Pei Yanshu strode through the courtyard, his steps carrying a gust of wind, and walked straight into his small room, slamming the door shut behind him with a loud “bang” that shook the doorframe.
He leaned against the door for a moment, faintly able to hear the sounds of conversation and laughter drifting from the front hall.
Pei Yanshu threw himself onto the bed fully clothed and pulled the quilt over his head.
Hah, Murong Jin, putting on such a proper act.
Dingsheng cakes? Crab roe pastries? Zhenwei Zhai?
Just these little favors, a few measly pastries, and they’re worthy…
She actually smiled at him?
I work like an ox and a horse in this shop every day, and I can’t compare to a few lousy pastries?
Pei Yanshu wrapped the quilt tighter around himself, but it couldn’t block out the intermittent noises from outside, nor A Man’s occasional raised voice.
Fine, if she loves to smile so much, then let her smile her fill.
Do I, Pei Yanshu, need to beg anyone?
…
He irritably turned over under the quilt, the wooden bed creaking in protest.
So what if they’re Suzhou pastries? Tomorrow… no, I’ll go right now! I’ll buy out every pastry shop in the entire West Market!
Just then, a soft knock sounded at the door.
Pei Yanshu’s eyes lit up. He immediately rolled out of bed, hastily straightened his collar, and pulled open the door with feigned composure—
Morning light flooded in as the door opened.
But standing outside was not the person he had expected.
Xiao Ya stood there holding a steaming bowl of plain noodles in broth, topped with a golden fried egg and sprinkled with green scallions.
He looked up, staring unblinkingly at Pei Yanshu.
Seeing this always quiet, silent child, Pei Yanshu’s heart softened, and his disappointment dissipated.
He took the bowl of noodles and ruffled Xiao Ya’s hair. “You’re the one who knows how to care for people.”
Xiao Ya ducked his head slightly from the ruffling, but his eyes curved into a shy smile.
Carrying the bowl, Pei Yanshu walked to the small square table in the room and sat down.
Xiao Ya didn’t leave. He followed him in and sat on the small stool opposite, placing his hands on his knees, quietly watching him eat.
The noodles were cooked just right, neither too soft nor too firm. The broth was light yet flavorful, and the fried egg was perfectly done, the yolk still soft and runny.
Seeing Pei Yanshu was almost finished, Xiao Ya took out the small notebook and charcoal pencil he always carried from his pocket. He lowered his head and wrote carefully, then pushed the notebook towards Pei Yanshu.
The page was pushed in front of him, neatly written: Why are you angry? Are you afraid the shopkeeper will abandon us?
Pei Yanshu was stunned.
He stared at the line of words, reading it over and over, as if seeing for the first time the weight carried by this combination of characters. He had never imagined his own agitation could be interpreted this way.
Pei Yanshu looked into Xiao Ya’s clear eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing. For the first time, he didn’t respond with a joke or by changing the subject. Instead, he met his gaze and asked seriously, “How… how did you come to think that?”
Xiao Ya took back the notebook and lowered his head to write again. This time he wrote slowly, stroke by stroke, as if recalling something from a distant past. When finished, he gently pushed the notebook over.
The page was filled with neat lines, like a nursery rhyme everyone knows:
The peddler carries sweets through the lane, giving them to children he sees.
Tiger Boy gets some, Little Girl gets some, I watch quietly from afar.
The carrying pole moves on, the sugar jar is empty, no one looks back to see.
Xiao Ya pushed the paper in front of Pei Yanshu and looked up at him, her eyes free of any resentment, as if saying: See, that’s how it was.
These few short lines recounted an old memory from her childhood.
A street vendor had been handing out malt candy in the alley. All the other children received a share, but she stood alone in the distance, waiting. In the end, she went unnoticed, left only to watch the empty candy jar and the vendor’s retreating back as he carried away his empty load.
Pei Yanshu saw it at once and understood her unease.
He reached out and ruffled her hair, not too gently but not too roughly either, his tone teasing yet domineering:
“Just for this? That vendor must be blind, not noticing such a well-behaved child. Next time I run into him, I’ll buy his whole load of candy and pile it right in front of you for you to eat as you please. I’ll make him regret it so much he slaps his thigh, and from then on, he’ll recognize only you!”
Xiao Ya’s eyelashes fluttered, and a faint smile slowly spread in her eyes. She nodded vigorously.
Seeing her like this, Pei Yanshu deliberately teased her again: “Alright, no more frowning. Tomorrow, I’ll buy you some freshly fried Zhang’s crispy oil bubbles and hide them for you to eat secretly, without sharing with anyone!”
Xiao Ya’s eyes instantly lit up like stars. She nodded hard, picked up her bowl, and quietly closed the door behind her as she left.
Meanwhile, in the front hall.
Seeing Shen Nianyi concentrating on checking accounts behind the counter, Murong Jin decided to try breaking through with the shop assistants instead.
He noticed Da Chun clumsily trying to fold a bolt of silk neatly and walked over with a smile.
“Brother, let me help you.” Murong Jin skillfully took the silk and folded it into a neat square in just a few moves.
Da Chun stared in amazement: “Young Master Murong, you even know how to do this?”
“I know a little.” Murong Jin smiled gently and glanced at Da Chun as if casually. “Speaking of which… have you encountered any happy news lately, brother?”
Da Chun was taken aback and instinctively touched his face, confused: “No, I haven’t…”
“Strange.” Murong Jin feigned puzzlement. “I noticed joy between your brows and a rosy complexion. I thought perhaps your ‘red love star’ was stirring.”
“Really?!” Da Chun immediately perked up, forgetting his earlier confusion. “Young Master Murong, you can read fortunes? Take a closer look for me, quick!”
This exclamation immediately drew A Man over. She put down the feather duster in her hand and came closer: “What red love star stirring? Da Chun, are you getting married?”
Seeing the timing was right, Murong Jin went along: “This brother’s face does indeed look promising—honest and blessed. If you can seize the opportunity…”
“Where’s the opportunity?” Da Chun pressed eagerly. “Which girl is it? Is she pretty? Is her temper good? Can she cook? My mother says…”
A Man immediately cut in: “Young Master Murong, then take a look at me! I lost three hairs while combing my hair this morning. Does that mean I’m about to have peach blossom luck too?”
Surrounded by the two of them, Murong Jin maintained his composure: “Miss A Man, don’t rush. Let me take a closer look…” He pretended to ponder. “Your face does glow with a rosy light today. There is indeed a happy event approaching.”
“Really?” A Man excitedly tugged at Da Chun’s sleeve and shook it. “Hear that? I have happy news too!”
Da Chun refused to be outdone: “Young Master Murong mentioned me first! My red love star is already stirring!”
“My rosy glow is already showing!”
“I asked first!”
“I came first!”
“My matter is more important!”
“My matter is important too!”
The two of them argued back and forth, leaving Murong Jin waving his hands repeatedly. “Don’t rush, you two. The nature of good fortune differs for each person…”
“What difference?” they asked in unison, four eyes fixed intently on him.
Murong Jin had a sudden inspiration. “Brother Da Chun’s good fortune lies in marriage, while Miss A Man’s lies in wealth.”
“Wealth?” A Man’s eyes lit up. “How much wealth? Enough to buy that gilded hairpin in the East Market?”
Da Chun pressed urgently, “Then when will my marriage come? Can I meet her tomorrow?”
Murong Jin was overwhelmed by their questions, struggling to maintain his refined and elegant demeanor. “Well… Brother Da Chun’s marriage should come within three to five days. The other party is likely a round-faced girl who loves to smile…”
“Round face?” Da Chun immediately began counting on his fingers. “Miss Liu who sells Hu-style pancakes has a round face, Miss Zhao from the cloth shop also has a round face…”
A Man anxiously interrupted, “Young Master Murong, what about my wealth?”
“Miss A Man’s wealth…” Murong Jin’s gaze swept over the pouch at her waist. “Should arrive within the next few days. It might even be an unexpected windfall.”
“Unexpected windfall?” A Man immediately clasped her hands together. “Heaven bless me, let me find a money pouch!”
Da Chun muttered discontentedly, “What’s so good about finding a money pouch? I want to marry a wife!”
“Marrying a wife costs money!”
“So what!”
The two argued until their faces were flushed red, squeezing Murong Jin between them and shoving him back and forth.
Murong Jin’s gentle smile was barely holding on. The folding fan in his hand was knocked askew, and a few strands of his hair came loose from his topknot, disturbed by A Man’s waving arms.
Murong Jin thought to himself: Had I known it would be like this, I should have just gone to discuss business with Shen Nianyi directly…
Just then, Shen Nianyi looked up from the account book, her voice soft yet clear. “Da Chun, your marriage is in the storeroom. Go and take inventory of the newly arrived cloth first. A Man, your wealth is at the counter. This customer has been waiting for you for quite some time.”
Only then did the two notice the neglected customer standing to the side with a helpless expression. A Man hurried forward to attend to them, while Da Chun slunk off toward the backyard.
Murong Jin finally managed to extricate himself, discreetly straightening his disheveled lapels.
He walked up to the counter and was about to speak when he saw Shen Nianyi had already lowered her head again to work the abacus. “If Young Master Murong has nothing to do, perhaps you could help Xiao Ya bring in the cloth by the entrance. It’s about to rain.”
Murong Jin: “…”
For the first time, a crack appeared in his elegant smile. He could almost hear the sound of his composure straining.
To think he, the young master of the Murong family, who controlled the southern mining veins and was treated as an honored guest wherever he went—when had he ever been… ordered around like a menial laborer?
He took a deep breath, attempting to maintain his poise. “Manager Shen, I came here to discuss…”
“I know.” Shen Nianyi didn’t even look up. The crisp, rapid clicking of the abacus beads seemed to accompany his embarrassment.
“Wait until I finish calculating this account. If you please, if those bolts of cloth get rained on, their colors will become dull. I’ll have to trouble you, Young Master Murong.”
Her tone was too calm, too matter-of-fact, as if ordering him to work was the most natural thing in the world.
Murong Jin’s hand inside his sleeve tightened slightly. In the end, he still turned and walked toward the entrance.
He saw Xiao Ya struggling to lift a heavy bolt of satin. Murong Jin stepped forward and, with movements that still retained the elegance of a scion from a noble family, effortlessly took the bolt of cloth from him.
Xiao Ya looked up and gave him a shy, grateful smile.
Just then, the curtain at the back courtyard rustled, and Pei Yanshu emerged unhurriedly, holding an empty teacup.
His eyes immediately landed on Murong Jin, who was “diligently working” at the entrance, and Shen Nianyi behind the counter.
Pei Yanshu raised an eyebrow, and a smile brighter than sunlight instantly spread across his face. He sidled up to the counter, extending the empty cup toward Shen Nianyi, his voice drawn out lazily, “Nianyi ah—the tea’s gone.”
Shen Nianyi’s fingers, busy with the abacus, paused, tightening slightly.
What act was he putting on now?
Yesterday, he had inexplicably stormed off in a huff, and this morning, he had ignored her completely. And now, here he was, acting as if nothing had happened, calling her so affectionately?
Why was it that Pei Yanshu could be so capricious—cold one moment, warm the next? Disappearing when he pleased, reappearing just as he wished?
Shen Nianyi deliberately avoided looking at him, her voice icy. “Don’t you have hands?”
Pei Yanshu paid no mind to her cold expression. “Ah, but these hands are meant for strategizing and wielding the brush…”
He even had the nerve to argue, deliberately glancing toward the entrance. “Besides, isn’t someone already helping us with the rough work…”
Shen Nianyi almost laughed in disbelief.
She didn’t want to look at his smug face any longer. Snatching the empty cup with obvious irritation, she bent down to retrieve the teapot from under the counter, slamming it onto the counter with a loud thud. With a splash, she poured the cup full, tea splattering and leaving dark stains on the wood.
“Finish it and disappear,” she glared at him, enunciating each word clearly. “Don’t get in the way here.”
Pei Yanshu flinched under her glare, nearly dropping the teacup. Just as he was about to offer some excuse, Murong Jin gracefully approached.
“Manager Shen,” Murong Jin elegantly wiped away nonexistent sweat. “The fabrics at the entrance have all been tidied up. The weather is stifling—might I trouble you for a cup of tea?”
Shen Nianyi immediately switched to a smiling face, her change of expression so swift it left Pei Yanshu stunned. “Young Master Murong, you’ve worked hard.”
With practiced ease, she fetched a clean cup, filled it to just the right level, and gently pushed it toward him. “Please.”
Murong Jin accepted the teacup, took a slow sip, and offered Pei Yanshu a refined, gentle smile.
Pei Yanshu: “…”
He looked down at the cup in his own hand—the one Shen Nianyi had disdainfully filled to the brim—then at the perfectly poured “hard-earned tea” in Murong Jin’s hand. Fuming, he tilted his head back and downed the lukewarm tea in one gulp.
He slammed the empty cup heavily onto the counter with a loud thud, drawing another glare from Shen Nianyi.
“Young Master Pei, what’s the matter?” Murong Jin feigned concern. “Is the tea not to your liking?”