Time Is Slow - Chapter 43

Binglu looked completely confused by the question. 

“There’s no mistake. Once my lady finished writing, I packed it up right away.”

Hearing that, Old Madam Deng glanced again at the scripture in her hand and couldn’t help but rub her eyes.

Could it be that I’m getting too old and my vision’s going bad?

Although Old Madam Deng had raised two sons who passed the imperial exams with honors, she herself was no literary talent. Having been widowed early and raising her sons alone, she’d never had time or interest for poetry or the arts, and had no deep knowledge of calligraphy or painting. But she could still recognize Master Qiao’s handwriting—who in the capital couldn’t? The old master was just that famous.

“So you’re saying… this was written by your young lady?”

Binglu nodded like a pecking chick. 

“Yes, yes.” However, something felt off. 

Wasn’t she supposed to be praising it?

While the little maid was still puzzled over the reaction, Old Madam Deng stood up abruptly. 

“To Yahe Courtyard!”

Binglu froze.

Qingyun gave her a sidelong glance, a sneer playing on her lips.

Third Miss really went all out to please the Old Madam, but did she think everyone else was a fool? Even I, a mere maid, can tell this handwriting is suspiciously beautiful. Does she think the Old Madam wouldn’t notice?

To try something this bold and fake right to her face, of course the Old Madam’s furious!

Still clueless, Binglu followed Old Madam Deng back toward the western wing of Yahe Courtyard.

After days of gloomy rain, today had finally cleared up. Having finished copying her scriptures, Qiao Zhao took a walk in the courtyard to unwind.

As she walked by the base of the wall, she suddenly crouched down and touched a tiny wild plant growing beneath the pomegranate tree.

Ah Zhu, the quiet maid following behind her, noticed the little plant’s thick, plump leaves and was curious, but being naturally reserved, she didn’t ask about it the way Binglu might have.

Qiao Zhao looked up and smiled. 

“Ah Zhu, go fetch me the garden spade. I want to move this plant.”

“Alright.” Ah Zhu didn’t question her, just turned quietly and went inside.

When Old Madam Deng entered the courtyard, she saw her granddaughter crouched beneath the pomegranate tree, digging at the roots with a garden spade.

The sight made her forget her original purpose. 

he walked over and asked, “What are you doing, Third Girl?”

To her, this wasn’t anything strange. However, if the noble lady from the Eastern Residence saw it, she would probably exclaim that Qiao Zhao was acting crude and improper.

Qiao Zhao looked up with a smile. 

“I’m relocating this plant. It’s being blocked by the pomegranate tree and can’t grow well.”

Old Madam Deng laughed. 

“It’s just a weed, does it really need a better home? Is it suffering under the pomegranate tree?”

Qiao Zhao had already carefully dug up the plant and replied seriously, “The pomegranates are delicious, but this plant is also useful.”

“Oh? And what use could it possibly have?”

“This is bloodroot herb. It stops bleeding and relieves pain. Don’t you think that’s useful, Grandmother?”

Old Madam Deng looked again at the unremarkable little wild plant in Qiao Zhao’s hand, surprise flickering in her eyes. However, she was more surprised at her granddaughter’s knowledge about the plant. 

She asked curiously, “How do you know that it stops bleeding and relieves pain?”

“Grandpa Li taught me, on the way to the capital,” Qiao Zhao answered calmly.

She had never intended to pretend to be someone she wasn’t. Pretending for a moment was easy, but for a lifetime? Impossible. If she couldn’t live as her true self, what was the point of starting over?

Besides, there was a far more practical reason: the person she was supposed to imitate was too stupid. Pretending to be her would be more work, not less.

And in truth, when things were moving in a positive direction, people were happy to accept new versions of the story as long as there was a reasonable explanation. In Great Liang, those who knew medicine were respected. Even the old nursemaids who had only basic medical knowledge held more status than ordinary servants in wealthy households. 

Old Madam Deng was surprised, but didn’t overthink it. 

She merely sighed, “So even Divine Doctor Li taught you these things.”

Qiao Zhao found a sunny spot and replanted the bloodroot herb, gave Ah Zhu a few instructions, then washed her hands and turned to respectfully salute Old Madam Deng.

“Grandmother, did you come to see me for something?”

“Er…” Old Madam Deng suddenly remembered her purpose, and looked a bit awkward.

Just now they’d been happily chatting about a wild plant. Wouldn’t it feel too abrupt to suddenly scold her?

“Ahem.” Old Madam Deng cleared her throat and reached out to take the scripture copy from Qingyun. Holding it up, she asked, “Third Girl, you’re really something, playing jokes on your grandmother like this. Why did you send Master Qiao’s calligraphy as your own scripture copy?”

Qiao Zhao blinked.

It seemed the young girl Qiao Zhao had misunderstood. This old madam wasn’t actually well-versed in calligraphy or painting.

But Qiao Zhao didn’t look down on Old Madam Deng for it. Her grandfather had taught her from the very beginning that the arts of music, chess, calligraphy, and painting were merely for cultivating the heart and mind. True learning should not be confined to these. If one became overly obsessed with them, they had already strayed from the right path.

“Grandmother, Master Qiao has never copied Buddhist scriptures,” Qiao Zhao said gently.

“So?” This time it was Old Madam Deng who blinked in confusion.

“So, this was copied by your granddaughter,” Qiao Zhao replied matter-of-factly. 

“Didn’t you give me Grandfather’s inkstone to encourage me to improve my handwriting?”

Old Madam Deng’s expression became downright colorful.

Come on now! If giving someone an inkstone could make them write like this, all the good inkstones in the capital would’ve been sold out ages ago.

“Grandmother, smell this—it still has the scent of fresh ink,” Qiao Zhao said.

Old Madam Deng actually lowered her head and took a sniff. The faint fragrance of ink lingered, and she found herself reluctantly believing her granddaughter. She looked at Qiao Zhao with astonishment. 

“Third Girl, when did you learn to write so beautifully?”

And don’t you dare say it’s because of the inkstone or I’ll lose it.

Qiao Zhao figured she should give Old Madam Deng a more reasonable explanation. With a perfectly innocent expression, she said, “Mother bought me many of Master Qiao’s calligraphy copybooks years ago so I could practice.”

Old Madam Deng’s mouth twitched.

She did remember that. But this girl’s handwriting had always been mediocre. Otherwise, why had the Eastern Residence mocked her so mercilessly back then?

Could it be that Third Girl’s been hiding her skills all along?

“Third Girl, if you’ve always been able to write this well, why didn’t you show it before?” Old Madam Deng probed.

“Uh… well, I was afraid Second Sister would get upset—just like Eldest Sister,” Qiao Zhao said with a cheerful smile.

To repay kindness with kindness is one thing. But if you repay resentment with kindness, how will you repay kindness?

She was never the type to confuse gratitude and grudges. Since the Eldest and Second Misses were so skilled at making false accusations, Qiao Zhao had no intention of playing the good girl.

That explanation convinced Old Madam Deng more than half.

The Eastern Residence had always been dominant. Although Old Madam Deng was no pushover herself, she’d had to consider her sons’ futures and the fact that her only grandson was still young, so she couldn’t afford to openly clash with Old Madam Jiang from the Eastern Residence.

Among the girls of the two households, the Second Miss was in a class of her own—. She was always doted on and flattered. The Eldest Miss, though clearly more talented in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, would somehow always be made to appear slightly inferior whenever they were in public together.

Old Madam Deng had noticed this over the years and felt even more sympathy for the Eldest Miss, who’d lost her mother young.

But now, who would’ve thought? The Third Miss was the same!

The old lady reached out and patted Qiao Zhao on the shoulder.

“There’s no need to hold back anymore. Grandmother would be happy to see you all grow into capable young women.”

After all, her eldest son was going to be stuck compiling history at the Hanlin Academy for the rest of his life. 

Whatever, let him be.