Around mid-morning, the young master rose and departed.
The moment he stepped out, Jiang Yin hurriedly opened the window and peered outside.
By now, the snow had long ceased. Gazing into the distance, the sky stretched clear for miles, the entire city blanketed in a blinding silver-white.
Roofs of varying heights near and far were all shrouded in a vast expanse of white, making the red bricks and dark tiles beneath appear even more vibrant and strikingly new.
In front of Zui Xian Ju lay a bustling street market, where many stalls had already been set up and were open for business. The constant flow of people and steaming warmth added a touch of coziness to the otherwise silent snowscape.
Just as she was lost in the view, a clamor drew Jiang Yin’s attention back.
Looking down, she happened to catch sight of the young master entering her line of vision.
Clad in a bright blue Great Cloak and silver-white fox fur, his jet-black hair tied high with a gold-inlaid jade crown, he exuded an air of noble aloofness. Combined with his exceptional stature, he stood out conspicuously among the crowd below.
Upon seeing him emerge, people outside rushed forward, cupping their hands and speaking urgently. Their expressions varied, but most wore looks of deep anxiety.
Jiang Yin couldn’t see the young master’s face, only his tense jawline and rigidly straight back.
Guards stepped forward, pushing the crowd aside to clear a narrow path to the carriage. Yet the people continued to press forward desperately, clamoring and arguing without end.
Jiang Yin had no interest in these people’s affairs, nor did she bother to discern what they were saying. Propping her chin on her hand, she watched from the window as the young master, surrounded by the crowd, boarded his carriage. Then she withdrew her gaze and turned her attention to a box of silver notes on the table.
—This was the first time since transmigrating into this world that she had actually held silver notes.
Back at the Li Residence, as a lowly maid disliked by the female lead, Jiang Yin received only a handful of copper coins each month—and even those were occasionally withheld. It was truly pitiful.
Forget silver notes; she hadn’t even touched a whole silver ingot.
Having transmigrated via rebirth, she had endured such poverty for a full eighteen years.
In those eighteen years, Jiang Yin was abandoned by her parents at birth, passed through several hands, and was eventually sold into the Li Residence. The steward raised her until she was six, then sent her to serve as a study companion for the female lead.
Unfortunately, the female lead was mischievous, disliked studying, and by extension, disliked Jiang Yin as her companion.
As a child, she often teased Jiang Yin and vented her frustrations on her whenever she was punished for poor academic performance.
Jiang Yin didn’t mind this. After all, in her eyes, whether it was the female lead or the steward, they were merely paper-thin characters without true will. Getting angry with them simply wasn’t worth it.
Her only grievance was that the masters of the Li Residence preferred bland, watery dishes. With her meager monthly allowance and no extra money for private meals, she was often so hungry she could have eaten a person.
…Damn it all. Even if I starve to death in the future, I’ll never, ever take on such a wretched role again.
…
But then again, if the reward hadn’t been so generous back then, Jiang Yin would never have endured such hardship.
Who could have known that just as she was about to claim her reward and exit after completing the mission, the System would malfunction, spew out a stream of garbled code, and then disconnect?
What rotten luck.
Fuming inwardly, Jiang Yin carefully took out the silver notes, pressed them against her face, and took a deep breath.
Money!!
Food!!
The ink-scented paper carried a uniquely bitter fragrance that rushed into her nostrils, straight to her mind, refreshing her spirits.
Jiang Yin sniffed the stack repeatedly before reluctantly pulling away. Suppressing the wild laughter that threatened to burst from her throat, she silently held the silver notes and bounced around the room, finally lying on the bed and covering herself with them one by one before closing her eyes contentedly.
Then, without meaning to, she fell asleep.
…
When she woke again, it was already dark. A lamp had been lit in the room, its light faint.
Jiang Yin sat up drowsily from the bed, yawned as she glanced at the soft brocade quilt covering her, and stretched comfortably.
Just as she was about to check the time, she turned her head and collided with a pair of dark, quiet eyes.
Startled, she scrambled off the bed: “Young master…”
Only after calling out did Jiang Yin remember that he couldn’t see. She let out a soft sigh of relief and slowed her movements.
The young master sat on the floor beside a low table, facing the bed. To his right was a window, behind him the wall separating the inner and outer chambers, where a large bow hung, its metal decorations gleaming faintly in the dim candlelight.
Hearing Jiang Yin’s voice, he slightly raised his chin, his voice somewhat hoarse: “I heard you haven’t eaten all day. I had someone prepare dinner.”
“…”
Only then did Jiang Yin remember her money. She looked around and found it gone.
A chill ran down her spine. Without responding to the young master’s words, she frantically turned over the bedding and pillows, not even stopping when she tugged at her wound.
Perhaps guessing her worry, the young master remained silent for a long while before speaking quietly: “The silver notes on the bed—I’ve already put them back in the box for you. No need to worry.”
“…”
Her anxious heart finally settled. Jiang Yin sighed in relief and plopped back onto the bed: “…Thank you, young master.”
“No matter. Let’s go.”
“Ah… oh, right.”
Only then did Jiang Yin recall what the young master had said earlier. She hurriedly stood up, went over, took his outstretched hand, helped him rise, and proceeded to the front hall.
The candlelight in the front hall was much brighter than in the inner chamber, creating a warm atmosphere.
As the young master had said, the table in the front hall was already set with food, steaming hot as if freshly prepared.
Jiang Yin helped the young master sit down and was about to take the seat opposite when he grasped her wrist.
She paused, hearing him say: “Sit here.”
“…Alright.”
Thinking that since the young master couldn’t see, he might need her help with serving food, Jiang Yin complied and sat down.
But just as she was about to start eating, she noticed there was only one set of bowls and chopsticks on the table.
Hesitating for a moment, Jiang Yin turned to look at the young master beside her.
Perhaps sensing her gaze, or perhaps because he hadn’t heard her begin to eat, the young master’s expression shifted slightly as he explained: “I’ve already eaten at the manor. This is all prepared for you.”
“…”
Looking at the lavish table of exquisite dishes before her, Jiang Yin clicked her tongue: “Young master, this is too much… A Yin truly doesn’t deserve…”
“Don’t say you don’t deserve it, A Yin.”
The young master abruptly cut her off.
Before Jiang Yin could react, he turned his face toward her and continued earnestly: “In my actions, I always have my own considerations. Whatever I give you, you deserve.”
…Although this wasn’t the first time the young master had called her A Yin, this time felt inexplicably different from before.
Jiang Yin was stunned for a moment before nodding: “Alright, thank you, young master.”
“Don’t thank me. Call me Azhuo.”
“…Alright… Azhuo.”
Hearing her obediently change her address, the young master nodded and then asked, “Has your injury improved?”
“It’s much better now, thank you…”
Halfway through her reply, she remembered his earlier request and silently swallowed the rest of her words.
The young master did not press the matter, only saying calmly, “Last night, I had someone apply medicine for you. If it works, apply it again after dinner, and the pain should be gone by tomorrow.”
“Alright.”
After waiting a moment and seeing that the young master had no further questions, Jiang Yin picked up her bowl and chopsticks, eating in small bites.
This wasn’t because she was particularly refined, but because the room was too quiet—even the slightest sound seemed amplified many times over, making her feel embarrassed.
However, before she could take more than a few bites, the young master spoke again.
His hand resting on his knee tightened slightly as he carefully said to Jiang Yin, “…I do not know whether A Yin is willing to bear children for me. Therefore, later, I will send someone to bring medicine…”
At this point, the young master paused, a flicker of reluctance passing over his delicate features, so fleeting it was almost imperceptible.
He lowered his gaze and continued, “A Yin may decide for herself whether to take it. There is no need to inform me of the outcome.”