A pair of brand-new black boots stepped on the ground beside the pastries as Song Langyu walked straight past Wen Jiao.
Yingliu had initially feared Song Langyu might scold her, but seeing him show no reaction at all, she grew bolder. She stomped on the pastries one foot after another, grinding them into crumbs, and warned Wen Jiao in a low voice: "Miss Wen, don't come again. The Calamus Courtyard has everything it needs; it doesn't lack your pastries."
News of what happened at the Calamus Courtyard spread quickly. Servants are the most adept at reading the wind and trimming their sails. Since Wen Jiao wasn't a legitimate mistress of the household, their attitude toward her naturally became perfunctory—the food was cold, and there was no hot water to be had.
Even the maids at the Glass Pavilion grew visibly lazy and negligent. At night when Wen Jiao wanted water to drink, the maids pretended not to hear. Even if they reluctantly got up to attend to her, they brought cold water, and when asked why, they said the hot water had run out.
After several days of this, seeing that Madam Wu still hadn't reacted, the servants grew even bolder—stealing jewelry, gossiping, skimping on food, using every means at their disposal to torment Wen Jiao.
The situation had finally developed into exactly what Wen Jiao wanted.
Madam Wu's anger had cooled, and she remembered Wen Jiao's former obedience. That day she summoned Wen Jiao again. When they met, she didn't bring up the earlier incident, only asking her to embroider a few handkerchiefs.
Wen Jiao had lost considerable weight, her complexion pale and sickly. She murmured her assent and withdrew.
Nanny Zhou massaged Madam Wu's temples and said, "Miss Wen's looks are beyond reproach—you'd be hard-pressed to find another in all of the capital with such beauty. It's just that her family background is too poor; she can't marry into a high-ranking household."
Nanny Zhou's massage technique couldn't compare to Wen Jiao's. Madam Wu patted her hand to make her stop and said, "Even you can see this clearly, yet she herself chose to be foolish."
The door curtain was pushed aside, and Song Langyu entered the room in his official robes, asking casually, "Who's being foolish?"
Madam Wu paused for a moment before answering: "We're talking about Jiao Jiao."
Song Langyu said nothing. He pulled a gold-threaded bracelet from his sleeve and placed it before Madam Wu, saying, "Mother, please take a look—is this item from our household?"
Madam Wu found the thing somewhat familiar but couldn't recall where from, so she asked, "Where did this come from?"
"When the Ministry of Justice was investigating a theft case, they found this bracelet at a gambling den that deals in stolen goods. The criminal said the bracelet wasn't obtained through theft, but was sold by someone from the Duke of Zhenguo's household."
Madam Wu's expression turned serious. She handed the bracelet to Nanny Zhou: "Take a look at this."
Nanny Zhou examined it and said, "This bracelet is indeed from the household. There were two of them at the time—one was given to the eldest young lady, and one to Miss Wen."
"Since you know you're only lodging in this household, miss, you should be more considerate. The weather is cold now, and it's unavoidable that the food cools quickly. The legitimate masters of the household haven't complained, yet you, an outsider, are being picky about this and that, insisting we take it back to the kitchen to reheat before bringing it again. What's the point?" The steward Nanny Wang's voice was shrill as she sneered with a sidelong glance.
It was already past the time for the midday meal. Nanny Wang had finished her own lunch before sending someone to the kitchen to fetch the meal. When the food was set on the table, there was a plate of wilted, yellowed stir-fried greens and a plate of pale, white braised fatty meat—looking like servants' fare.
This had been the case these past days, and Wen Jiao hadn't made an issue of it. But today the braised meat had gone completely cold, with a layer of white congealed fat on top, impossible to eat with chopsticks. She wanted to ask the maid to take it to the kitchen to reheat.
At just that one sentence, Nanny Wang reacted as if she were a cat whose tail had been stepped on, shrieking hysterically.
Wen Jiao sat on the arhat couch by the window, embroidery hoop in hand, her head bowed in concentration as she worked on a handkerchief.
Nanny Wang, seeing that she remained silent, refused to let the matter drop and craned her neck to say:
"If miss were a proper and dutiful girl, the mistress would naturally dote on you. Who told you to go and do such disgraceful things, dragging those of us who serve you into shame? If you ask me, miss should just keep to herself. The mistress has you embroidering handkerchiefs to temper your character—don't go harboring vain hopes of climbing the social ladder and ordering us around again. Whatever the kitchen brings, eat it. Don't be so picky."
"Since when can servants in the Glass Pavilion lecture their mistress?"
The door crashed open as Madam Wu stepped inside with a cold face, followed by Song Langyu and several older maidservants.
Nanny Wang started in fright and hastily knelt to defend herself: "This old servant—this old servant wouldn't dare lecture the mistress! I was merely—merely urging Miss Wen to eat."
Madam Wu glanced at the food on the kang table and immediately flew into a rage—
Even the lowest-ranking maidservants in the household got two dishes and a soup for their midday meal—nothing extravagant, but at least edible.
Yet before Wen Jiao sat one meat dish and one vegetable, but they looked like leftovers from several days past, utterly inedible.
Wen Jiao's uncles and aunts had mistreated her, and Madam Wu had cursed them for being heartless wolves. Now she was treating the girl worse than those heartless wolves!
The more Madam Wu thought about it, the angrier she grew. She slammed the table hard: "Is this the midday meal for a member of the household? Which stewardess in the kitchen gave you this?"
After her anger subsided, Madam Wu also felt some regret that her words that day had been too harsh. Now, seeing these insolent servants bullying Wen Jiao, her guilt deepened. She looked at Wen Jiao, who stood quietly to the side with her head bowed—neither lodging a complaint nor bemoaning her suffering—alone and pitiful.
Nanny Wang had, of course, already collected Wen Jiao's meal allowance, but she had eaten it herself, leaving only scraps and leftovers to bring back. There was no way to pin the blame on the kitchen stewardess.
Gritting her teeth, Nanny Wang knelt and knocked her head heavily against the floor, begging for mercy: "Madam, this old servant was wrong! I was greedy and stole miss's meal portion! Please, Madam, in consideration of my previous diligence, spare this old servant this once!"
"Aside from this matter, have you committed any other offenses?" Song Langyu suddenly spoke.
Nanny Wang hesitated for a moment, then immediately shook her head: "No, none! This old servant was merely greedy—I've committed no other wrongs!"
"Bring the person in!"
A maidservant with her hands and feet bound was dragged inside. The moment Nanny Wang saw the woman's face, she began trembling all over, unable to utter a single coherent word.
Song Langyu held up the gold-thread bracelet and said: "This bracelet was passed out through Old Lady Li, the kitchen buyer. Old Lady Li has confessed that you gave it to her, and the two of you split the silver from the sale. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"
Nanny Wang was scared out of her wits, her legs going weak as she could only knock her head repeatedly and beg for mercy.
Song Langyu waved his hand, and someone stepped forward to drag Nanny Wang out.
Pull up one radish and the mud comes with it—Nanny Wang's theft implicated more than a dozen people, all of whom Madam Wu dealt with. Some were beaten with boards, others were expelled from the household.
After the punishments were carried out, she patted Wen Jiao's hand and said: "Your aunt failed to notice what was happening and let these insolent servants bully you. I'll send two capable people to attend to you shortly. If you ever feel wronged in the future, be sure to tell your aunt."
Wen Jiao rose and gave a proper, courteous bow, speaking considerately: "The Duke's estate is so vast, and Aunt has so many matters to attend to that it's only natural she couldn't spare a moment for Jiao Jiao. Aunt need not blame herself."
Madam Wu left with her attendants, but Song Langyu remained, frowning as he asked: "When servants bully their master, you simply endure it?"
Wen Jiao lifted her eyes to look at him, a bitter smile flickering at the corners of her lips. Her eyes reddened, yet her voice remained clear: "I've long grown accustomed to it. Besides… I'm hardly a proper mistress of this household. I'm already a source of annoyance to others—why stir up more trouble?"
Song Langyu paused, then explained: "Whether you believe it or not, what happened at the Glass Pavilion was not done at my instruction."
Wen Jiao sat on the edge of the couch, head bowed as she embroidered the handkerchief in her hands. Her voice was soft, yet loud enough for Song Langyu to hear clearly: "Cousin treats me with cold indifference and allows the maidservants to look down on me. The servants in this household all live by reading their masters' moods. Even without Cousin saying a word, once they see how you treat me, they know exactly how to treat me in turn."
Song Langyu was about to speak when he suddenly heard a faint chirping sound. Following it with his eyes, he saw a small nest made of cotton wadding placed on the windowsill, inside which sat a fluffy baby bird.
Wen Jiao gently scooped up the fledgling in her hands, her fingers softly stroking its head. The little bird closed its eyes in contentment.
She wore a plain white jacket, her face free of makeup, yet her skin was fair and luminous. Her eyes brimmed with smiles at the bird's adorable clumsiness—fragile and beautiful.
Like a figure carved from ice and sculpted from snow—beautiful, yet easily broken.
The household of the Duke of Zhen's estate was simple. Since Song Langyu could remember, each courtyard had been peaceful and uneventful. He had never imagined that his own attitude would make Wen Jiao's life so difficult.
But Wen Jiao seemed already accustomed to such injustice—or perhaps not accustomed, but powerless to change it.
She was an orphan girl, lodging in someone else's home. Even if she weren't accustomed to it, what could she possibly do?
Song Langyu's lips tightened.
Wen Jiao took a few grains of millet and placed them in her palm. The fledgling pecked at the grain, tickling her, and she couldn't help but laugh as she tapped the bird's head lightly, murmuring softly: "Eat, eat. Once your wings grow, I'll set you free outside."
As she spoke, something glistened in her eyes, and her voice carried a slight thickness.
Song Langyu suddenly felt himself cruel. Though Wen Jiao's intentions might not be entirely pure, she only sought to live a more stable life.
There was nothing wrong with a person wanting to live well—it was hardly a crime.
He had been somewhat too harsh.
Song Langyu's footsteps gradually faded into the distance, leaving only Wen Jiao in the room. She gently stroked the bird's feathers, her voice sweet and melodious: "Do you think the Young Master will lose sleep tonight?"
That night, in the Calamus Courtyard.
Song Langyu was indeed unsettled. He had looked down on Wen Jiao and resented her, so he had turned a blind eye to everything about her—and this was the result.
He had begun his studies at three, passed the imperial examinations at ten, and entered officialdom at sixteen. His conduct had always been proper and decorous. Yet now, toward a helpless young woman, he had become harsh and ungracious.
Moonlight seeped through the latticed window, spilling a pool of silver across the floor.
Song Langyu could not sleep at all. He vaguely heard soft voices speaking outside the courtyard.
"Who is speaking outside?"
The door opened a crack, and Yingliu entered, replying: "Someone is feeling unwell and has asked the estate physician to come take a look."
"Who is ill?" At the turn of spring into summer, Madam Wu's headaches were most prone to acting up.
Yingliu pressed her lips together, a faint contemptuous snort escaping her nose: "It's that one at the Glass Pavilion."