The Tofu Queen: A Modern Woman's Ancient Kingdom Journey

The distinctive charm of Banmen lay in its legacy. Its first master craftsman had been granted a noble title by the late emperor. Though the title held no real power and the yearly stipend was meager, for merchants, carrying a noble rank was a matter of immense pride. It symbolized prestige, an honor that set Banmen apart.

This pride was evident in the attitude of its staff. Whether a steward, craftsman, or even a lowly clerk, they all carried a faint air of superiority, even toward customers who were modestly dressed or merely middle-class.

As Jiang Huaiyu stepped inside, this air of aloofness was the first thing she noticed. The shop was bustling with patrons, but when she tried to ask a clerk a question, she was met with a sour expression and a curt reply:

"What do you want? Our items aren't cheap. Think carefully before you call me over again."

With that, he turned and walked off.

Jiang Huaiyu stood there, dumbfounded. She couldn't decide whether to be more shocked at Banmen's excessive arrogance or at her own inexperience in dealing with such treatment.

"I wasn't aware they had grown so insolent," came a low, sardonic voice.

It was the first time Jiang Huaiyu had heard such overt disdain from He Congjun. She turned to look at him, realizing he seemed ready to speak up on her behalf. Quickly, she tried to de-escalate.

"Let it go. I didn't place an order ahead of time anyway. They probably wouldn't sell to me even if I asked. I appreciate your kindness, but I'll check elsewhere," she said softly.

He Congjun's sharp gaze betrayed a flicker of surprise, though he concealed it well. Looking down at her, his expression returned to calm neutrality.

"You remind me of someone I used to know," he said, his tone lighter now, "but that doesn't excuse their arrogance. No shop has the right to treat people this way."

"Who said Banmen bullies its customers?"

A firm, elderly voice interrupted their conversation. Jiang Huaiyu turned to see a stooped old man entering the shop, leaning heavily on a cane. His cloudy eyes held a hint of irritation as he looked toward He Congjun, evidently displeased by his words.

He Congjun turned to face the man fully, his lips curling slightly in what might have been a sneer or a faint smile. Standing tall, his presence was cold and commanding, like snow on a distant peak. His tailored ink-green robes, combined with his sharp, noble features, exuded an air of unapproachable dignity.

The old man froze, his expression shifting. It wasn't the young man's attire or demeanor that startled him—it was his identity.

"Th-thr—" The old man nearly blurted out "Third Prince" before catching himself. He paused under He Congjun's cool, warning gaze, quickly correcting his approach.

"Third Young Master! What an honor it is to have you here!" The old man's tone became obsequious. "Pray, which of our foolish staff has offended you? I'll have them apologize and dismiss them at once!"

The clerk who had rudely spoken to Jiang Huaiyu earlier happened to pass by and saw the scene. His haughty demeanor vanished, his jaw dropping as he realized the situation. He paled, shrinking back like a scolded dog.

He Congjun let out a cold laugh. "It's not about me. I didn't realize Banmen had grown so high and mighty that it bars entry to those without coin. Is that your shop's policy now?"

Jiang Huaiyu remained quiet, her mind racing. It was becoming clear that He Congjun wasn't an ordinary man. His presence commanded respect even from Banmen's master, a figure revered in the capital. Was he a scion of one of the powerful noble families?

The implications unsettled her. The noble families of Dayun wielded immense power, often rivaling that of the emperor himself. Unlike her business dealings with Qin Ziqin, the princess, or even the shrewd merchant Jin Chong, Jiang Huaiyu had no intention of entangling herself with the aristocracy. Their intrigues ran too deep, their stakes too high.

When the old man asked what He Congjun wanted, the answer surprised him.

"A set of zhuazhou items," He Congjun said simply.

The old man's expression flickered briefly, becoming unreadable before he bowed again and gave orders to fetch the requested set. As he walked away, his thoughts ran wild. Was this child of the imperial family secretly raising a child outside the palace? Or could the usually austere Third Prince harbor feelings for a married woman?

Shaking his head to dismiss such dangerous musings, the old man returned carrying a long wooden box. Carefully, he opened it to reveal its contents: an exquisite array of miniature items—a silver ingot, a tiny abacus, a scaled-down sword, and more. Each piece was crafted with meticulous precision, a testament to Banmen's renowned artistry.

"How much for the set?" Jiang Huaiyu asked, impressed.

The old man smiled ingratiatingly. "Take it as a gift. It would bring us joy to see a child's bright future tied to Banmen's name."

The flattery made Jiang Huaiyu uncomfortable. She shook her head firmly. "I don't take things for free. Tell me the price."

The old man hesitated, glancing at He Congjun for guidance. Seeing no objection, he reluctantly named a token price: one tael of silver. It was a fraction of the set's true value, but Jiang Huaiyu wasn't aware of that. She handed over the silver without argument, relieved to have resolved the matter.

As they left the shop, Jiang Huaiyu finally exhaled, though her relief was short-lived. Walking beside her, He Congjun was like a shadow she couldn't escape—his tall frame and cold aura impossible to ignore.

"You don't need to escort me further," she said, trying to sound casual. "I can manage on my own."

He Congjun glanced down at her, his sharp eyes softening ever so slightly. "No trouble at all. The box has some weight to it. I'll accompany you to your street."

Jiang Huaiyu could only sigh inwardly. It seemed there was no polite way to decline his insistence.

After a few blocks, He Congjun called out, "Wait."

She turned, puzzled, only to see him hand a coin to a waiting sedan bearer. The man, initially grumpy, brightened at the sight of the silver and quickly prepared the sedan.

"Take the sedan," He Congjun said. His tone left no room for refusal.

Reluctantly, Jiang Huaiyu stepped into the sedan, clutching the wooden box tightly. As the bearers carried her forward and He Congjun followed on foot, her mind churned with questions.

What is he trying to do? she wondered. She doubted his motives were romantic—his demeanor lacked any such warmth. But there was an undeniable weight to his presence, as though he carried secrets she was better off not knowing.

When they finally reached her street, she stepped out of the sedan, determined to end the encounter. "Thank you for your help, but my household is all women. I can't invite you in—please understand."

He Congjun nodded, handing her the box. "Understood."

As she hurried away, her skirts fluttering like rippling water, he watched her go, his expression unreadable before he turned and walked toward the palace.

…

Back at home, Jiang Huaiyu relaxed at last, the familiar scent of home greeting her. She smiled, calling for Zhu Zhu.

"Where's Xiaocao and Granny Xu?"

"Granny Xu is in the kitchen, and Xiaocao is feeding the young master in the main room," Zhu Zhu replied cheerfully.

Jiang Huaiyu nodded, heading to the main room while keeping the wooden box out of sight. When she entered, Xiaocao looked up from wiping Tangbao's mouth.

"Madam, is that the zhuazhou set?"

"Shh!" Jiang Huaiyu pressed a finger to her lips.

Tangbao, oblivious to their plans, beamed at his mother, his tiny teeth gleaming as he grinned, his eyes crinkling with joy.