Chapter 60

Chen Dasheng had just come back to his room from his bath when he saw two great trays set out on the table, and beside them a big bundle he knew at one glance very well.

The bundle was surely sent by his wife. But the eye-smarting, jewel-bright things, one look told him, were plainly not from home.

They were accessories, the whole lot of them. Broad girdles of gold set with gems and jade and coral. Broad girdles of qilin-patterned colored jade. Girdles of gold set with pearls and tortoiseshell in a patchwork of flowers. Six-color scent bags of kesi. Six-color scent bags of cloud brocade. Fire strikers set with coral and jewels. Gold-mounted braid belts. Belt hooks of jade of every color. Girdle pendants of jade...

Chen Dasheng wiped his neck with a dry cloth, put one foot up on the step, and called out the door, "Wan Chunyang!"

At his call there came, from a little corner of the courtyard, a eunuch of thirty-odd, thin as a bamboo pole, all grins and smiles.

This was the man his teacher had arranged. So long as he was in the palace, Chen Dasheng was in his charge.

Wan Chunyang trotted over and said to Chen Dasheng with a fawning smile, "Little patriarch, you'll have heard the Emperor's spoken order?"

Chen Dasheng threw him a glance, turned and went in, and wouldn't spare the two trays of things a second look. Instead, all tenderness, he lifted the home-sent bundle and opened it, and took out his own new clothes, one piece at a time, and looked them lovingly over.

One look told him this needlework wasn't his wife's, but he was content all the same. His wife had been dragged, through him, into never getting one sound night's sleep. The madams and mistresses of the capital lived one kind of life, and his wife another.

Four whole sets of changes, this was, inside and out. And because his feet sweated freely, home had sent ten pairs of thin socks. How thoughtful it all was.

Chen Dasheng cherished everything home sent. On duty in attendance on the Emperor he wore the clothes the Bureau of Apparel made. But when he was with his teacher, the two of them both wore home's things, and as a rule neither of them cared to go anywhere grubby.

Wan Chunyang pointed, with a great show, at the trays on the table, and smiled at Chen Dasheng again.

Chen Dasheng had no wish to deal with him, and waved a vexed hand for him to take the things away and be quick.

What was on the table? He knew them for what they were now. Walking about the palace, front and rear, he often met the sons of the imperial clan, and of the maternal-kin houses, the Xiao, the Cao, the Feng, the Liu, the Yue, and the princes, and the princes' study companions. And what all these people wore, and trod in, and held in their hands, and looked at with their eyes, was all these very things.

In a certain circle they were only everyday matters, and no rare thing at all.

Last month Zheng Aman had turned about before him and had him guess how many peonies were embroidered on a little pouch no bigger than a palm, and how many kinds of stitch had gone into it. Chen Dasheng humored him with a word or two at random, and he proudly gave out the answer and went off. Mm, that little pouch had sixty-six peonies embroidered on it, in thirty-three kinds of stitch. Five embroiderers had done nothing else for a whole month but stitch this little bag, which couldn't hold five hundred cash.

But before long the sons of the imperial clan, within the palace and without, all had dainty little pouches. And then every young lord in all Yanjing, nay, in all the land, had to have a dainty pouch to hold his head up. Only Zheng Aman was put out. These days he wears no pouch at all, but hangs a little scent sachet woven of gold and silver thread, and changes his scent pill every day, and won't share the recipe, so that this time no one can copy it. And he is mightily pleased, and has those he thinks well of sniff and guess every day.

In a word, those people lived wearier lives than fighting a war. It was as if they were at war, a war with themselves, though what it was for he never quite made out, a kind of ledger of face... Mm, very foolish.

Chen Dasheng was an easily contented man. Now he had someone to see to his meals. He could eat as much as he liked, and order dishes besides, and had meat at every meal, and was new-clad within and without. And he dared ask for no more, as though to ask the least bit more would bring down the sundry retributions Granny spoke of: to be snatched away by a wicked dragon dropping out of the sky, or blasted to powder and shards by lightning of every fancy kind...

Besides his teacher, the one he now admired most was his own wife. Everything had fallen out just as she'd foretold. Though he often got rewards from the Emperor, the Dowager, and the consorts of the various palaces, and could have the Bureau of Apparel make him whatever he pleased, he stayed clean out of this battle of the young lords, and lived without the least weariness, and not a soul dared pick the smallest fault in him.

He was simply one who wore cloth!

His teacher, taking after him, became one who wore cloth too. And the seven old sabers of the Long Saber garrison walked out clean and neat, plain and honest, upright in their conduct, earnest at their duty. Not one of them would fawn on anyone, nor would one of them belittle anyone. They went by their own honest hearts and held their bowls by real skill, and in time even the civil officials came to like them, and not one man dared belittle them.

His teacher had put it well. This way suited very nicely, for a man without virtue, though you hang him about like a tree of jade, will still be looked down on by those who mean to look down on him.

Having sent the little eunuchs off to wash the clothes Chen Dasheng had changed out of, Wan Chunyang came in again, all smiles, to coax him. "Aiyo~ little patriarch, just have a look, do! At least pick one you like and put it on. It's all about, isn't it, that tomorrow you go to the Nation-Protecting Temple! And what sort of people go there? No end of the dog-eyed, look-down-your-nose kind... Don't our consorts feel for you? These are trifles. They say it's the new fashion in Yanjing these days, just wear one for the fun of it, and if you don't like it, give it away, that's fine too. They like to give, so you just receive."

There were times he felt quite hard done by. His wife hadn't so much as looked these feet over carefully.

Seeing that Wan Chunyang would not take the things away, Chen Dasheng knew what he was about. Surely it was the teacher again, pressing him to get used to such stuff.

He asked, helpless, "And who gave these?"

Had they been from the Dowager, or the senior consorts, they'd not have been set out so carelessly. There'd be thanks to render. Set out any old way meant they were from the consorts of the lesser palaces, and in his teacher's words, those women truly sought nothing. They gave things only to buy a little peace, and did it for the higher ones to see.

But since a person had given, you must remember what she was called. You needn't do anything to look after her, you couldn't, anyway, but at the least you had to know who she was.

Things were different now, after all, from before. He was the grandson Dowager Zheng was forever naming with fondness, and Attendant She's... ah, son? student? Sometimes Chen Dasheng didn't rightly know what he was himself.

Taking the rinse-water Wan Chunyang brought, Chen Dasheng rinsed his mouth and listened to the list of names. Unable to speak, he nodded to show he'd taken them in.

Wan Chunyang, waiting on him, laughed inside. His little patriarch had no notion at all how famous he was in Yanjing. There were many the Emperor held dear, Meng Dingchen, say, and old Earl Chang, and Grand Tutor Li, and yet none of them was so famous as Recorder Chen.

Early in the year, Consort Shun's eldest brother was ennobled, and sent him a card inviting him to drink. The little patriarch rarely cared to accept a favor, and disliked going anywhere at all. Off duty he read with the old patriarch, and grew vegetables with the old patriarch, and mended old books with the old patriarch... cooped up all the day, and finding it rich and savory even so, smiling from morning to night. Even the old Dowager said the whole of the child was at ease, a simple, clear-through good child.

It was the Emperor who said, in the end, that the man was no stranger to them. Just go and amuse himself a little. Cooped up at home all day, he'd grow mold.

And so he went.

Well and good! Go he did. Unable to arrive empty-handed and be discourteous, he laid down his congratulatory gift too: big cash wrapped in red paper, five hundred of them!

And that made him famous once and for all!

At least he was Attendant She's adopted son of his old age, and an official the Emperor held in his heart. Five hundred cash was five hundred cash. His being there at all beat everything else, didn't it?

But a few days on, the Cao house gave a feast, and the Emperor bade him go again. This time he flatly refused, and said straight out that he couldn't run to the gift money. His salary all went home, and his wife had given him five hundred cash of pocket money this month, so from now on he could go to just the one house a month.

And from that day his name quite eclipsed even old Earl Chang, who'd been beaten by his wife up on the roof.

He was well favored, and there was not a consort in the palace but doted on him and loved him as her own child. And when the old Dowager heard of it she was cross, and called him back and asked whether his wife was bullying him.

But this little patriarch, his mouth was full of how his wife was the best in all Liang. And not content with that, he reckoned the old Dowager an account: how much he earned, and how much the house had, and how many children he'd have by and by, and how much one child would cost... and then earnestly explained that his wife was hard-pressed, that raising children cost a great deal, that one must plan early, and that he meant to have at least eight brats.

He was so much in earnest about it that he sent the old Dowager and all the consorts into fits. But when they'd done laughing they doted on him the more, and all said he was the best man in all Liang, and of the most wife-cherishing sort besides, so that the Emperor grew jealous and green, and for a spell rewarded the rear palace no little, before he could snatch back the name of best in the world for himself.

There was no making out why the consorts should praise him so. But in short, from that time Recorder Chen threw open the gate of the palace's rewards, and whichever consort came by something good would subsidize him with it, just as one subsidizes one's own child.

There was no help for it. He was poor, and he had eight to raise.

The next morning early, Chen Dasheng rose, made up his own bed, and, as was his habit, swept the courtyard as well. Then, with the brothers, he took up his waist saber and went through the basic saber forms, a good few dozen runs of them together.

When they were all streaming with sweat, they went off each to change and wash. Then, spruce and lively, they all put on the indigo summer shirts that home had sent.

As they were about to set out, Wan Chunyang coaxed and pleaded until at last the lord, in passing, snatched one gold-inlaid gem jade-and-coral broad girdle off the tray and stuffed it up his sleeve, which counted as having "used" it.

No help for it. Wan Chunyang had to wait until he'd gone, and then, with his people, carry the two trays off to render the account to the old patriarch.

Chen Dasheng understood nothing of the palace's face games. But he had a fine method: what I don't understand I hand to one who does, and it all went up to his teacher. He came by no end of things, but never dared take one home. He was truly frightened by that sheep, and, fearing to beggar the house, could only leave them in the teacher's keeping.

Attendant She too wore plain dress today. Set his private stance aside, and Master Xuanshan's virtue did truly merit the name of an eminent monk, and so, out of respect, he too would wear plain dress seven days, to show it.

Attendant She had risen late, and was only now at his breakfast when Wan Chunyang arrived. Small steamed buns of the flour his daughter-in-law had dutifully sent, filled with pickled vegetable, not large, one bite to each, and yet he took his pleasure in them with great care, chewing slow and fine to savor every drop of the taste, three and five bites to a bun.

Eating happily, he looked up now and then, and, seeing Wan Chunyang and the two great trays of things, asked, "Whose gift?"

Wan Chunyang dared not grin and smile now. He bowed, all gravity, and answered, "Reporting to the old patriarch, those few kesi scent bags are the gift of Noble Lady Ye. Her natal house sent them up last month by the water route from Zhuoxing Prefecture, twelve chests of things they presented to the palace in all, and the scent bags came with them, the best of them picked out and sent over to the little patriarch."

Someone at his side took up a small tray, picked out six of the scent bags and set them in order, and brought them before Attendant She to see.

Wan Chunyang reported on. "The scent stuff inside I had Vice-Director Zhou of the Imperial Medical Academy examine one by one. It's scent pills of the common sorts, freesia, moon-peach, angelica and the like... but the new kesi is a thing seldom seen, a rare treasure. A piece like this, the old shops of Yanjing would sell for seventy strings."

Wan Chunyang nodded and added, "Just so. Even the consorts nowadays only make their scents from the stuffs the Bureau of Food's apothecary supplies."

Attendant She, feeling for his son as he did, swept his eyes over the things and knew their worth at a glance. He nodded slightly. "Put it on your little lord's account! Ai... all his private savings stored away with me, what a state of things!"

There was a streak of showing off in the old patriarch's tone, and Wan Chunyang played up to it. "That there is. The little lord's neither father nor mother left him, and only you to feel for him. The old lady at home is well on in years, and the little grandmother's run off her feet. Whom is he to lean on, if not you? The little lord wouldn't so much as look at them. He had me bring them straight to you."

Attendant She shook his head, helpless. "Still young, knows nothing of give and take. He'll have to be taught..." And, sweeping his eyes over the trash again, he said, "Hmph. They all take my Sheng'er for one who can't tell good ware from bad."

Wan Chunyang handed the things to the account-keeping eunuch, and followed close on Attendant She. "If it weren't for your forcing him, you could dump a mountain of gold and silver at his feet and the little lord wouldn't lower his head to look at it. But it's a comical thing. Just as he was leaving, I said, you're going out, little lord, you should at least wear one of them. And without a backward glance he grabbed one at random. And well, of the whole heap there were but two things worth a look, and he grabbed the very best of them."

Curious about every last thing his student-son did, Attendant She stopped and turned back. "Oh? And what did he grab?"

Wan Chunyang smiled. "A gold-inlaid gem jade-and-coral broad girdle, worth three hundred strings. The gift of Noble Lady Guo of Shulan Hall. The little lord's a born rich hand."

Attendant She laughed to hear it, and joked, "Born rich hand, is it, born to cut men down, more like. You never saw him on a battlefield... Shulan Hall, you say?" He stopped, and looked about him, and asked, "What's at Shulan Hall?"

Someone came up quickly and put in, all smiles, "No place of any note. Only some scallion orchids that are tended rather well, they're in bloom just now."

Attendant She nodded, and turned and sauntered off toward the Emperor. And, meeting the Emperor, said, "Ai! I hear Shulan Hall's scallion orchids have come out lovely!"

The Emperor too wore plain dress today, and had just been at his breakfast. Coming out to hear Attendant She say such a thing, he sighed, helpless. "Even to lay up private savings for your son, you needn't go peddling me day after day. Peddle me too much and I'm worth nothing. A sale every few days now, that's the good trade, isn't it? There's the old lady behind you still. Go and make up the balance off her? Truly, the old lady's flush, and doesn't want for money! She'd give anything to be peddled by you, over and over."

Attendant She would by no means take up that thread, and cut across it. "Have they left the palace yet, do you think?"

The Emperor, past all patience, only pointed a finger at him in the air.

Chen Dasheng had not left the palace yet. He'd only just come to the little half-hill where Consort Xiao kept her summer-palace quarters, and, reaching the door, chanced to meet the Second Prince, Yang Zhen.

This was a prince, and so of course Chen Dasheng stopped at once, and bowed and made his greeting. "Your servant salutes the Second Highness."

The Second Prince, Yang Zhen, was well spoken of everywhere, handsome, gentle and cultivated, and of a free, unclouded temper besides. And in the Emperor's founding of the realm he'd had, among all the princes, some real war merit to his name, so that the cry for him as Crown Prince ran high.

High or not, Chen Dasheng didn't much mind. He and his teacher had risen clean above all that long ago.

Seeing it was Chen Dasheng, Yang Zhen called to him warmly. "Ho, Feilian's early too. Still, it's our Sixth Immortal whose face is biggest of all. The whole lot of us come to fetch him."

Feilian was the courtesy name the Emperor had given Chen Dasheng. And a man having a courtesy name, for others to call him by his given name would be a discourtesy.

Chen Dasheng said, courteous and smiling, "There's no help for it. Don't fetch him, and turn round, and he's nowhere to be found."

And at that they laughed together, long since easy with one another.

The Emperor was a rough-grained man, and detested above all the old dynasty's fetters on natural family feeling. In the old dynasty, save on the great festivals, the emperor dined generally alone. Our present Emperor dreaded dining alone. And besides Attendant She, who was oftenest with him, he dearly loved to gather with his sons and his kin. Though they could not share one table now, but sat below him, a small table to each, that was good enough. And so the Second Prince had mooched no few of the Emperor's meals in Chen Dasheng's company.

Coming into the little hill palace, the Sixth Prince, Yang Qian, who'd long since worn out his patience with waiting, came hopping out in a rush. The child had no guile in him, and streaked out calling, "Second brother! Good day, second brother. Thank you, second brother, for coming to fetch..." And without the least hesitation he passed clean by his own blood brother and made straight for Chen Dasheng, with the look of a man meeting his own kin at last, after how many lives and ages. "Brother Feilian! Has the Lord of Heaven any word for you to bring me today?"

Ever since Chen Dasheng had been granted his courtesy name, the Sixth Prince had taken him for one of his own, one of his own after a fashion closer even than his own father. Feilian was the name of the God of Wind. The two of them were both immortals, and so, of course, of one company.

And from that time there was one strange new sight at the great south gate of the Liang palace, that went by the name of Old-Saber Chen sits blankly gazing at the lions, while the Sixth Immortal preaches to the empty air.

Chen Dasheng liked to sit behind the wall and stare blankly at the roaring stone lions. And the Sixth Immortal, finding no kindred soul in the whole palace, for everyone else fled the sight of him, had seized on this one Chen Feilian, and could spew and spatter beside him about immortal tales a good long while. Chen Dasheng was little traveled and had read little besides, and had a full curiosity toward all knowledge. So however long the Sixth Immortal talked, so long could he listen. Only, he disliked speaking, so the Sixth Immortal felt he was nattering at the air, and would go home and mutter to his mother, Consort Xiao, that it was as if there were no one there at all, like talking to empty space. And in time there grew up the tale of Old-Saber Chen and the lions, the Sixth Immortal and the air.

Seeing the Sixth Prince, Chen Dasheng greeted him, relaxed and natural. "Good day to you, Lianzhen Star-Lord."

Say it not so, and he'd be in for a vast and ancient tale of enthronement, all, at any rate, to prove that he was an immortal, and no child of this house.

The Sixth Prince remembered something of a sudden. "Oh, Brother Feilian, you must never call me by that name any longer. My immortal-seat clashes with the Second Prince's name, and I have already had myself transferred out of the fifth seat of the Dipper..." He nodded, and said, a shade bashful. "Ahem! I am now the Eighth Star-Lord of the Dipper, of the Cave of Brightness, the Outer Aid."

Chen Dasheng at once played up. "Then, good day to you, Star-Lord of the Outer Aid."

The Sixth Immortal was well pleased, and returned the courtesy at once. "Good day, Brother Feilian. And where do you raise your winds today? Have you an immortal tablet and imperial warrant for it? As it happens I've no sundry business today, and might go along with Brother Feilian..."

But before he'd done, the lovely lady up in the hall stamped her foot and shooed them off, urgent. "What hour is it now? Are the two of you drunk on your play-acting? Off with you, off, off. The old monk's long since been sealed in his jar over there. I doubt you'll even get there in time..."

Holding back his laughter, the Second Prince pulled the two of them along, and thought: in all the palace, high and low, there are but these two carefree souls, and true enough, they're a rare amusement.

Before the summer palace, for a prince's going forth is no small matter, both princes had four-horse carriages, and Chen Dasheng, least of them, might yet ride a two-horse: a specially handsome regalia granted him, and only for this once.

His carriage followed, meek and biddable, behind the princes' carriages and the carriage of Meng Dingchen of the Jiusi Hall.

The going forth of two princes made some stir, and to show the imperial house's regard for the Nation-Protecting Temple, the regalia this time was full. The garrison sent two shifts, some three hundred men, to escort. Eight street-clearing carts went ahead, with the drums and pipes to match behind, and yellow banners, and the sky-measuring carriages close after. And there were feather canopies, and flowery parasols, and standards and pennons, and ceremonial fans crowding thick about the carriages...

Chen Dasheng's carriage was not for his own use, but shared with the brothers. And so, large as it was, it was a touch crowded. Not two words had passed before a little eunuch came over smiling with an invitation: the road was not a near one, and the Second Highness begged the Recorder to come talk up front.

Had it been the old dynasty's regalia, one would have ridden an open bright carriage with nothing screening it round, and so been far less at one's ease. But this was only the second year, and for safety's sake the imperial house now traveled in arched carriages screened on all four sides.

Chen Dasheng, not overthinking it, went along with the little eunuch and got up into the Second Highness's carriage ahead. And lifting the curtain and looking in, well! Meng Dingchen and the Sixth Immortal were both in here.

The Sixth Immortal smiled to see him, and scooted his chubby self over to one side. "Feilian, sit with me!"

Chen Dasheng smiled, twitched aside his robe and sat frankly down beside him, facing the Second Prince and Meng Dingchen across the way.

He'd no sooner settled than the drums and music struck up outside, and they slowly began to move.

Chen Dasheng had gone out only with the Emperor before, and that once he'd been too nervous to dare look about. But this time he lifted the curtain and looked a good while before he turned and said, in earnest, "There seem to be a deal more of these parasols and canopies than at the Emperor's going forth."

Meng Dingchen and the Second Prince traded a look, and laughed together.

Then Meng Dingchen explained, "The Recorder doesn't know it. Our Emperor's a sparing man, and will naturally not spend where he needn't. But the North Nation-Protecting Temple has stood near a thousand years, and stands very high in the folk's regard besides. Master Xuanshan was compassionate of heart and had believers in plenty, so of course we must render it a due measure of respect."

Today, oddly, the Sixth Immortal hadn't said one word, and Chen Dasheng turned to look, and the Sixth Immortal pouted. "We're not the same as them, we're Star-Lords of the Daoist gate!"

Oh, so that was it. These few days he was playing a Daoist immortal.

Chen Dasheng held back a laugh and nodded. But, full of curiosity about the Nation-Protecting Temple, he went on to ask Meng Dingchen, "I've long heard the Master came out of the South Nation-Protecting Temple, and the two were one and the same to begin with. How is it, then, that the North Nation-Protecting Temple's fame stands so high?"

The words went straight to the two men opposite. The Second Prince pouted first, and then said, with some forbearance, "Ai, that's a long tale. Recorder, do you know that a temple, besides the burning of incense and the worship of the Buddha, has, in truth, another use?"

Chen Dasheng did not, of course, and shook his head.

The Second Prince explained it to him, fine and careful. "The truth is, this matter must begin with the number of a thousand years. Recorder, you likely don't know, from a thousand years ago down to now, this land of ours has passed through five changes of dynasty, one after another..."

Chen Dasheng nodded. "Mm, the teacher's spoken of that, said the shortest dynasty lasted but thirty-seven years."

Seeing that he knew it, the Second Prince went round the histories of the several ages and came straight to the heart of it. "The truth is, our land has a written history of some thousands of years. And yet, until a thousand years ago, whenever a change of dynasty came about, it came with some great calamity of heaven or of men that overturned the realm. And so the classics and the histories, and the arts of farming and of the crafts, were forever being swept up in it, and made to break off, lost outright, even, in the generations."

Here the Second Prince's throat went dry, and he took up his tea and drank a mouthful before he went on. "Once a new dynasty is founded, the first thing it does, as a rule, is to take the measure of its land and its people. And when those are made plain, it sets to lightening the taxes and urging on the farming and the sericulture. But by reason of war and plague and the like, each new dynasty's recovery must study out its pharmacology afresh, and breed up new grain seed, a most troublesome business, in a word. And so there came to be the Nation-Protecting Temple..."

"I know!" The Sixth Immortal had long since been unable to hold it in. He shot a hand high in the air. "I know, I know, this part I know..."

The Second Prince, between laughing and not, could only nod. "Very well. Sixth brother, you tell it."

The Sixth Prince smiled. "I heard the monks tell it before, when I went with our Granny to the temple..."

But the Second Prince cut in, grave, "Sixth brother... Granny is in the palace."

The Sixth Prince answered, stubborn, "The one in the palace is Dowager Zheng. I mean our own true Granny!"

The young prince stared at his imperial brother without a trace of fear, and it was a good while before the Second Prince, helpless, patted his head and said, "You may say it in the carriage only, never to an outsider."

Chen Dasheng, as though he'd heard nothing at all, drew the curtain aside and looked out. "Nearly there, are we?"

Meng Dingchen took it up at once, smiling. "There's a way to go yet! Oh, the Sixth Prince knows the tale of the Nation-Protecting Temple? Then hurry and tell the Recorder, he wants to hear it!"

Chen Dasheng let the curtain fall and nodded too. "Mm, I want to hear."

The Sixth Prince, when he'd said his piece, looked at his second brother, and declared, as if venting a spleen, "Eight hundred years!"

The Second Prince, born of the South Nation-Protecting Temple, was of a good temper, but on this one thing alone would not give way, and so he said through his teeth, "One thousand years!"

"Eight hundred years!"

"One thousand... years!"

This was not the first time. For one reason or another it always came to a wrangle. The Second Prince carried great dignity in the palace, but the Sixth Prince was an immortal, was he not, and did not fear him.

Chen Dasheng cared nothing for it, and once more lifted the curtain to watch the fun, and, watching, unexpectedly caught sight of a face he knew: the Tan family's Wu Xiu.

The Tan family had come too?

At his side, the two royal brothers had begun to cite chapter and verse in the assault on each other's faith. And Meng Dingchen grew anxious, his whole head in a sweat. He was about to pull Chen Dasheng in to help make peace, when Chen Dasheng pulled at him first, and asked, "Minister Meng, I seem to have got a drill-instructor's subsidy a few days back. So~ what's my yearly salary in dan now?"

In an instant the whole carriage fell silent, and there was Chen Dasheng, muttering away to himself, "Seems my yearly salary's past two hundred dan now, doesn't it?"

Meng Dingchen, unable to bear it, said, "Recorder Chen seems to set great store by his salary silver!"

Chen Dasheng scratched his head, bashful. "Mm, I set very great store by it. After all... I've a family to keep and feed!"