Qing Ying ended up drinking the bowl of porridge that Xia He had brought.
The porridge was mixed with minced chicken and ginger. After a few sips, Qing Ying began to sweat. By the time she finished, a wave of warmth seemed to wash through her long-dormant internal organs, and soon she fell into a deep sleep again.
Xia He quietly gathered the bowl and utensils and stepped out. Seeing a young maid brewing medicine under the corridor eaves, she thought for a moment and walked over, taking a small pouch from her waist to offer:
“Would you like some malt candy? I’ll share one of the two pieces inside with you.”
After a pause, Xia He added: “You can have the pouch too.”
The young maid had lived on the Zhuangzi since birth and had never seen much of the world. She gazed longingly at the exquisitely embroidered pouch but didn’t dare reach for it:
“Auntie Xia, if I take your things, I’ll lose my position.”
In the past, such words would have made Xia He roll her eyes and curse, but now she awkwardly withdrew the pouch and said in a strained voice:
“Miss A Chi certainly knows how to manage people.”
Xia He could swear to heaven she meant nothing by it, yet the words came out strangely, as if she were insulting someone.
Placing the malt candy beside the medicine bowl, Xia He retreated in discomfiture.
Walking along the narrow path back to the innermost courtyard, she found the other concubines of Xie Feng’an still sewing clothes with their maids. Liu Tian-Xing cheerfully rushed over when she saw Xia He enter:
“Xia He, how is Qing Ying?”
But Xia He didn’t want to elaborate. She walked directly to An Nian-Nian’s side: “An… Sister An, could we speak privately for a moment?”
An Nian-Nian, who had been cutting fabric, set down the charred willow twig in her hand, wiped her palms, and said: “Come inside with me.”
Xia He had come to borrow clothes from An Nian-Nian for Qing Ying—she knew Qing Ying would never wear her own garments. After much deliberation, approaching An Nian-Nian seemed the only option.
“I’m not taking your clothes for nothing. I still have a bolt of fine silk—I’ll bring it to you tonight.”
Stooping to ask favors was unfamiliar terrain for Xia He; even her tongue felt clumsy.
An Nian-Nian didn’t immediately respond, her clear black-and-white eyes studying this usually haughty, vain woman.
Back at Ning’an Lord Manor, when the young mistress paid no mind to household affairs, their food and clothing allowances were all equal. Though Liu Tian-Xing’s father was valued by the Lord, she herself was too simple-hearted. An Nian-Nian’s own grandparents had been the old madam’s attendants, holding little status in the manor. Only Xia He, relying on her status as a Xie family house-born servant, always strove to dominate, dragging her and Liu Tian-Xing into conflicts with Su Yao’er, who was from Qinhuai.
After Cui Jin-Niang entered the household, she often egged Xia He on to take the lead. Xia He, wary of An Nian-Nian for bearing Xie Feng’an’s eldest son and daughter, gradually distanced herself from her and Liu Tian-Xing, considering them dead weight.
After several breaths with no response from An Nian-Nian, Xia He grew increasingly uneasy:
“If you don’t care for the silk, I also have a pair of embroidered shoe uppers with hibiscus patterns…”
A cabinet door creaked open, and a bundle appeared before Xia He.
An Nian-Nian sighed above her head and said leisurely: “I sorted these out last night. Give them to Qing Ying to wear—most are eighty to ninety percent new. I heard her bleeding hasn’t stopped, so I also included a few menstrual pads I made last night. The soft shoes inside are from Tian-Xing; she hasn’t worn them yet. When she heard I was gathering clothes for Qing Ying, she eagerly brought them over.”
Xia He couldn’t utter a word, merely clutching her bundle as she bowed to An Nian-Nian.
An Nian-Nian hastily stepped aside, her gaze sweeping past Xia He’s bare earlobes.
Returning to her room with the bundle, Xia He frowned as soon as she entered.
“Cui Jin-Niang, what are you doing in my room?”
Cui Jin-Niang glanced through the window crack at the courtyard outside. She had seized the opportunity to find Xia He while A Chi was away.
“Xia He, you heard the commotion in the front courtyard the night before last, didn’t you? I suspect it was Second Master coming for us, but the Young Mistress intercepted him.”
Hearing the words “Second Master,” Xia He froze momentarily before replying in a detached tone:
“With Su Yao’er on one side and Miss Feng on the other, where is there room for us in Second Master’s eyes? We’ve all been banished to the Zhuangzi—why haven’t you given up hope yet?”
Hearing this, Cui Jin-Niang chuckled inwardly. This Xia He appeared formidable, yet among these women, she was the easiest to manipulate—neither as dull and uninteresting as Shen Shiqing, nor as timid and wooden as An Nian-Nian, nor as easily pleased as Liu Tian-Xing with mere treats. She was clever yet foolishly devoted, of servant origins yet unwilling to accept her lowly status.
In short, Xia He wanted everything, and Cui Jin-Niang knew exactly how to twist her around her finger.
“Give up hope? Xia He, are you truly content? Su Yao’er, a woman from the brothels, with only a daughter to her name, somehow manages to hold Second Master’s heart…”
Xia He lowered her head slightly. In the past, she would never have been content, for she had feelings for Second Master.
Since being selected at age six to serve as a cleaning maid in the Madame’s courtyard, all she had seen and thought about was Second Master, three years and four months her senior. Dressed in brocade robes, wearing jade crowns, and adorned with gemstone pendants at his waist, he appeared a hundred times more spirited than the servants in the courtyard. Second Master could recite poetry, paint, and even carry birdcages to amuse young maids like her.
But what about Second Master? On the day she was expelled from the estate, he hadn’t even glanced at her. Old Woman Song, who escorted her out, was the in-law of Second Master’s wet nurse, Liu Momo. Usually all smiles around her, that day Old Woman Song had been ferocious, even snatching away the hidden money box from her hands.
Xia He never asked for Second Master’s whole heart. As a concubine of servant origins, she didn’t deserve it. She only wanted a tiny fraction—was it wrong to crave that sliver after committing every wicked deed and losing all conscience?
“Cui Jin-Niang, just say directly what you want to do.”
Cui Jin-Niang adjusted her hair at the temple and smiled. “Xia He, since you can come and go from this courtyard, why not seize the chance to scout the front…”
Even after Cui Jin-Niang left, Xia He remained silent, her brows furrowed. When she was alone in the room, she raised a hand to touch her earlobes, then opened the cabinet and pulled out the clothes she had made for Second Young Master. After a glance, she shoved them back into the deepest part of the cabinet.
While carrying the items she had prepared for Qing Ying out of the courtyard, Xia He happened to meet A Chi.
“Madam Xia, please wait a moment.”
A Chi stopped her.
“Since Qing Ying was saved by our young lady’s decision, she will naturally be well cared for. A few pieces of malt candy and a chicken leg—our Zhuangzi can afford that much. There’s no need for Madam Xia to spend extra.”
As she spoke, A Chi untied a pouch from her waist and poured out a pair of silver earrings adorned with gold beads.
After delivering the silver clove discovered from the kitchen to Xia He, A Chi returned to the main courtyard and nearly jumped out of her skin upon looking up.
“Miss! You’re having your monthly courses! How can you carry stones?”
The twenty-something-pound stone made Zhao Su Rui grit his teeth. Evading A Chi’s attempt to assist, he lugged it with much stumbling and swaying, finally managing to haul the stone to a corner in the rear alleyway.
The ache in his waist nearly brought him to his knees. Propping himself up on his legs, Zhao Su Rui stood unsteadily, panting as he spoke: “Since I’ve resolved to build strength, I must start immediately. You all say these courses last four or five days each month. Should I rest for four or five days this time, then another four or five days next time? When will this wretched body of Shen San Fei ever be fit for horseback riding and hunting?”
A Chi was momentarily speechless, forced to watch helplessly as her mistress caught her breath before turning back to move more stones.
Zhao Su Rui wore a pair of leather gloves and a man’s black Tierli robe, over which lay an ivory-colored duijian surcoat—all hastily tailored by A Chi into masculine attire. The clothing was manageable, but Zhao Su Rui truly couldn’t manage his hair, leaving it styled in a feminine fashion adorned with plain hairpins, creating a rather incongruous appearance.
Seeing her mistress drenched in sweat from exhaustion, A Chi sighed and fetched a cloak from the room, ready to drape it over her the moment she finished training.
There were over twenty stones—the larger ones weighing more than twenty pounds, the smaller ones over ten pounds. The distance from the corner of the courtyard to the alley measured about twenty zhang. After a dozen round trips, Zhao Su Rui was already dizzy and his arms trembled, yet he clenched his teeth and moved every last stone.
When A Chi hurried to offer the fur cloak, he pushed it away.
“Not done yet!”
Assuming a basic Changquan stance, he stretched his muscles and bones. By the time he completed the full set, Zhao Su Rui was nearly collapsed.
As A Chi half-supported, half-dragged him to rest, Zhao Su Rui gasped: “No sitting… walking, walk for a quarter-hour.”
“Miss, why must you torment yourself like this?” Wrapping her mistress in the cloak, A Chi nearly burst into tears.
“Torment? As long as one lives, one must strive each day. Otherwise, why not just lie down in a three-foot grave early?”
With that, Zhao Su Rui laughed and straightened up.
If he were to resign himself to inaction just because he now inhabited Shen San Fei’s body, he’d be nothing but another Shen San Fei.
After walking a few steps and flexing his arms, he felt a pleasant surprise: “These arms are better than I expected. The soreness faded quickly—in a few days I can add archery practice.”
Taking a few more steps, Zhao Su Rui turned back to look at A Chi standing frozen in place.
The maid in her blue bijia apron was weeping profusely, startling the brilliant and mighty yet sore-backed Zhaode Emperor.
“What are you crying for?”
A Chi opened her mouth, her sobs finally breaking free: “Miss! It’s been years since I’ve seen you like this! Wuwuwuwu! Miss, I’ll train with you! Once we’ve built up our strength, let’s go horseback riding in the northern frontiers! We’ll also visit Jiangnan, Quanzhou… Wuwuwuwu!”
Zhao Su Rui found the little maid’s weeping irritating, but lacked even the energy to shout. He could only say with a stiff face: “Stop crying!”
“Wuwuwu!”
Glancing at the sunset-draped sky, his expression turned utterly defeated as he could only say:
“Alright, alright, I get it. Your young lady will take you horseback riding—to the northern frontier, to the Jiangnan region, to Quanzhou—we’ll go everywhere, is that good enough?”
“Mm!” Watching her young lady reluctantly coax her, A Chi finally wiped away her tears and smiled.
“Once you’re done crying, go tell Tu Nan to prepare something hearty for dinner.”
Moving stones makes one hungry quickly—Zhao Su Rui felt the half-braised pork elbow he’d eaten at noon had already been fully digested.
“I want fried meat chunks!”
“Let’s have something lighter for dinner. Take the shrimp meat, mash it into a paste, season it, then wrap it in blanched cabbage leaves. Lightly pan-fry them in oil infused with dried shrimp and star anise, then steam until cooked.”
The evening glow streamed into the hall as Shen Shiqing, still reviewing memorials, casually dictated the recipe.
San Mao quickly noted it down, then glanced at Yi Ji.
Yi Ji shook her head slightly.
“Speak your mind. There’s no need to play charades in front of me.”
Shen Shiqing set down her brush and placed the memorial on the corner of the desk: “Take this memorial to the Ministry of Revenue. Ask them if their prestigious ministry can’t even calculate accounts properly—how can they claim this year’s harvest is excellent while letting these Princes come cry poverty to me?”
“Yes!” Two-Dog reverently picked up the memorial and withdrew.
San Mao cautiously smiled and said: “Your Majesty, this servant meant no offense. It’s just… the rear palace… the Empress Dowager sent someone to ask when you plan to summon consorts? Others may be overlooked, but you haven’t visited the Empress’s quarters for over twenty days.”