“After finishing the storeroom inventory, the Yu girl went to see the matron borrowed from the Governor’s residence. She asked which merchants supplied the Governor’s household. In one afternoon, she met several merchants and, in a single breath, spent five hundred taels of silver on orders.”
Speaking of how much Mi Yao had spent today, Pu Qing couldn’t help clicking his tongue. This was only the first day of marriage, and already she could spend so freely. If it continued like this, how would his master ever afford to keep her?
Xiao Xu had already finished his official duties and was standing before his desk, brush poised in mid‑air as he practiced calligraphy.
Hearing Pu Qing’s words, his expression did not change in the slightest. Clearly, five hundred taels meant nothing to him.
Sensing his master did not share his view that Mi Yao was overstepping, Pu Qing pressed further: “The Yu girl, while tallying the storerooms, moved anything she liked into her own quarters. She even rewarded her servants generously. Just now she went to the accounting office and asked for one hundred strings of cash, saying she would distribute them tomorrow when she met the household staff.”
Such extravagance was already worthy of punishment.
But in the room, only Pu Qing was indignant. When his master gave no reply, he knew these matters still did not concern him. Since that was the case, tomorrow when Lady Yu handed out money, he would have to be present—so she would know that everything she did was watched by his eyes on behalf of his master.
Later, when Xiao Xu returned to the main courtyard, Mi Yao had already moved into the side chamber. His own sleeping quarters had been restored to their original state—no trace of gaudy red decorations, and even the heavy sweet fragrance had dissipated. Yet as he stood in the courtyard, he heard the sound of musical instruments coming from Mi Yao’s room nearby, and frowned. He had forgotten that Mi Yao was a living person who could make noise. He should have sent her to live in the neighboring courtyard, not share the same one.
Meanwhile, inside Mi Yao’s chamber—
After bathing, she lay lazily on the mother‑of‑pearl inlaid rosewood couch. Too tired even to read, her gaze drifted over the treasures she had hauled from the storerooms: a glass lantern, a gilt incense burner set with rubies, a Tang sancai phoenix‑neck vase. Her hand occasionally reached out to rub Xiao Shan’s cheek. Without her cap, her dandelion‑like hair was loose as she concentrated on the little jade flute she had just given her. Each time she managed to blow a faint sound, she would nuzzle against Mi Yao in delight, showing her she could make music.
“Our little Xiao daughter may well become a master of instruments one day,” Mi Yao praised playfully.
Encouraged, Xiao Shan puffed her cheeks and blew harder, happy as could be. Inspired, Mi Yao decided to start teaching her to speak.
Because she was close to Xiao Shan, news about her naturally reached her. It wasn’t that Xiao Xu had ignored his son’s muteness. When Xiao Shan was two, Xiao Xu had already summoned doctors for her—more than one.
Every doctor had reached the same conclusion: Xiao Shan’s throat was fine. Her inability to speak was either because she was late in learning, or because there might be some mental issue too early to detect.
Because the Xiao household had summoned doctors so often, rumors spread outside. Most said Xiao Xu carried too much murderous aura, had killed too many people, and so Heaven had taken away his little daughter’s ability to speak.
Perhaps angered by such talk, afterward Xiao Xu neither invited monks to dispel evil nor continued to seek doctors for her.
Mi Yao was certain the little radish’s mind was sound. Naturally, it was simply a case of learning to speak late.
“Di—zi—” Mi Yao pointed at the small jade flute in the child’s hand, slowly pronouncing the two syllables.
Xiao Shan widened her eyes, watching Mi Yao’s mouth. When she heard “flute,” she nodded and lifted the jade flute, showing she understood.
When Mi Yao repeated the word slowly, Xiao Shan realized she was being taught. She obediently opened her mouth, imitating the same shape, though no sound came out.
Mi Yao wasn’t impatient. She casually pointed to objects in the room, speaking slowly so the child could mimic. Her two elder brothers had tried teaching her before. Each time she managed to utter a few “ah ah” sounds, saliva would spill from her mouth, and she refused to continue.
But now, with Mi Yao as teacher, she was interested. First, she copied Mi Yao’s mouth movements silently.
When Mi Yao lost interest and reached for a book, Xiao Shan wanted to keep playing. She pointed at the objects Mi Yao had just named, and uttered “ah ah ah” for each. Though not pure “ah,” the tones faintly resembled the intended words.
Mi Yao raised her brows and rewarded her with a rub on the cheek. “Our little lady is so clever. Shall I teach you again?”
Xiao Shan nodded vigorously.
Mi Yao taught once more, but at the end she pointed to herself: “A—niang—” (Mother).
She suddenly remembered the saying: the easiest words for children to learn are “father” and “mother.”
Since “ma” wasn’t used here, and “mother” was too difficult to pronounce, she taught “niang.”
Xiao Shan was clearly fascinated by this word. She tossed the jade flute aside and began pointing at Mi Yao, uttering “ah ah ah” with excitement.
Even as Mi Yao’s hair dried, the child was still “ah ah ah”-ing.
“Little lady’s sounds are already close to ‘A‑niang.’” Shuang Hua entered to extinguish the candles. After listening for a while, she felt that the noises Xiao Shan made were nearly indistinguishable from the word *niang* (mother).
“Mmm…” Mi Yao answered weakly. She was beginning to regret teaching Xiao Shan this word—first, because the endless repetition was tormenting her ears, and second, because she worried that once Xiao Shan learned it, she would call her for everything.
Xiao Shan, absorbed in her progress, was not interrupted. Mi Yao endured until it was time to put out the candles, then pinched her cheek.
“Sleep now. We’ll learn again tomorrow.”
Xiao Shan obediently murmured “mm.”
That sound was almost proper, and Mi Yao felt a small sense of accomplishment. After settling her on the little bed behind the ebony screen inlaid with magnolia patterns, she looked at her docile appearance and kissed her forehead.
Xiao Shan had already been reluctant to part from Mi Yao. Even in bed, she kept her eyes wide open, watching her. When Mi Yao kissed her, her eyes grew even wider, round and gleaming like precious jewels. She touched her forehead, then her lips.
Seeing her about to grow lively again, Mi Yao pinched her cheek and warned, “Close your eyes. Sleep!”
Only when Xiao Shan shut her eyes did Mi Yao return to her own couch.
But she didn’t know that as soon as she left, Xiao Shan opened her eyes again, still touching the spot where her “A‑niang’s” soft, fragrant lips had kissed her.
The next morning, when Mi Yao woke, the first thing she saw once again was Xiao Xu. Two days in a row like this—Mi Yao felt she was going to be frightened into illness.
Glancing at the quilt that had slipped from her body onto the floor, Mi Yao touched her faintly aching cheek—clearly pinched—and muttered, “Xiao Lang, is this how you wake a delicate flower?”
By the time for breakfast, Xiao Xu still hadn’t seen Mi Yao, and knew her promise yesterday had been nothing but perfunctory words. Aware that her maids calling her would never work, he had come himself. But once asleep, she was like a dead pig. Even when he pulled off her quilt, she kept her eyes shut, snoring softly, showing no sign of waking. Now, hearing her slurred tone, seeing her drowsy eyes and flawless skin, she looked like a flower stirred awake by morning dew. The longer he looked, the more he suspected she had already risen, washed, and returned to bed—pretending to sleep just to present this posture when he arrived, deliberately teasing him.
“Why is Shan’er here?” Xiao Xu ignored her words, lowering his gaze to the child at the side of the bed.
Only then did Mi Yao realize Xiao Shan had somehow left her own little bed and climbed onto Mi Yao’s couch. Luckily, she had brought her own small quilt, or she too would have been exposed when the covers were pulled away. Now she clung to Mi Yao’s arm, shivering from the cold.
“Xiao Lang, I’m cold.” Mi Yao stretched out her arms toward him. “Either carry your wife over to fetch clothes, or bring your wife’s clothes here.”
Not help *her*—help *his wife*.
Xiao Xu’s narrow, cold eyes swept over the thin fabric covering her. He could even see the chill raising her chest, pressing against the embroidered cherries on her undergarment.
So this was the daughter of the Yu clan. Outwardly, the legitimate daughter of a noble family was like an ice lotus on a high mountain. In private, she was like this.
Before he moved, Xiao Shan—already awake—slipped on her shoes and toddled off to fetch Mi Yao’s clothes.
But halfway there, Xiao Xu caught her up and deposited her back on her little bed behind the screen, warning: “Lie still. If you don’t want to be strung up, don’t run around.”
“Ah—da—”
Hearing Xiao Shan’s voice, Xiao Xu paused, wondering if she was calling him *A‑da* (Father).
But then the wide‑eyed little girl raised her hand and slapped his face. Her strength was nothing, but it was enough to darken Xiao Xu’s expression.
What had the Yu woman been teaching her!
Catching the cloak Xiao Xu tossed at her, Mi Yao saw his thunderous face and assumed he was simply unwilling to serve her. She had no idea that the sound she’d heard—like swatting a mosquito—was actually Xiao Xu being slapped.
“I’ll wait half a quarter hour. If you’re late, you’ll be dealt with under military law.”
At the words *military law*, Mi Yao blinked innocently, lowering her soft voice: “But I’m no soldier. How could military law apply to me? Xiao Lang, surely you’re speaking of husband‑and‑wife matters, and the rod you mean to use on me is for my backside, isn’t it, Xiao Lang’s…”
Mi Yao’s gaze deliberately dropped toward Xiao Xu’s lower body, but before she could finish her words, he hurled the cup in his hand at her shoulder.
“Shut up.”
Though he controlled his strength, Mi Yao still felt pain. She hadn’t expected him to resort to action so quickly. Flopping onto the bed, her body wrapped in the cloak, she trembled as if she were crying from grievance.
“What are you doing now?”
“Xiao Lang, before marrying me, you called me a delicate flower. Now that you’ve taken me, you bully me so. I’d heard there were men who relied on their strength to beat women, and thought only the most vicious would do such a thing. I never imagined Xiao Lang would be the same…”
Mi Yao sobbed as she spoke.
Hearing her cries, Xiao Shan wriggled free from her quilt and ran to the couch to touch Mi Yao. She glared at Xiao Xu for a moment, then, realizing she couldn’t fight him, opened her mouth and began to cry too.
One woman’s voice sharp and shrill, the other’s low like a buzzing insect—Xiao Xu ground his teeth. “Do you call what I just did a beating?”
If he had truly struck her, her shoulder bone would have snapped and she wouldn’t be able to lift her arm. Instead, she was perfectly able to raise her hand to cover her face and pretend to cry.