Chapter Text
Zhou Zishu chose Lyme as his destination in a fit of melancholy. He’d never had a particular interest in the sea, but the promise of a location at which he has no connections appealed to him. It was not as though Lyme had ever been of interest to Regent Jin. The smell alone would have been enough to keep anyone from that particular circle away.
Dressed in an ill-fitting jacket and scuffed boots, he wandered up and down the jetty at his own leisure. Sometimes he’d stop in at a local tavern for something simple to eat. Or, on the rare sunny days, he’d find a local pasture to enjoy the heat of the light. His evenings were spent in a tiny rented room filled with little more than a cot and a writing desk.
It was a far cry from how he was raised. Lyme afforded him no servants to manage. No correspondence to take care of. The mornings weren’t filled with visitors and trips to see financial advisors about his holdings. He received no letters from the Court and sent none himself.
His thoughts were filled with nothing of consequence. Instead of considering how to best approach a Duke at a society gathering, he contemplated what type of ale he’d like to drink himself to sleep with that night. Or, if he is in a more melancholy state, he might have thought back on his more happy memories from long ago.
Occasionally, he caught snippets of conversation from the few members of the ton brave enough to commute Lyme's weather. “Did you hear that the Dang Yang estate was sold? How horrible for the family!”
Or, “I don’t know how that part of the country can call itself moral. Why? To have such a cyprian in residence! To think that that great house could have fallen so low.”
To which, another older woman responded, “I heard her benefactor has long since disappeared.”
“I heard that she was the daughter of an Earl. To think that she plunged so far into sin.”
He tried to shut his ears but there was never a respite.
“If only that whole horrible business had never happened. I heard that Lord Gao’s daughter was betrothed to Mr. Zhang’s son at her birth but the families haven’t spoken in years. All over that madman Mr. Rong!”
Zishu’s walked away, ready to rid himself of such society.
It was as if Zhou Zishu had died and been replaced with someone else entirely. This version of him was more numb. Failure had no meaning in that body. The past had no bearing on the present. The future was nonexistent and he did not dwell on it. His orders were tucked in his jacket near his ribs. The paper had long since yellowed and stained with his sweat, but the heavy weight of its pages reminded him daily of his bleak future.
He walked, he drank and he slept. And then he rose another day and lived similarly. Sometimes he marveled in the world of nature. Other times he found nirvana at the bottom of a bottle.
One day was no different than the rest as he found himself ambling towards the pier after a walk through the local countryside. A bottle of rum stood in for a companion in society. When the wind died down enough to make sitting near the ocean bearable, he would escort his friend out and spoke to him as if they were the closest acquaintances.
Of course, much of the town had the same idea and were out on the promenade. Ladies held on to their hats even in the lighter breeze while gentlemen pointed out towards the sea and commented on the various vessels anchored offshore. He found a bench far enough away from the fishmonger to be comfortable and sprawled out in the most ungentlman-like way.
“Sir, are you alright?”
The voice of a young man knocked him from his daydream as a shadow interrupted his sun. Zishu blinked rapidly up at the person hovering over him, clutching at his bottle..
An anxious person, most likely a servant, stepped up behind the boy. “Master Zheng. This man is a beggar.”
The boy ignored the servant and smiled down at Zishu. “Can I help you with a meal, sir?”
“You’re blocking my sun,” Zishu complained. The last thing he wanted was someone meddling. The boy’s charity was better spent on someone who actually needed it.
The boy jumped back, looking mortified. “I apologize, sir.” He bit his lip. He couldn't have been more than fifteen. “I can see that I’ve interrupted you. Perhaps I could extend an invitation for you to stay at my father’s house for a time?”
The servant gasped in horror. “Master Zhang! Please.” He shifted from one foot to another. “Let us find your mother before she misses you.”
Zishu took a closer look at the boy under the guise of scratching his face. He was well dressed and wearing the latest fashion of trousers instead of breeches. A smile became his face well, although he looked far too naive; the son of a country gentleman, then.
“If you like, you can tell the Butler at Mirror Lake Manor, a Mr. Li, that I’ve invited you personally.” He held out his card but his smile faltered when Zishu made no effort to take it.
“Master Zhang,” the servant pleaded again.
“Ah, well.” The boy set his card neatly next to Zishu’s elbow. “Good day, sir.” He bowed and turned off with the servant.
When they had gone, Zishu picked up the card and examined it: fine card stock and an elegant, if average typeset. He scoffed and rubbed his nose with annoyance.
“Can you even read?”
Zishu glanced up from his sprawled position. Someone new leaned over him, her hands on her hips and her head cocked in interest. She was dressed like a lady with a colorful peliese and a decorated bonnet, but her manners were more like the local hawker than any woman of good breeding. Her eyes traveled to the card in his hand. “Well. Can you? You don’t look like you can read.”
“Can you?” Zishu shot back, offended on behalf of his own ego. Was he to be accosted by children all day?
The girl scoffed and wagged her finger at him. “Of course I can. I’m not some sort of ninny, you know.” She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “I didn’t think beggars could read.”
Zishu turned his body to give her the distinct message that he was not interested in talking anymore. But the girl, for all of her finery, was apparently very rude and stepped around so she could see his face again. “Where did you learn to read? Did you attend school?”
The question stuck him as incredibly odd. Although, before he could form a scathing enough retort, another voice interjected. “My dear Xiang, this is hardly appropriate behavior for a lady.”
The girl whirled around. “Master Wen!” She cried. “Do you think this man is really a beggar? His clothes fit so poorly but he can read. He looks like he might have an illness!”
Zishu followed her look to the incongruous sight of a fair gentleman standing amongst the filth of the docks. He looked rich, to be sure, in his ivory waistcoat and tall beaver hat. With long hair pulled back from his face in a horse’s tail, he gave the distinct impression of a man out of time. He was also, most glaringly, dressed more for a ball than an afternoon’s stoll in Lyme. Yet his expression was one of amused exasperation as his eyes drifted from the girl to Zishu.
He bowed at the waist as he tipped his hat. “Please accept my apologies, dear Sir. My ward here is still very young.”
Zishu grimaced back at him in the facsimile of a smile but nodded all the same. “It's fine,” he says gruffly.
“Master Wen!” The girl exclaimed, drawing a few looks from passers. “I didn’t say anything mean!”
The man clicked his tongue at her. “Yes, but you did say something rude. It is not polite to question the education of others, dear Xiang. Nor to gossip.”
She pouted but stepped back out of Zishu’s sun and to the side of the man. He looked at her pointedly and then back at Zishu. She sighed and dropped to a horrid approximation of a curtsey. “I apologize, Mr. Sick Man.”
Zishu took a swig from his bottle in response and closed his eyes.
“Good day, sir. Perhaps we’ll meet again soon,” The man said. Zishu imagined him touching his fingers to the bring of his hat in the way that elegant men do, and sweeping his hand behind his back as he bows. Zishu ground his jaw; wanting to be free of such thoughts.
The girl huffed but the click of her shoes indicated she, at least, left. Zishu cracked his eyes open. They were both gone, headed towards the pier itself to join the other members of the ton.
He sighed, relaxed back into his seat and pulled out the boy’s card. Perhaps he would take advantage of a country house for a time. Just to be away from the curious eyes of holidayers.
****
A few days later, he inquired with his proprietor on the location of the Mirror Lake Manor, gathered up his few belongings, patted his chest to confirm he still had his letter, and headed to the stable to rent a horse. The trees lining the road to the boy’s estate had just begun to drop their spring flowers which made for a lovely ride. Thankfully, the spring rains had mostly passed which left the road dry for travel easy.
In a fit of fancy, Zishu urged his horse up into a thrilling canter. The wind rushed past his face, still cool but warmed by the sun, and stung at his eyes. He felt a slight burn in his thighs from maintaining his posture above the saddle. Ideally, he would have been wearing something more suited to riding, as his ratty cravat had escaped its knot and waved wildly in his face, but he didn’t care much for appearances at the moment.
He had just worked the horse up to a light lather before he came up to an intersecting road hosting a tall, open topped phaeton with yellow wheels and two occupants watching him approach. Pulling back on the reins gently, Zishu brought his mount to a trot and then back down to a walk as they near the others. Unfortunately, he was far too close to escape when he saw the familiar faces of the other personages.
“Master Wen!” Cried the girl from her seat. She was holding a lovely parasol over her pale face, but as Zishu neared, she brandished it more like regimental sabre than a ladies accessory in his direction. “It's that sick man from town!”
The gentleman, his hands steady on the reins of his matching chestnuts, tipped his head at Zishu, “God must have it his plan that we meet again, sir!”
Zishu slowed his horse to a stop near the carriage and offered the barest minimum of a greeting.
“It seems as though we are fated to introduce ourselves,” the man said despite Zishu’s uninterested manners. It was horribly presumptuous of him and Zishu barely resisted leaving right then and there. “Wen, Kexing at your service.” He motioned to his companion. “And my ward, Miss. Gu Xiang.”
Zishu had no other choice to give a name as well and he decided to withhold his real identity. He had come here to be free of this societal folly. He nodded stiffly from his seat. “ Zhou Xu.”
“A pleasure, I’m sure!” Mr. Wen crowed, a wide smile stretched across his face. He had tied his cravat in a new knot today, Zishu noticed, and his waistcoat was much more appropriate for an afternoon promenade, with its teal color against the dark blue of his jacket, than his ostentatious outfit from earlier.
Mr. Wen released the tension of the reins of the horses just enough that they pulled up even with Zishu’s mount. “I must say that you have a fine seat, Mr. Zhou. As fine as any in the country! I am curious as to how you acquired such skills. It is rare to find a gentleman whose talent surpasses his ability to tout theoretical knowledge about the subject.”
Zishu scoffed in derision despite his better sense. It seemed, for all this man’s bawdy appearance, he has some education after all. “Nowhere special, I assure you,” he said before he bowed his head. “Good day, Miss. Gu. Mr. Wen.”
Miss. Gu’s face rippled as if she wanted to frown but she managed to hold back. “Good bye,” she says.
Mr. Wen tipped his hat again, the smile still on his face. “Good day, Mr. Zhou. I hope that God will find it for us to meet again soon!”
Without another glance, Zishu urged his horse forward. Thankfully, he did not have the misfortune of discovering that himself and Mr. Wen were traveling in the same direction.
It wasn’t long before the Manor came into view. As its name suggested, the house itself looked out over a large, placid lake. Gentle slopes of manicured lawn dipped to the water directly which gave it a rather man-made, although beautiful, appearance. It was a far cry from the wild wilderness of flowering trees and catkin-filled lakes surrounding the Four Seasons Manor.
A groom took his horse with an odd look but said nothing. Zishu knew he was bordering on the edge of propriety with the lateness of his call if the progress of the sun was any indication. However, the Butler raised an eyebrow at this appearance moresoe than his address.
“Unfortunately, Young Master Cheng Ling has gone out this morning, sir.” The Butler, a Mr. Li, said. He did not appear to be lying, as instead of an audience in the drawing room, he offered Zishu a chance to wash up and join Master Cheng Ling for luncheon when he returned. It seemed Zishu’s arrival was at least somewhat anticipated.
He was shown to a simply furnished room and told his horse will be stabled for the time being. A maid brought a water pitcher and basin. She told him that luncheon will be served in about an hour's time before she left him to his privacy.
Left on his own, he took full advantage of the water and the soft towel. He was tempted by the comfortable looking feather bed, but one look down at his dirty jacket inspired too much guilt for the house staff. Instead, he took a seat at the writing desk and ran his fingers over the paper and inks provided. For a moment, he considered composing a letter but remembered that he didn’t have anyone in particular to address it to. The thought made him melancholy and he moved to peer out the window instead of which he had a clear view of the front drive.
A bustle of activity at the front door pulled his attention. A large, richly decorated baroque box had pulled up at some point since he had arrived. He watched as servants ran back and forth from the house to the carriage carrying trunks of various sizes and other traveling items. At one point, the Butler came out to direct the activity, but his words left little impression as the chaos continued.
Various members, of whom he assumed were the family themselves, joined the mayhem. A tall, well dressed man with a portly build escorted an equally well appointed lady from the Manor door to the carriage. He deposited her inside by opening the doors himself and helping her up the high step by offering his arm. The other servants barely noticed as they continued to strap down cases and ready the horses for departure.
Two other men exited the house afterwards. One looked quite similar to that Young Master so Zishu assumed he was his older brother. The young man’s face was red in anger and he gesticulated wildly as he spoke. Some of the words floated up to Zishu’s vantage point.
“...Never been so disgusted in my life. This is highly unorthodox. Even for a snake such as yourself.”
The older man, the Young Master’s father, turned back to the other two. Zishu saw that his face was pale in antithesis to his son. “Cheng Feng, enough. There is no recourse.”
Only one person in the play looked happy with the situation. The last gentleman smiled at the Manor master and tipped his comically tall hat, his expression filled with sadistic glee. “I am simply here to deliver the news, Lord Zhang.”
“Father,” the young man interjects. “Not in front of my mother. Please.” He steps in front of his father, blocking off the conversation to just them. “Cheng Ling has not returned yet.”
Zishu spun about from the window, and hastened to button up his faded waistcoat from when he had opened it to wipe down the sweat from his neck. He feels for the letter hidden within the inner pocket. Distance drowned out the rest of the conversation. Obviously, he had come at the wrong time and should leave immediately. He strode to the door in a few steps. Voices echoed up from the ground floor in a panic so Zishu avoided the main staircase and searched for one in the back of the house instead. Thankfully, he came across one quickly and made for an exit. It would look suspicious if he were sighted but the halls were empty. Whatever this family was caught up in, he wanted to avoid any participation in it.
Outside, he glanced around the formal gardens for the sight of the stable at which to reclaim his horse. He found the kitchen garden quickly enough and had just spotted the woodshed when a flash of a pale face grabbed his attention from behind the climbing beans.
“Sir!” The boy exclaimed. He jumped out from around the vegetables. His hair was in disarray and host to a fist-full of leaves, and his clothes were smudged with dirt.
Zishu sighed. “You! Your parents must be looking for you. They’re readying to leave.”
The boy shook his head with such a force that he stumbled. “They told me that when that man comes to visit, that I’m not to come inside. Father says that-”
“Young Master Zhang!”
Hasty footsteps broke up their meeting as the Butler found them, and he man’s face crumpled with relief. He braced himself with hands on the boy’s shoulders, completely out of breath. “There you are! Your mother was terribly worried.”
The boy nodded fervently. “I am well,” he assured the older man.
The Butler's face fell grave. “My Master has received some news. He will away.” The man paused, his hoary eyebrows furrowed. He glanced back at the house and then at Zishu in consideration.
“Away?” the boy echoed, clearly shocked.
To Zishu, the Butler said, “My Young Master Cheng Ling needs an escort to Bath. To a Mr. Jing Zhao. He is a dear friend of my Master and will know how to best proceed. I will send an express to him with news on your arrival.” He spun the boy around and pushed him forward in Zishu’s direction.
“Where is my father going?” The boy asked, weakly. “And what of my Mother and Cheng Feng? Surely they are not leaving as well?”
The sound of agitated horses and the loud exclamations of the servants could be heard from the front of the house. “I am a stranger,” Zishu said, “There must be someone-”
The Butler pushed the boy forward. “My Master is going away on urgent business. Young Master Zhang, this is Mr. Zhou.”
Zishu suddenly understood that he did not have the full picture of the situation. The Butler seemed desperate. The man’s eyes flicked back and forth to the house as sweat beaded on his forehead.
The boy swayed on his feet with a pale face. “Yes,” he said in a daze, “We have been acquainted.”
How was it that Zishu found himself in such a situation? He yearned only for a warm place to sleep and the consolation of a full bottle in his hand. Yet, here he was dragged again into the machinations of society.
The boy craned his neck to look over his shoulder at the Butler. “Li, I don’t understand. Why must I away?”
The Butler ignored him in favor of beseeching Zishu again. “This Young Master shouldn’t be caught up in the folly of adults, Mr. Zhou. I have served this family for fifteen years at Butler and even more before those as a footman. The accusations directed at them this afternoon have no validity.” The man stood up taller and puffed out his chest. “I have served with honor and loyalty and have received loyalty in return. I could have given my allegiance to no better family.”
“Li,” the boy sniffed. “Please don’t force me to go.”
Zishu sighed, annoyed at his circumstances. Blackmail, then, it must have been. The right words in the right mouths would bring down a reputation faster than a shot out of cannon. Society did not care too much in the end if the rumors ended up being true or not. Afterall, hadn’t Zishu just spent years exploring the same soft underbelly of the ton ? He ground his teeth. “Consider this repayment for your kindness. I will escort the boy to his Bath. That is all.”
The Butler set them off in the direction of the stable, Zishu pushing a wobbly Young Master Zhang along. Just as he is helping the boy up onto his horse, he spotted a yellow-wheeled phaeton rounding the corner along the main drive towards the direction of the main road.