine-wood paper aside and continued: “Sometimes I think of my wife.”

Like last night, after practice, when he saw the report—he wondered how powerful Xiao Jinghong must be to make the Shadow Guild uneasy.

Compared to her, others in the Hou family, even the old patriarch, seemed beneath their notice.

Clearly, such thoughts didn’t align with Di Bie’s fantasies.

But when Chen Yì merely said he sometimes thought of her, Di Bie relaxed, smiling softly:

“Miss Bie understands, Master Xiao—you miss Young Mistress.”

Chen Yì smiled, offering no further explanation, and told her, “Call Guo Qi to rise. We’ll eat later at Aunt Xiao’s.”

“Yes.”

In summer, children doze lazily in the heat.

Especially on rainy days, sleep was inviting.

Had Chen Yì not regained vigor from martial arts practice, he might have dozed too.

Mealtime arrived.

Chen Yì raised his umbrella, cradling Xiao Guo in his arm, heading to Jiaxing Garden.

Di Bie, with her small parasol, fetched food from the kitchen, remaining in Spring Lotus Garden.

Upon reaching Jiaxing Garden, Chen Yì saw Xiao Wán'er, dressed in a thick, crimson overcoat, hastily urging:

“Paint Tang, be careful on the road—even if anxious, mind your safety.”

Across from her, Shen Paintang wore a raincoat and bamboo hat, a lone figure with a wanderer’s bearing.

Traveling far?

Chen Yì mused, then approached with Xiao Guo in his arms.

Shen Paintang bowed politely: “Your Highnesses, I’ve noted your request. Take care of yourselves.”

“My sisters are here—you needn’t worry. Just be cautious.”

She gave further instructions, then let Shen Paintang lead a group of guards.

After they left, Chen Yì noticed her worried expression and asked, “Any issues with the herbs?”

Xiao Wán'er blinked, surprised he’d guessed, then nodded hesitantly:

“The batch arrived in Shuzhou, met heavy rain—couldn’t take the river route, so I sent Paintang by land, where bandits might lurk.”

Chen Yì murmured, entering the wooden pavilion. Xiao Guo soothed beside her: “Brother Chen once said, ‘Those who’ve found their way aid many; those lost aid few.’”

“We’ve weathered so much—surely no more troubles ahead.”

Chen Yì set him down, brushing rain from his sleeve, then shot him a sharp glance.

His offhand words, unintended yet, struck a chord with the boy.

Xiao Wán'er, after hearing this, felt some relief, her eyes drifting meaningfully to Chen Yì.

“Those who’ve found their path do help…”

The Xiao family had, in recent years, earned renown defending the Wei dynasty’s southern frontiers.

She hoped those herbs would arrive safely—otherwise, the next six months would strain every branch of the Xiao household.

Prolonged hardship breeds unrest.

Chen Yì saw through her thoughts, smiling: “First, eat. A full belly sustains the work ahead.”

Xiao Wán'er cleared her throat, nodded, and ordered her maid to bring the meal.

Her mood had lightened, and with Xiao Jinghong gone, the afternoon brought easier conversation.

Over rice, Xiao Wán'er spoke of the pharmacy’s operations—procurement, management, overseers, physicians, accountants.

Though routine, Chen Yì listened keenly, recalling his own past labors, finding little new.

Except for Xiao Wán'er, the family’s steward, who oversaw all affairs with precision.

Unlike Xiao Jinghong’s decisive military bearing, Xiao Wán'er’s decisions left no room for delay.

It was merely the nature of the person, Xiao Wan’er seemed reluctant to draw things to a complete close, always wanting to see everything through to the end.

She even thought of the apprentices working at the very bottom of the pharmacy halls, intending to look after them as well.

Such meticulousness was, after all, hard to fault.

Yet how could one explain such conduct?

Chen Yi could not help but shake his head in disagreement.

Human energy is, after all, limited; one cannot possibly attend to money matters, personnel, and family affairs with absolute perfection.

Those who are determined to see everything through to the end inevitably end up with enemies on all sides, and there will always be some who harbour resentment.

Still, Chen Yi merely mused on such thoughts in his heart, never daring to offer any direct instructions or make specific decisions himself.

Now that Xiao Wan’er had taken charge of the vast Xiao family, it was no easy task.

Even if there were some imbalances or minor shortcomings in her management, it was unlikely to provoke widespread outrage.

“Elder sister, I have a question.”

“Say on, it matters little.”

Xiao Wan’er cast her eyes toward him, her heart somewhat agitated, hoping he would not bring up anything unrelated to the pharmacies.

After all, Xiao Wuo was still alive…

But Chen Yi spoke earnestly: “In the five pharmacy halls of Shuzhou, are all internal affairs determined by the individual shopkeepers?”

Xiao Wan’er let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, and replied after a moment: “Indeed, that is the case.”

“Each pharmacy hall is situated in a different location and faces different patients, so I have long followed the established practice, allowing them to handle matters on their own.”

“Only when they encounter truly difficult problems do I or a few of the officials in the capital step in to resolve them.”

Chen Yi nodded in understanding, then lowered his head to eat, saying nothing further.

Such loose management was bound to create loopholes for people to exploit, as was evident from the former shopkeeper of Jiushi Pharmacy Hall.

Yet such rules also granted the individual shopkeepers a certain degree of autonomy in decision-making.

If they possessed genuine capability, they could manage the pharmacy’s operations beyond expectations.

However, it was clear that among the five shopkeepers under the Xiao family, most merely stood firm in their positions, their minds not particularly sharp.

It seemed… it was likely related to rewards and punishments.

In the end, Chen Yi recalled the ledger he had seen yesterday for Jiushi Pharmacy Hall, and formed a rough estimate of the Xiao family’s pharmacy revenues.

“The monthly net profit does not exceed two thousand taels; even including land rent and taxes, it should not surpass four thousand taels.”

To all appearances, this seemed like a considerable sum. But when added to the Xiao family’s monthly household expenses and the costs of decorating their premises and staging extravagant events, they likely had less than a thousand taels left each month.

No wonder the old patriarch was selling the “Life-Giving Gift” to Xiao Jinghong for construction funds.

Moreover, Xiao Wan’er’s tight control over those medicinal ingredients suggested that the capital’s funds were running rather short.

These thoughts merely flickered through Chen Yi’s mind, and he gave them no further consideration.

After all, having some understanding was not entirely without merit.

(Chapter Complete)