Chapter 9: Meeting Little Fu Niang at the Bookshop

Wei Nisheng wandered through the capital for a long time before Wei An asked, “Second Young Master, shall we go back?”

“No.” Nisheng shook his head. “It’s not often I get out. There’s something else I need to do.”

Though he had come from another world, what he knew of Great Zhou amounted to a few scraps gathered in the Wei residence. Much about the dynasty was a mystery to him. To survive in this age, he first needed to understand what sort of age it was.

“Grandpa Wei An, is there a bookshop nearby?”

“A bookshop? You want to buy books?”

Wei An paused, a flash of delight in his eyes. On the street he had worried that all the excitement would dazzle the boy. However precocious, Nisheng was still a child. After ten years indoors, how could he fail to be tempted by all these new sights? That was why Wei An had suggested going home. He hadn’t expected the boy still to be thinking of his studies.

Old master, your grandson has the makings of a scholar too!

“Uncle Wei, what are you saying? Of course I want to buy and read books at a bookshop.”

“That’s right. Study! You must study!”

Before Nisheng could say another word, Wei An seized him and hurried him through two streets, leaving Cui Fu staring after them.

Was that old fellow really in his forties?

……

Wei An soon brought Nisheng to a sizable shop with a black signboard bearing gold characters: Jixian Bookshop. Shelves filled the interior, and the scent of ink reached them through the door curtain. Plenty of customers were choosing books, occasionally taking one down, turning a few pages and putting it back.

A shop assistant hurried over with a smile. “What would you like, young master? The primers are on your left. Are you looking for—”

“History books. Do you have any?”

The assistant blinked. Weren’t children usually brought in for primers? This one had asked for history straight away.

“Yes, yes. This way, please. They’re on these shelves.”

Nisheng scanned the titles: Geography of Great Zhou, Collected Institutions of Great Zhou, Annals of the Founding Emperor, Veritable Records of Emperor Taizong. He pulled out several, crouched where he was and began reading.

The assistant opened his mouth to make a recommendation, but Wei An quietly handed him a few copper coins. “Let our young master read in peace for a while. We won’t hold up your business.”

The assistant took the money and went to attend to other customers. Nisheng paid them no attention; his eyes were already on the page.

The Geography recorded that Great Zhou had been founded after the Tang and had stood for 143 years. It had northern and southern capitals: the founding emperor had defended Beijing against the Khitans, while Taizong had settled peacefully in Nanjing. Its territory now extended east to Liaodong, west to Jiayu and south to Qiong…

“East to Liaodong… Isn’t that roughly the territory of the mid-Ming in my old world?” The two capitals and thirteen provinces that the young grand secretary had carried on his shoulders.

Having established the borders, he turned a few pages and picked up the Annals of the Founding Emperor. He didn’t particularly want to read it. His childhood tutor had praised the founder so often that he was sick of hearing about him. What he really wanted to know was whether the lyric poets and famous works of his former life existed here.

He read on, line by line, until his finger stopped.

“In the twelfth year of the founding emperor, generals were sent against Southern Tang. They took Jinling and executed its ruler’s entire family. Southern Tang fell. The Qian family of Wuyue, alarmed, surrendered their territory and submitted.”

Executed the ruler’s entire family?

Nisheng stared. In history, after Southern Tang fell, Li Yu had been taken captive to Bianjing and made Marquis of Disobedience. He lived in humiliation for several years before Emperor Taizong of Song poisoned him. Here, before he even had his turn on the throne, had he been swept up and executed with the rest of his family?

Nisheng flipped rapidly through the remaining pages, then got up and searched other histories, literary collections and books of poetry criticism.

There were no lyrics by Li Yu. No “When will the spring flowers and autumn moon end?” No “a river of spring water flowing east.” No Su Shi of the Northern Song, no Fan Zhongyan, Yan Shu, Yan Jidao or Liu Yong. Not one of the names so familiar from his old life appeared.

The only one he recognized was Kou Zhun, grand secretary under Great Zhou’s Taizong. But he appeared in histories as a minister, with a long list of achievements and no poems or lyrics.

Nisheng closed the book and took a deep breath. So Great Zhou was a fork in history? After the upheaval of the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms, this dynasty had risen in their place: an imagined empire with an economy and literary culture like the Song, but territory and official institutions like the Ming.

He crouched there for a long moment, book in hand.

Then a soft voice beside him asked, “What are you reading?”

He looked up. A little girl stood next to him, her head tilted curiously. Seven or eight years old, she wore a pale yellow padded dress under a red cloak trimmed at the collar and cuffs with snowy rabbit fur. The fur framed her fair, plump face like a freshly steamed bun. Her dark eyes were bright with curiosity.

Startled, Nisheng blurted out, “Where did this little meat bun come from?”

The girl blinked. Apparently she had heard the comparison at home before, because she puffed out her cheeks, making her face rounder still. “Y-you’re calling me names! You’re the little meat bun! Your whole family is!”

Nisheng realized what he had said and quickly apologized. She wasn’t one to hold a grudge, and his good looks persuaded her to forgive him. She leaned closer to peer at the book.

“What are you reading so intently? A new collection of lyrics? Or Tang poetry?”

She looked more closely, and her face fell. “The history of Great Zhou? Why read that? It’s so boring! A poetry collection would be better. Or Li Xinzi’s latest lyrics.”

Li Xinzi was a currently popular lyric poet of the delicate school, especially beloved by girls. Nisheng couldn’t help smiling at her look of disgust. The little meat bun was rather entertaining.

“Oh! Which family are you from? Why haven’t I seen you before?”

“The Wei family.”

“The Wei family?” She blinked and tilted her head. “You’re a Wei young master? Impossible! The eldest son of the Wei family is plain-looking. You’re so handsome—how could you be one of them?”

Nisheng smiled faintly. “The plain-looking one is my elder brother. I’m the second son. I don’t go out much.”

“Oh!” Understanding dawned, followed by another question. “Then what’s your name?”

“Wei Nisheng.”

She frowned. “That’s a strange name. What does it mean?”

Nisheng fell silent. Looking at her innocent face, he didn’t know why, but words he never usually spoke came out.

“My mother died giving birth to me, and my grandfather died too. Father said I was born backward and brought death to my family, so he named me Nisheng.”

He spoke calmly, as if telling someone else’s story. The girl stared in surprise. Then she patted his shoulder and said earnestly, “Why would you think that?

“Your mother must have loved you! She tried so hard to bring you into the world. How can you say you brought death to your family?” Her little face was solemn. “My mother says having a baby hurts terribly, and every mother risks her life to give birth. If your mother knew you talked about yourself that way, she’d be sad and worried.”

It was Nisheng’s turn to stare. Looking at the round-faced girl, he smiled from the heart. “You’re right.”

“Mm!” Seeing him smile, she smiled too, her eyes curving into crescents.

“Now you know my name. To be fair, what should I call you?”

She blinked, suddenly shy, and twisted the corner of her clothes. “Grandfather says girls shouldn’t tell boys their names just like that… But since you’re handsome, you can call me Fu Niang.”

“Fu Niang?” Her shyness and attempt at generosity nearly made him laugh again. She liked a pretty face, and she certainly looked blessed with good fortune.

“Yes! That’s what Grandfather calls me at home.”

“All right, Fu Niang.” He nodded. “I’m Wei Nisheng. Will you remember?”

“I will!” She nodded vigorously, smiling. “Wei. Ni. Sheng.”

A voice called from a distance. “Young miss! Young miss, where are you?”

Fu Niang stuck out her tongue and waved. “The old maid from home is looking for me. I have to go!”

She ran out, her red cloak flashing at the door before she disappeared into the crowd. Nisheng stood looking after her for a long time. That little meat bun…

After Fu Niang left, he stayed in the shop another half hour. This time he went to the classics shelves and chose carefully: the Book of Documents, the Book of Rites, a mathematical classic, the Zuo Commentary and the Gongyang Commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals. All five were required reading for the autumn examination.

He carried them to the counter. The assistant calculated the price and looked up. “Three taels and eight qian altogether.”

Expensive. But books were a necessity.

“Second Young Master, books are beyond price,” Wei An said. “The old master never complained about the cost when he bought them.”

“Uncle Wei, is it possible Grandfather was buying the only surviving copies of works by great scholars of the previous dynasty?”