On the first day of the Lunar New Year, Pei Xiaoyun did not return home for the entire day.
Ming Ying seemed to have anticipated this. In the end, she did not receive the red envelope from him. He was likely comforting the ailing County Mistress at this moment.
She warmed some sweet wine with the servants who had stayed behind in the courtyard, prepared a few small dishes, and gathered with them for dinner.
The lanterns on the tree had been scattered by the wind, now sparse and scattered. She led the servants to pick them up and take them down one by one.
The New Year celebrations had ended. The fleeting joy faded away, and everything returned to normal.
It was not until the third day of the New Year that Pei Xiaoyun returned alone to retrieve his official seal.
The elderly matriarch of Prince Yi’s mansion had passed away. To demonstrate his benevolence and virtue, the Crown Prince, accompanied by members of the royal family, came to offer condolences. With the Crown Prince presiding over the mansion, Pei Xiaoyun found it difficult to leave and stayed at Prince Yi’s mansion for three days.
In the evening, a report arrived about riots in Shanxi Province during the New Year festivities. He was about to depart for Shanxi to suppress the rebels.
The Crown Prince, indulging in women and indecisive, had recently issued several decrees that favored aristocratic families while exploiting commoners.
As a result, no one outside the aristocratic families respected him. Pushed to desperation, commoners rebelled here and rioted there, with voices opposing his succession echoing everywhere.
Pei Xiaoyun often thought that to become a Crown Prince like Xiao Lang was truly a life of mediocrity.
Returning to the courtyard, he recalled how he had hastily left on New Year’s Eve, somewhat neglecting Ming Ying. He wanted to see her once more before his departure.
However, a maidservant said, “Eldest Master, Miss Ming went to the storeroom to fetch fabric for spring clothes and hasn’t returned yet.”
He nodded and waited in the room for a while, but she still did not return. His brows gradually furrowed.
Pressed for time, he decided not to wait any longer. He retrieved his personal seal and other belongings, left the corridor, and bumped into her at the Chuihua Gate.
Ming Ying had brought back a batch of rain-patterned brocade, intending to learn from the embroidery room matrons to make a set of clothes for Pei Xiaoyun. Lost in thought, she bumped headfirst into his chest.
“Young Master has returned,” she said, rubbing her head, her voice brightening. The frown that had lingered for several days finally eased. “I’ve learned to brew a new type of tea. Let me prepare a cup for you to taste.”
She had heard that he would not resume official duties until the fifth day of the New Year, so he would have two more days of leisure at home.
Pei Xiaoyun glanced at her, slightly displeased that she had returned late. “Why bother brewing tea? There’s no need. I have some matters to attend to and won’t be back for some time.”
Ming Ying suddenly looked up.
For some time? Had the County Mistress’s asthma not yet recovered?
“Shall I pack a few sets of clothes for you?”
After all, he was going to someone else’s mansion and would need clothes to change into.
“No need. While I’m away, stay quietly in the courtyard.”
Pei Xiaoyun spoke hurriedly and walked straight out of the Chuihua Gate. With his broad shoulders and long legs, he quickly disappeared from Ming Ying’s sight.
Ming Ying stared at the pale green bamboo pattern on the spring fabric, her vision growing hazy.
In the afternoon, Ling Shuang returned, carrying a bundle of snacks and treats for indulgence.
Ming Ying finally smiled.
Looking at the table full of pastries, she couldn’t help but laugh. “That day when we played Double Six, I was joking. I lost, and that’s that. Did you really buy so many snacks for me?”
Ling Shuang, knowing she was sensitive to the cold, used fire tongs to stoke the charcoal and smiled. “It didn’t cost much. The horseshoe pastries were made at my own home. The crab roe pastries were a reward from Madam. My mother works in the flower room of Madam’s courtyard, you know. Madam was in high spirits during the New Year and rewarded us with lots of food and supplies. I don’t care for them, so I brought them for you to enjoy.”
Ming Ying touched the oiled paper—it was still warm—and guessed that Ling Shuang had deliberately warmed the pastries before bringing them to her.
Her eyes stung; it was the first time a friend had been so kind to her.
She had known since before the New Year that Ling Shuang was leaving—going to Suzhou with her cousin to marry and start a business there. Even the travel permit had been prepared, and Ling Shuang had shown it to her.
Pei Xiaoyun would likely release her from servitude as well.
Ming Ying felt like a bird clinging to an iron cage, peering out as others spread their wings and flew away, leaving only herself behind.
Though she couldn’t bear to see Ling Shuang go, she also hoped for a better life for her. After all, spending a lifetime as a servant within high walls and grand courtyards offered little joy.
Thinking this, she rubbed her eyes, still filled with endless reluctance.
Ling Shuang comforted her for a while. "The Eldest Master favors you; he’ll surely make you a concubine someday. Once you bear a child or two, you’ll never have to worry about food or clothing. Isn’t that what a woman’s life is all about?"
For a moment, Ming Ying was taken aback by her words.
Strangely, she felt Ling Shuang was right. She couldn’t even articulate what more she could possibly want.
If she behaved dutifully and stayed by his side, that seemed quite good enough.
The two chatted idly by the stove. The day was still young, and they avoided further talk of departure.
Ling Shuang suddenly remembered something. "I heard that because the County Mistress’s grandmother passed away, she must observe mourning, so her wedding with the Eldest Master has been postponed by half a year."
Ming Ying was startled, nearly dropping the pastry in her hand.
A half-year delay meant the wedding would take place in the crisp autumn season.
She suddenly recalled Pei Xiaoyun’s gloomy expression and displeased tone when she had seen him earlier.
So it was because the wedding date had been pushed back, delaying his union with his beloved, that had left him so troubled.
Her gaze dimmed. The pastry in her mouth tasted like wax, and she forced herself to swallow it, only for her stomach to churn violently. Bending over, she vomited.
"What’s wrong?" Ling Shuang poured her a cup of tea to rinse her mouth.
Ming Ying’s face was deathly pale from retching, and it took her a long time to recover.
"These past few days, I haven’t dressed warmly enough. I must have caught a chill again."
She often sighed at how, despite not being some delicate, pampered young lady, she had somehow developed a fragile constitution. Even a mere cold made her vomit whatever she ate.
The crab roe pastry was made with lard dough—no wonder she couldn’t stand the smell.
Seeing her like this, Ling Shuang urged her to rest. "Go lie down then. Since the Eldest Master isn’t here, we can all slack off a bit."
For several days in a row, Ming Ying often felt drowsy.
She enjoyed playing Double Six, but she was too exhausted to muster any energy. In the afternoons, while Ling Shuang and the others played, she would curl up in her room to sleep.
She couldn’t stomach the meat dishes from the kitchen either, finding relief only in lightly stir-fried seasonal vegetables.
She had no idea what was wrong with her. Without a fever, she couldn’t recklessly take any fever-reducing pills. As a servant, no matter how unwell she felt, she couldn’t call for a doctor unless she was on the brink of death.
On the day of the Lantern Festival, Lady Lan showed rare mercy, granting all the servants in the mansion a night off to visit the temple fair outside.
Hearing she could go out, Ming Ying finally perked up a little.
Remembering Pei Xiaoyun’s warning, she had initially dared not leave the mansion casually. Only after learning he had gone to Shanxi did she feel at ease, though a strange sensation crept into her heart.
So he had gone to Shanxi on business.
This time, she wouldn’t wander off or speak to strangers. He shouldn’t find out.
On the night of the Lantern Festival, the streets were ablaze with lights and fireworks, and the crowds emptied the lanes.
As usual, she went out with Ling Shuang. The streets were a sea of lanterns, fireworks intertwining everywhere. Men and women in festive attire walked hand in hand, while scholars and beauties drifted on boats across the lake. The entire capital roared with joyous sounds.
The bright lanterns reflected in her eyes, and she suddenly remembered how, two months ago, Pei Xiaoyun had taken her out to a lantern festival once. Though it wasn’t as grand as the Lantern Festival on the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, she had never been able to forget that night.
Even though it ended in the familiar disappointment, she could still draw a few precious moments of sweetness from it.
The Lantern Festival was always a day for lovers, and sure enough, Ling Shuang’s cousin came looking for her again.
Ming Ying didn’t want to disturb them, so she followed from a distance, enjoying the dragon and lion dances on her own.
The old street performer could even breathe fire, and several children nearby jumped through flaming hoops. Amid the thunderous cheers, she smiled and clapped, tossing a few coins into the collection box.
Walking further along the river, she bought many novel trinkets. Her feet grew sore, and she could barely walk anymore, so she sat in front of a clinic, waiting for Ling Shuang and her cousin to return from solving lantern riddles.
The crowd thinned, and a cold wind swept through. Covering her mouth and nose, she sneezed. Behind her, the clinic was brightly lit, and her own shadow was clearly reflected on the ground.
Thinking of how she hadn’t been feeling well for the past half month—unable to seek medical help while in the mansion—she decided that since she was finally out, she might as well get some medicine to brew and drink, hoping to recover faster.
Inside the clinic was a young female physician. After Ming Ying entered, the physician took her pulse. Seeing it was a woman, Ming Ying felt less reserved.
"Sigh, I can’t seem to get a proper fever, but this discomfort just won’t go away. I don’t know what’s wrong—can you prescribe something strong to treat it?"
After checking her pulse, the female physician said to her, "Miss, no matter how strong the prescription, you can’t take it. You’re pregnant—almost two months along."
Author’s Note:
One more wave of heartbreak, and then I’m off.