Ming Ying boarded the carriage alone.
The Qianwei Lou behind her had already become a fleeting blur.
What were they doing now? They were a perfect match, naturally enjoying romantic moments under the moonlight, sharing drinks and laughter.
He could take her out, but when he encountered the one he truly loved, he would see her as an unwanted burden, casually sending her away.
She clutched the peace talisman, suddenly feeling that the object in her hand was clumsy and somewhat laughable.
She used to think that perhaps there was still a space the size of a fingernail for her in his heart. She didn’t ask for much—just a little bit of his care was enough for her to survive.
But now, even that fingernail-sized space seemed too large…
Back at the estate, she casually ate a few bites of the leftover cold food from the kitchen, finally soothing the emptiness in her stomach.
Ling Shuang and Yu Zhong had both left, and the courtyard couldn’t be left unattended at night. She lit a candle, picked up the embroidery frame and threads, and resumed embroidering the unfinished sachet from last time, all while waiting for him to return.
This time, she embroidered it more beautifully, wondering if he would like it.
The night watchman’s clapper sounded—it was already midnight.
She rubbed her eyes and finally heard footsteps.
Setting down the embroidery frame, she shook off her drowsiness, replaced it with a gentle smile, and ran out. “Young Master, you’re back.”
Pei Xiaoyun had drunk a little wine and had excused himself early from the banquet, claiming discomfort. The evening breeze blew against him, causing a slight throbbing in his forehead.
Seeing the brightness in her eyes, some of his restlessness eased, and his voice softened with a hint of tenderness. “You’re still awake?”
“I’m not tired. I was waiting for you to return.” Ming Ying caught the familiar scent of powder on him, and for some reason, it stung her eyes, making them feel a little sore.
Pei Xiaoyun didn’t notice. He took her hand and led her inside, hooking a finger around an oil-paper bag. “I brought you some pastries. They’re still warm.”
After all, tonight’s events had caused her distress.
He had specifically instructed the cook to make her favorite pastries to bring back and cheer her up.
The sound of flowing water echoed in the room as he bathed. He didn’t ask Ming Ying to attend to him, so she untied the red silk ribbon around the oil-paper package.
She had already guessed what it was—it was indeed transparent flower cakes.
Beneath the crystal-clear outer layer were faintly visible flower shapes made of white horse beans. They looked delicate and exquisite, tasting soft, sticky, and sweet.
She loved these the most. Back in Yangzhou, whenever she acted coquettishly, he would buy them for her.
Pei Xiaoyun emerged wearing a moon-white thin robe, his body enveloped in warm steam from the bath. He saw her sitting with her head bowed, eating the pastries—taking small bites, with a bit of sticky bean paste filling clinging to the corner of her lips.
He sat beside her, casually wrapping an arm around her waist. “Something unexpected happened today. I’ll take you out to eat again next time.”
Ming Ying was taken aback. His warm chest pressed against her, making her eyes appear even more watery. “There’s no need, Young Master.”
Next time… was there still a next time?
Pei Xiaoyun stared at her intently.
She had never been one to refuse him. Hearing her response, he pinched her earlobe a little harder. “Are you angry?”
Ming Ying set down the pastry and quickly shook her head. “This servant isn’t angry. It’s just that you’re about to get married. If you take me out and someone sees us, I’m afraid people will gossip about you.”
Her eyes widened, filled with unmistakable anticipation.
“You really know how to think of me.” Pei Xiaoyun played with a strand of her hair. “Then we won’t go. It’ll save us the trouble. Another day, I’ll hire a few cooks to make them at home.”
Hearing this, Ming Ying gradually lowered her head.
Today’s pastries tasted less sweet than usual.
When his kisses fell like a sudden storm, she could not resist, only responding woodenly.
Before the New Year, the Old Madam’s birthday approached, and the mansion still had a birthday banquet to host.
Although Duke Qu was imprisoned, the three judicial offices had yet to reach a verdict, so the household could not afford to collapse entirely. The necessary appearances still had to be maintained.
Lady Lan, in charge of household affairs, placed particular importance on this banquet, ordering each courtyard to prepare and tidy up half a month in advance.
A scholarly family, a century-old ducal mansion—no matter how things were inside, they absolutely could not let outsiders see them as a laughingstock.
“Miss Ming, Madam has ordered you to go to the main courtyard at noon sharp. She will give instructions on the decorations for each courtyard.”
The one delivering the message was Lady Lan’s senior maid.
“Alright, I understand.” Ming Ying sat under the corridor embroidering. Knowing this maid was Lady Lan’s person, she took a few coins and handed them to her. “Sister, you’ve worked hard. Take this for some tea.”
The maid accepted the money and swayed away.
Ming Ying set down her embroidery hoop, stood up, and brushed off the loose threads on her clothes.
Because when she had been in the separate courtyard before, Lady Lan had sent two matrons to harass her, she felt somewhat fearful of Lady Lan.
Originally, the senior maids managing Lanqing Zhuoyuan were Ling Shuang and Yu Zhong. One had gone to visit family and not yet returned, the other had left, so the task naturally fell to her.
She removed the clothes and jewelry Pei Xiaoyun had asked her to wear that morning. Dressed so brightly, she feared she would be scolded.
She washed her face again, changed into a plain, subtly patterned outfit. It was still not yet noon.
But it had always been the rule that servants waited for their masters.
Afraid of being blamed for arriving late, she went early.
Lady Lan’s main courtyard was elegant and luxurious. Ming Ying walked for quite a while before reaching the Chuihua Gate. Strangely, the area was completely unobstructed, with not a single gatekeeping matron in sight.
Could Madam not be here? Ming Ying wondered.
Noon was approaching, and she dared not leave without permission. Summoning her courage, she ascended the steps and waited outside the door.
Beaded curtains swayed, and inside, faint sounds of a man and woman could be heard, interspersed with intermittent soft murmurs.
Realizing what the sounds were, a chill spread through her entire body.
Through the shimmering crystal curtain, she glimpsed the faint, indistinct shadow of a man.
Wasn’t that… the master of the second branch?
He had come to Lanqing Zhuoyuan before to seek Pei Xiaoyun’s help in pleading for Duke Qu’s case. She had even served tea to this person.
Suppressing her chaotic breathing, and fortunate that no one else was around, she lifted her skirt and hurriedly ran outside the Chuihua Gate, hiding in a pavilion, not daring to make a sound.
Half a quarter-hour later, when people from various courtyards began arriving one after another, she followed behind the crowd to enter.
Clenching her sweaty palms, she repeatedly reminded herself: she was just a lowly maid, she had seen nothing.
Lady Lan, adorned in gold and jade, wearing luxurious purple robes, emerged and lazily sat under the corridor.
Servants from all courtyards knelt in the courtyard.
Ming Ying knelt at the very back, not daring to raise her head.
“All of you, go and properly decorate your own courtyards. On the day of the birthday banquet, those who should help must come out and assist. If anyone dares to slack off or neglect the honored guests, I will have your lives!”
“Yes.”
After the instructions, everyone returned to their respective courtyards.
Ming Ying buried that incident deep within her heart.
On the day of the birthday banquet, the sun shone brightly, and birds chirped merrily.
Guests arrived early at the mansion. After offering congratulations to the Old Madam, they gathered in the waterside pavilion to listen to opera.
Ming Ying followed the other servants in arranging fruit platters, refilling tea, and attending to seats, not daring to slack off in the slightest.
A young maid, tempted by hunger, stole a piece of pastry to eat. Nanny Tian, from Lady Lan’s side, dragged her aside and slapped her hard twice.
The little maid returned with two bright red palm prints on her face, unable to stop wiping her tears with her sleeve, not daring to cry aloud.
Ming Ying’s throat tightened, afraid that her appearance would invite further punishment. She took the underglaze-red interlocking branch plate from her hands, saying, “I’ll take care of the East Pavilion. You go and serve at the West Pavilion—there are fewer guests there.”
The East Pavilion was built along the lotus pond and hosted only distinguished guests. Several elegant young ladies from noble families sat together admiring the flowers.
The plate of milk water chestnut flour fragrant cakes Ming Ying carried was intended for the female guests. She walked along the pebble path toward the East Pavilion.
Inside the pavilion.
Seated at the center was County Princess Jianing, Xiao Fuying. In the palace nowadays, not only were there no princesses, but there wasn’t even a single commandery princess, making her the most noble in status. The noble ladies seated on either side were merely her attendants.
“Today is Old Madam’s birthday banquet, so why haven’t we seen Lord Pei?” The speaker was the youngest daughter of the Vice Minister of Revenue, Chen Shuangyue. She was the type who loved to flatter and curry favor with Xiao Fuying, yet she was foolish and spoke without restraint.
Xiao Fuying remained silent, her expression turning cold.
A noble lady beside her, noticing the tension, stepped in to smooth things over: “Sister Chen may not know, but Lord Pei is disciplined and devoted to his duties, never indulging in banquets or frivolities. On a day like this, he’s likely still buried in official documents. Such a talented and handsome gentleman is truly a perfect match for the County Princess.”
Xiao Fuying’s expression softened slightly as she took a delicate sip of tea.
Chen Shuangyue silently cursed the noble lady who had spoken up for being a bootlicker.
Eager to draw Xiao Fuying’s attention to herself, she leaned closer and said, “County Princess, I’ve heard that Lord Pei once kept a mistress, and now he’s even brought her into his home. Such a seductress—you must not let her off!”
As soon as the words were spoken, silence fell over the gathering.
Everyone knew that such a remark would undoubtedly embarrass the County Princess in public.
Xiao Fuying angrily slammed her teacup down and sneered, “What do you think you are, daring to meddle in my affairs! Chun Tao, slap her!”
Chun Tao struck Chen Shuangyue’s face repeatedly, left and right, frightening the other ladies into holding their breath.
Ming Ying stepped into the pavilion, steadily placed the pastries down, and intended to collect the empty plates from the table. But hearing Chen Shuangyue’s cries of pain sent a chill down her spine.
She dared not interfere in the affairs of the nobility—she couldn’t even listen. Moreover, seated at the center was County Princess Jianing.
She thought to wait on the path until they had left before returning to clean up.
As she turned to leave, a voice from behind wrapped around her like a rope, firmly holding her in place.
“Stop.”
Xiao Fuying stared coldly at her, as if trying to bore a hole through her.
After Chen Shuangyue’s earlier remark, and with Ming Ying appearing before her at this moment, it was hard not to suspect that this lowly servant was deliberately mocking her!
Brother A Yun obeyed her every wish—how could he have strayed? It must be this wretched servant who used some despicable means to seduce Brother A Yun and cling to the Guogongfu.
“What does the County Princess command?” Ming Ying slightly curtsied, not daring to meet her gaze.
Xiao Fuying didn’t even look at her directly, instead nudging a shard of broken porcelain on the ground with the tip of her shoe. “Clean this up. Kneel and pick up every piece. If I see even a single fragment left behind, and it displeases me, you won’t need these hands anymore.”
The others didn’t understand why the County Princess was venting such anger on a mere maid, but they watched silently.
Ming Ying’s fingers tightened on the hem of her clothes, inch by inch. A sourness filled her chest, and a suffocating feeling descended upon her.
She could see the County Princess harbored great hostility toward her. Though her heart ached with injustice, she had no choice but to swallow it, forcing all unwarranted emotions back down into the depths of her being.
For someone of her status, there was no such thing as suffering to speak of.
She slowly knelt down, her fingertips reaching toward the pile of sharp, glinting tiles, pressing the cold, sharp objects into her palm.
A sharp, piercing pain shot through her, and blood dripped drop by drop from her palm.
Her nose tingled with a sour ache—she could bleed, but she must never, ever shed tears.
Head bowed, kneeling there, she was like an insignificant grain of sand, something anyone could trample upon without a second thought.
By the time she picked up the last tile, the pain in her palm had gradually numbed—perhaps there wasn’t a single patch of unbroken skin left.
The wind suddenly stilled, carrying a faint trace of sandalwood incense, and the sound of familiar, steady footsteps reached her ears.
Hearing that sound, Ming Ying’s breath hitched, and even the pain in her palm seemed to dull.
Pei Xiaoyun arrived late, spotting Ming Ying kneeling there from a distance.
“What happened?”
Seeing her palm stained crimson, his heart felt as if struck by something heavy.
Ming Ying looked up, meeting his dark, deep eyes.
He had once said her hands were beautiful, that they shouldn’t be used for rough work.
“Brother A Yun, you’ve finally come.” Xiao Fuying took his arm. “She’s clumsy and unfit to serve—she knocked over a teacup. I was just having her pick up the pieces.”
The others in the pavilion tactfully withdrew.
Pei Xiaoyun let her hold his arm, his gaze fixed on Ming Ying, his expression calm and unreadable, revealing neither joy nor anger.
“A Ying.”
Hearing those two words, Ming Ying’s shimmering eyes blinked rapidly, and the hazy outline before her grew unusually clear.
She felt that the bitterness she had swallowed wasn’t entirely silent—someone, after all, could see it.
Then, she clearly saw Pei Xiaoyun turn to Xiao Fuying, his voice soft and gentle: “Seeing blood on a day like this is terribly inauspicious.”
A moment of shock sent her world spinning, her mind buzzing.
Only then did Pei Xiaoyun spare her a word: “Hurry and leave. Don’t ruin this auspicious day.”
She lost all sensation, unaware of how she even managed to stand.
Tears flowed like a burst dam as she wiped them away, running forward without looking back.
Halfway there, she remembered she still had to clear the empty plates from the table.
If she didn’t, neglecting the guests would earn her a beating from Madam if she found out.
No one would speak up for her.
Yes, this was the life of a servant.
Whatever the masters ordered, she had to do; if they forbade her to cry, she had no right to shed tears.
She turned back, large teardrops falling onto her collar. She reached to wipe them away, only to find her hands covered in blood, with not a single clean spot left.
Returning to the pavilion, she saw the perfect pair sitting together.
Pei Xiaoyun’s voice carried both comfort and a hint of disdain: “…I pity her for being delicate and helpless. I intend to take her as a concubine someday. Just think of her as a cat or a dog—don’t trouble yourself over her.”