The courtyard, bustling with people, was steeped in a bone-chilling cold.
Several women watched as Xia He, usually strong-willed, shed tears in streams, their expressions varying.
A Chi, holding newly made frog buttons, glanced around and saw Cui Jin-Niang frowning in thought, An Nian-Nian looking downcast with a somber face, and Liu Tian-Xing peeking out from behind An Nian-Nian, also weeping.
Between sobs, Liu Tian-Xing asked, “Xia He, don’t just cry. You mentioned Qing Ying—has something happened to her?”
Xia He pressed her lips together but ultimately didn’t know what to say.
It felt as though speaking certain words would scatter everything she had built over the years.
Then what would she be? And what of her children?
The courtyard gate swung open, and a young maid hurried in. “Sister A Chi, the young mistress has returned. Sister Tu Nan sent me to ask if you have any medicine for bruises or injuries.”
“The young mistress is hurt?”
A Chi, wearing a blue vest, sprang to her feet and hurried out, lifting her skirt.
The courtyard was left with only the concubines, and for a moment, no one spoke.
After a pause, Cui Jin-Niang, clutching the corner of her handkerchief, said softly, “The second young mistress is injured. Shouldn’t we, as concubines, go and pay our respects?”
Having found a reason, she stepped out of the courtyard.
Following her lead, the others trailed after her.
Unexpectedly, when they reached the main courtyard, they found Shen Shiqing sitting on a soft cushion, legs crossed, eating a persimmon.
Zhao Su Rui, currently inhabiting Shen Shiqing’s body, was in a foul mood. As the ruler of a nation, how could he possibly feel pity for a maid punished by her master? But Tu Nan had recognized the woman named Qing Ying and pleaded with him to save her.
He knew he had very few people he could rely on, and Tu Nan was the most capable among Shen San Fei’s three maids. This small favor was something he could easily grant.
Yet, watching Pei Feng send someone for a doctor, A Chi fetch medicine, and Tu Nan keep watch in the side courtyard, he felt uneasy. He wondered if he had been too lenient with these maids, allowing them to neglect him.
If his “chickens, dogs, cats, and rats” in the palace dared forget him for an unrelated person, he would have kicked their backsides.
Narrowing his eyes at the concubines, who clearly had ill intentions, Zhao Su Rui wiped persimmon juice from his hands with a handkerchief.
“You rushed over here so quickly—did you hear someone was injured? Are you here to mourn me?”
Cui Jin-Niang took a step back. Seeing the other three, along with their maids, standing as silent as quails, she also lowered her head, unwilling to be the first to speak.
Zhao Su Rui had no intention of letting them off. “What? Can’t speak? Then don’t. See that stone in the corner? Since you have nothing to do, go break it into pieces weighing ten jin each.”
The stone in the corner of the courtyard had been left behind during renovations years earlier. It was about two chi long, one chi wide, and as high as a person’s calf, weighing at least three to four hundred jin.
Without specialized tools, how could these women possibly move it?
Liu Tian-Xing, her eyes still red, bit her lip and said pitifully, “Young mistress, we’ve been sewing clothes all morning. It’s not like we have nothing to do.”
She took two steps forward, showing the young mistress the cotton fibers stuck in her nail gaps: “I’ve been tearing cotton all morning. It was fun at first, but now my wrists ache.”
Zhao Su Rui waved her off: “Don’t crowd me. Where are your manners?”
Liu Tian-Xing stared at the young mistress with round eyes, her voice sweet and soft: “Young mistress, you’re much more imposing now, and fiercer than before.”
Before? Zhao Su Rui sneered: “What was I like before then?”
“Young mistress was so wonderful before!” Liu Tian-Xing scratched her cheek somewhat sheepishly. “When you first married into the household, I was still young. When I delivered things to your courtyard, you’d give me candies—hawthorn cakes, amber walnuts… and persimmon cakes, all made by your own hands. I’ve never tasted better pastries since. Later, when Madame assigned me to Second Young Master, because I was timid and foolish, the kitchen staff bullied me and wouldn’t let me eat my fill. Young mistress sent Tu Nan to stand up for me, and even roasted water chestnuts for me using ashes from the charcoal brazier.”
Recalling the delicious treats she’d enjoyed while serving the young mistress, Liu Tian-Xing became wistful. She took several steps closer, nearly drooling as she cooed:
“Young mistress, when will you make persimmon cakes again? The red bean paste persimmon cakes you made were so fragrant and soft, I still think about them now…”
Zhao Su Rui watched as this silly girl openly swallowed her saliva, suddenly finding the persimmon in his mouth tasteless.
Red bean paste persimmon cakes?
What did those taste like?
Were they really that delicious?
“Were they really that good?” Before he realized it, he had spoken aloud.
Liu Tian-Xing nodded her head like a cotton bow.
Zhao Su Rui put down the half-eaten persimmon in his hand.
A Chi hurried back carrying the medicine box to find her young lady beckoning to her: “A Chi, go tell Tu Nan I want to eat persimmon cakes today, the ones with red bean paste.”
“Yes, young lady.”
After entering the room to put away the medicine box, A Chi came out and reported: “Young lady, Qing Ying has taken medicine and looks better than before. But the local physician Pei Feng found said her most critical issue is that she wasn’t properly cared for after her miscarriage—she’s still bleeding. He advised us to find a midwife in town or Yanjing City. Pei Feng asked the tenants, and they all recommended a good midwife in town. Pei Feng has already gone on horseback to find her.”
Zhao Su Rui snorted in acknowledgment.
Since he’d already permitted Tu Nan to save her, he didn’t mind the additional expenses.
Hearing “Qing Ying’s” name, Xia He looked up in disbelief, her eyes fixed intently on A Chi.
Noticing her gaze, A Chi glanced at her and formed an idea: “Young lady, we’re short-handed. Since Xia Concubine was very close with Qing Ying before, why not put Qing Ying in her care?”
This was a good solution. Still thinking about the persimmon cakes, Zhao Su Rui waved his hand in agreement.
Just as Liu Tian-Xing was about to follow Xia He to see Qing Ying, he stopped her.
“Tell me more—what other delicious things were there before?”
He would note them all down and have Tu Nan make them for him!
As the mighty Zhaode Emperor, was there any delicacy he couldn’t obtain?
Hmph!
In the narrow path between the two courtyards, A Chi walked briskly but spoke calmly:
“Aunt Xia, Qing Ying was rescued by our lady and Tu Nan when they went out riding. Tu Nan said she found Qing Ying beside a dilapidated thatched shed… It was her great fortune to encounter our lady, otherwise she would have been beaten to death by some ruffians.”
Hearing the word “death,” Xia He’s footsteps faltered.
A Chi glanced at her but said nothing.
Though the lady paid no mind to Xie Feng’an’s inner household, A Chi couldn’t afford such indifference. Qing Ying, being deft-fingered and gentle-natured, had been favored by the Countess, yet suddenly met with exile to Zhuangzi. Xia He, who benefited from this, was naturally the most likely suspect. Recalling how Xia He had wept while mentioning Qing Ying during garment-making sessions, A Chi grew increasingly convinced.
Her lady had entrusted her with managing Zhuangzi’s affairs, so she must share her burdens at every turn. Xia He, being ambitious and aggressive, had previously caused the lady numerous troubles under Cui Jin-Niang’s instigation. If Qing Ying’s situation could be used to suppress Xia He, it would fulfill her lady’s expectations.
Entering the side courtyard, they were met with the scent of medicinal herbs. A Chi explained, “This is the prescription from that local physician – pain relief for Qing Ying. He said she can neither promote blood circulation nor stop bleeding now, only cling to her last breath through sheer endurance.”
As they spoke, someone lifted the curtain and emerged from the room carrying a basin of dirty water.
It was Tu Nan, still wearing her sword at the waist.
After glancing at Xia He, Tu Nan told A Chi, “I just finished washing her. Now I must prepare the lady’s meal. Please take care – Qing Ying’s condition is truly… distressing. Don’t be alarmed.”
Xia He’s body trembled involuntarily.
Every word exchanged between A Chi and Tu Nan pierced her heart like gleaming silver embroidery needles, leaving it riddled with wounds.
“Aunt Xia, Qing Ying is in your hands now.”
A Chi lifted the curtain, ushering Xia He into the room to confront her long-lost conscience alone.
She then turned to a young maid tending the fire in the courtyard corner: “Stay alert. Listen carefully to whatever Aunt Xia and Qing Ying discuss and report back to me.”
Leaving the side courtyard, she unexpectedly encountered Tu Nan waiting there.
“Weren’t you going to prepare the lady’s meal?”
“I have something to say to you.”
Leaning against the wall with her sword, Tu Nan resembled a heroine from storybooks, though her delicate features made her seem more like a gentle maiden disguised as a warrior. Only during actual combat would one realize her genuine martial prowess.
Her expression turned solemn as she regarded A Chi:
“Don’t you think our lady has changed?”
Expecting something more urgent, A Chi waved dismissively: “The lady injured herself and lost all memory of the past. You’ve known this for some time.”
Hearing this, Tu Nan slightly furrowed her brow, her gaze flickering. “What exactly has she forgotten?”
Her mind kept replaying the expression their lady had worn while looking at Qing Ying.
Though their lady remained… inherently kind – the sort who would help others despite her own hardships – how could she gaze so indifferently at an innocent person brought to such ruin?
During their return journey, with Qing Ying draped over her saddle, she had watched their lady driving off those scoundrels.
A persistent thought circled in her mind.
Has our young lady lost her memories, or has she lost her heart?
A Chi looked at Tu Nan and smiled softly: “I actually think the young lady is quite well as she is now.”
Just as Tu Nan was about to retort, she heard A Chi sigh softly:
“It’s been seven years, and not once has the young lady lived as freely as she does now.”
“Tu Nan, I know the young lady has secretly tasked you with many things. She never speaks of them, and I’ve never asked. But my heart aches for her. Sometimes I even wish she were as ordinary as Xia He or Cui Jin-Niang, who only care about wealth, status, and their husbands’ affections—then she wouldn’t have to suffer so much. Now that she’s forgotten the past, I know she’ll remember it one day because she is our young lady. But before that day comes, I only want her to live as she pleases. This is what Heaven owes her.”
Tu Nan had countless words she wanted to say, but they were all silenced by A Chi’s brief remarks.
Raising her eyes, Tu Nan saw the withered vines on the courtyard wall.
Closing her eyes and sighing, she simply replied:
“Alright.”
That evening, Zhao Su Rui got to enjoy the red bean-stuffed persimmon cakes made by Tu Nan, which were indeed fragrant, soft, and delicious—ten times more satisfying than eating a plain persimmon.
“Tu Nan, I heard I used to know how to cook? How does my cooking compare to yours?”
Eating her third persimmon cake, Zhao Su Rui asked casually.
Tu Nan smiled and said, “Young lady, you don’t remember, but the little skill I have in cooking was something you first mastered by studying ancient texts and then taught me. To be honest, I’m just your assistant in the kitchen.”
Zhao Su Rui looked down at the half-eaten persimmon cake in her hand.
This… is just the work of an assistant?
How skilled must Shen San Fei be then?
“What was the most delicious dish I used to make?”
Tu Nan thought for a moment and said, “The shrimp rolls you made were extremely delicious.”
A Chi chimed in, “I actually preferred the Jia Yi paste you made.”
“Speaking of Jia Yi paste, the venison you made that year was truly cooked to perfection.”
Even the usually taciturn Pei Feng said earnestly, “The mutton noodle soup you made was excellent.”
A Chi immediately agreed, “Yes! The mutton noodle soup you made was unparalleled in the world!”
Tu Nan also nodded repeatedly.
Zhao Su Rui remained expressionless, holding a piece of the persimmon cake, unsure whether to eat it or not.
Shrimp rolls, Jia Yi paste—she had never even heard of them. They must be some pretentious, refined recipes.
As for venison, the Guanglu Si (Court of Imperial Sacrifices) presented venison every now and then, and it was nothing special. How delicious could it possibly be?
Late at night, with the rain falling silently outside, it was the perfect time for a good night’s sleep.
But Zhao Su Rui, lying in bed, suddenly opened her eyes.
How delicious must Shen San Fei’s mutton noodle soup have been?