Fortune 014: Daily Life

Fine, snow-white sandalwood powder was pressed into a miniature, jade-like mountain in the ancient bronze censer; small pieces of agarwood were ground until fine, then poured with a careful shake into the incense mold, creating an elegant, evocative cloud atop that snowy mountain.

As the incense smoke curled upward, a tranquil, subtly sweet fragrance spread throughout the room, prompting Chi You to emit a satisfied sigh from deep in his throat.

“Qing He, your craft is improving.”

Qing He closed the lid of the censer with gentle hands, bowing gracefully. “Thank you for your praise, Master.”

Outside, daylight shone through light rain that fell artfully on the bluestone slabs and clear pond, their rhythmic pattering blending with the fragrance inside to evoke a sense of absolute comfort.

Chi You, holding a scroll, was thoroughly absorbed in his reading when something caught at his nose. “…Hm?”

Qing He had noticed it as well.

The new scent, mixed with the wind, invaded so forcefully that it overwhelmed the agarwood, filling the house with an indescribable aroma.

If one had to name it, it was as if the family chef was simmering a bowl of braised pork—delicious and mouthwatering.

Chi You tossed aside his scroll and was about to bid Qing He to investigate who was causing trouble when, not far off, the door of the eastern wing creaked open. Nan Shi, still in his pajamas, emerged clutching something steaming. He sat himself under the eaves and, completely at ease, began eating in the cool morning breeze and drizzle.

With Nan Shi’s appearance, that strange, meaty aroma became even more intense.

Nan Shi slurped several mouthfuls of Kang Shi Fu braised beef noodles and downed half the soup, sighing with contentment.

His senior brother’s courtyard was devoid of air conditioning, but indoors it felt like spring, leaving him sweaty after a night’s sleep, stifled—and hungry to boot. Seeing the rain outside, he had simply made a bowl of instant noodles and brought them out to eat.

Piping hot noodles paired perfectly with cool, misty weather.

—As for the instant noodles, those were naturally among the daily necessities Qing Lan had diligently packed for him.

Nan Shi was halfway through his meal when he realized someone was watching. Looking up, he saw his senior brother at the window and called with a bright smile, “Good morning, senior brother, have you eaten?”

Chi You: “…”

Chi You, cold and merciless, ordered Qing He to close the window.

This cold rejection didn’t faze Nan Shi—he just resumed eating. If there was anything wrong with instant noodles, it was that the braised beef never actually came with beef. Just as he thought this, Qing He approached and bowed. “Young master, forgive my discourtesy.”

“Huh?” Before Nan Shi knew what was happening, Qing He had whisked the half-eaten noodles from his grasp. “Qing Lan will soon bring you a proper breakfast, young master.”

…What the hell kind of operation is this???

“Why did you take my noodles?”

“It’s the master’s order.”

Nan Shi grumbled, “If my brother wanted noodles, there are still unopened packs in my room—I can make a new bowl. Why give him my leftovers—are we that poor?”

Even Qing He, seasoned as she was, almost stumbled, her polite smile freezing on her lips.

“Master ordered all such items to be thrown away—he forbids them in the home ever again,” Qing He explained.

Nan Shi: “…Fine.”

He had barely finished before Qing Lan appeared at the end of the corridor. Though seemingly unhurried, she reached his side in moments, bowed, and placed a fresh bowl before him.

It was plain noodles in clear broth: “guang mian”—the type with nothing but noodles and soup.

Not even as good as instant noodles! Even those came with a freeze-dried vegetable packet!

Nan Shi stared at Qing Lan, aggrieved, while Qing He, with ethereal grace, whisked his bowl away. Qing Lan smiled softly, “I’m sorry, young master—the master always burns incense at this hour, and I forgot to remind you.”

“…Never mind, it’s not your fault. Go on.” Nan Shi picked up the bowl and dug in; after a couple of bites, his chopsticks struck something reddish brown at the bottom. Scooping further, he found the entire base lined with chunks of braised beef.

Now it was truly braised beef noodles—with actual beef.

Deeply moved, Nan Shi savored the meat. So his senior brother was a good man after all!

After breakfast, Nan Shi fetched his keys and set off for work. As he reached the parking lot, he found Qing He waiting by his car.

“Qing He?”

“Young master.” Qing He bowed and presented a red cloth bundle to Nan Shi. “The master asked me to bring this to you.”

“Oh? Go on.” Nan Shi took the bundle, unwrapped it in a few deft motions, and revealed an authentic tortoiseshell, different from his previous turtle shell—its touch was smooth and warm as jade, clearly an antique.

Qing He, ever composed, recited, “The master says, if you need anything in the future, ask him directly. Using a turtle shell doesn’t shame you, but it does shame him.”

“…But my brother—” Nan Shi very wisely swallowed the words “knows jack,” and refrained from grumbling about Chi You. “Turtles are protected animals now; it’s illegal to kill them. I just thought the shell would serve in a pinch…”

“Young master, please finish early today. Steward Zhou is bringing a new servant to start work and requests your review.”

Nan Shi blinked. “Why’s that my business?”

Surely he wasn’t expected to cast a hexagram to check if the recruit was honest?

And since when did his family hire people? How? Hell-Boss Direct? And if it’s a ghost, what’s he supposed to review?

Purely meant to give him a scare, no doubt.

Qing He gave no answer, only bowed and left.

Unable to vent his frustration, Nan Shi tossed the tortoiseshell onto the passenger seat and rolled his eyes so hard he could see the sky.

---

Perhaps thanks to the light rain, the pedestrian street was already thronged with young visitors—probably a school group on an excursion.

As soon as Nan Shi opened up shop, the array of delicate trinkets drew in groups of girls. They crowded in, giggling as they tried this and that, shelling out money with such delight that Nan Shi’s mood improved instantly.

A great start; business looked promising today.

Before long, a familiar customer arrived—Mr. Wang, who’d inquired about the inkstones before.

“Hello.” Nan Shi stood behind the counter, projecting utmost professionalism. “How can I help you?”

Old Wang had a middle-aged man in tow. “Boss, is that box of inkstones still here? I brought my friend to take a look.”

At that, Nan Shi’s heart thudded—he’d forgotten something! He’d taken the inkstones home intending to ask his brother if they were saleable, but after being dragged to Qingyun Temple, he’d forgotten them in the car.

They shouldn’t be lost—Qing Lan must have stashed them somewhere.

“Sorry, that box of inkstones is put away and not in the shop right now,” Nan Shi replied.

Wang looked disappointed. “Too bad. Old Zhou, guess we’ll have to come back another time.”

The man called Old Zhou looked to be just over forty, genteel, with gold-rimmed glasses perched on his high-bridged nose and a refined air about him. He nodded, “Seems it isn’t meant to be. Since we’re here, let’s look around.”

Old Wang tugged at his sleeve, casting a meaningful glance, but Old Zhou simply wandered deeper into the shop.

Nan Shi didn’t follow and merely called politely from a distance, “Make yourself at home.”

He then sat down and turned his attention to tinkering with his incense burner—he knew how to work fine incense, but his interest had faded after a while. Having heard about it this morning in Chi You’s courtyard, he was newly inspired.

Of course, he had none of the top-shelf agarwood, ambergris, or the like; genuine top-grade agarwood costs thousands per gram. He settled for some golden sandalwood from India—good enough for play.

This was from his old stash, well-sealed; otherwise, in S City’s damp climate, it wouldn’t have lasted three months.

Patiently, Nan Shi ground the golden sandalwood into fine brown powder. It took multiple steps to ensure the texture was just right.

Old Wang, seeing Nan Shi absorbed elsewhere, said quietly, “I was signaling you that over here—this is all new stock.”

“New stock” meant modern crafts. For an antique shop to be filled entirely with new stock and not a single “open-door” piece was a bit unseemly.

“Open-door” meant genuine antiques.

In fairness, this was a bit unjust—Nan Shi’s shop did have some real pieces, just none out on display today.

Old Zhou inspected the shelves and nodded—indeed.

Realizing this, the two turned to leave. Old Wang was about to say goodbye when Old Zhou suddenly murmured, “Wait—Wang, even you can miss things. Look at the incense burner in the young boss’s hands.”

Wang looked, seeing only a rusted incense burner with a certain artistic patina in Nan Shi’s grasp. He shook his head. “I can’t tell.”

Old Zhou’s curiosity was piqued; he approached Nan Shi directly. “Boss, what’s the story with that incense burner?”

Nan Shi was at a critical moment, head down. “Picked it up at the vegetable market next door.”

His hand twitched, and the golden brown powder sifted through the mold onto the snow-white ash, forming a perfect “Longevity” character—precisely placed, not a grain out of line.

He touched a flame to the pattern, and fragrant smoke rose, filling the room.

“That’s skillful!” Old Zhou praised him. “Didn’t expect a boss so young to have an eye for incense.”

Flattered, Nan Shi’s day brightened. “You’re too kind—I’m just playing around.”

“You wanted to see the incense burner? Please, have a look.”

He pushed the burner forward, but Old Zhou didn’t pick it up. Instead, he closed his eyes and savored the scent, hands in his pockets. “No rush. I’d rather enjoy a cup of your tea first.”

“Gladly.” Nan Shi smiled, feeling a rare sense of camaraderie—after all, no one likes finally making something only to have someone interrupt before savoring it.

Old Wang found a seat as well, while Nan Shi slipped into the back to fetch the good tea.

“What’s the trick here?” Old Wang couldn’t spot anything unusual and murmured quickly.

“It seems like a fresh find,” Old Zhou replied, studying closely. “Perhaps the young boss got lucky.”

“So why did you say it aloud just now?”

“I don’t think he’s recognized it himself,” Old Zhou said. At that moment, Nan Shi returned with the tea, and Old Zhou offered a faint smile, warning Old Wang into silence.

After all, it’s not about affording it; anyone who lands a lucky find feels entitled to celebrate a bit.