"Delicate thing, bear with it."
Who he was comforting, and who he looked down upon, was self-evident.
She ran back to her courtyard, tears streaming down her face.
That night, a storm swept in with fierce winds.
The fiery red charcoal flickered, unwillingly whimpering and struggling. Rainwater whipped through the curtains, extinguishing the dying flames completely.
As a mere servant, she had no medicine in her room and could not leave the estate without permission to tend to her wounds. She could only go to the stables and ask for some healer's ointment—the kind they used specifically for injured horses. Applied to a human, it might still serve some purpose, she thought.
After all, cats, dogs, and horses were all livestock kept to please their masters and serve their whims—no different from one another.
She bandaged her hands herself, one after the other. As soon as one hand was wrapped, the other bled anew, as if the blood would never stop.
The intense pain overwhelmed her senses, leaving her head dizzy and heavy.
Yet, no matter how muddled her thoughts, his words remained clear and merciless in her mind.
No wonder he enjoyed controlling her every smile, frown, and gesture. The slightest disobedience would earn her a humiliating punishment.
It turned out he only saw her as a plaything—something to amuse himself with in idle moments and discard when bored. A cat, a dog, or even less than a person…
Would she spend the rest of her days kneeling at his feet, trying to please him while enduring the beatings and scoldings of his wife? Would this be her life from now on?
She had once thought there might be a small place for her in his heart.
But she was wrong. It was merely his frivolous amusement with a pet, not affection for a person.
He never considered that she could feel pain, grievance, or sorrow. Nor would he ever address her by her proper name.
Blowing out the lamp, she lay on her side and heard his footsteps.
Pei Xiaoyun had seen off his guests and fetched a bottle of wound medicine from the physician to stop bleeding and reduce scarring. Expecting her to be waiting up for him as usual, he was surprised to find the corridor empty.
Entering her room, he found her lying on her side on the bed, her fair cheek slightly swollen. He smoothed her disheveled hair and noticed her eyes tightly shut—perhaps she was asleep.
Her hands were tucked firmly under the covers, pressing down on the quilt. He wanted to check her wounds but feared waking her.
Well, if she was asleep, the injuries couldn't be too severe.
He would have her apply the medicine tomorrow.
Ming Ying was not asleep.
When she heard him return, a pang of sorrow struck her, but unlike before, she did not complain of her grievances or offer explanations.
Instead, she instinctively turned away, closing her eyes and facing the wall.
She sensed him watching her for a long time, his cool fingers brushing her skin before he placed something by her bedside.
A surge of warmth filled her chest, and she desperately wanted to ask him face-to-face: once he married the County Mistress, how would he dispose of her?
The thought consumed her, nearly bursting forth.
But just as she was about to turn and call out to him, she heard the door curtain rustle open again.
Then, silence fell, broken only by the steady patter of rain.
The next morning, she had no excuse to avoid him.
Pei Xiaoyun did not have her serve him. Instead, he applied the medicine to her wounds himself—an unprecedented gesture.
"Why did you bandage it like this? Look, your fingers are red from the tightness."
"This servant does not know how to bandage properly." Ming Ying watched the man's earnest expression and was reminded of his words to the County Mistress the day before—each syllable clear, echoing in her ears.
It was like when a cat or dog he had raised for nearly four years was injured. On a whim, he might show a hint of concern.
Of course, it was only leftover concern that he would spare for her.
"I came to your room last night to tend to your wounds, but you were asleep. I couldn't bear to wake you."
Ming Ying didn't know what to say.
He had come, she knew.
The ointment meant for horses seemed to have little effect when applied to human hands. The wound on her palm was hideous and winding, with pink flesh turned outward. As the ointment touched it, she hissed in pain, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Delicate thing, bear with it a little. Once the medicine is applied, it won’t leave a scar."
Pei Xiaoyun showed no softness, not allowing her to pull her hand back. He applied the ointment in one go, and seeing her face scrunched up in pain, he wiped her tears with his thumb.
"I asked the servants in the mansion. Weren’t you supposed to be serving in the West Pavilion yesterday? How did you end up in the East Pavilion?"
He didn’t want Ming Ying to encounter Xiao Fuying. Their statuses were worlds apart—one a concubine, the other a wife—and he would have to navigate the situation with great effort.
"They shirked their duties and slacked off, pushing everything onto you. They swapped your tasks, and you didn’t know how to refuse? I’ve already severely punished the maid who was originally supposed to serve in the East Pavilion."
Ming Ying closed her palm and looked at him quietly.
What did any of this have to do with others? In the end, he was still blaming her for going to serve in the East Pavilion without permission and encountering the County Mistress.
He didn’t want his fiancée to gain a reputation for being domineering. First, he dismissed her without asking for an explanation, and today he took his anger out on others. After all, they were childhood sweethearts, truly a perfect match.
"Why are you so gloomy?" Pei Xiaoyun, seeing her remain silent for so long, tilted her chin toward him.
Ming Ying touched her face and forced a pale, weak smile. "Young Master applied medicine for me. I’m very happy."
As the year drew to a close, the Provincial Administration Commissioners of Huguang and Zhejiang submitted two urgent memorials. Large caches of buried weapons had been discovered in the suburban forests of both provinces, raising fears of a secret rebellion.
This matter was no small affair. The Crown Prince was furious and immediately dispatched Pei Xiaoyun to Huguang and Zhejiang to handle the situation.
It had already been a month since Pei Xiaoyun left the capital.
The various courtyards in the mansion were already being decorated in preparation for the New Year.
Currently, Lady Lan was managing the household. She paid no attention to Lanqing Zhuoyuan, and the New Year goods purchased from the storeroom were not sent over. With Pei Xiaoyun away, the courtyard remained desolate.
Ming Ying and Ling Shuang discussed taking a few servants to the streets to buy some New Year goods. If Pei Xiaoyun returned and the courtyard lacked any festive atmosphere, it would be too lonely.
An inconspicuous carriage left the mansion.
It had snowed all night again.
As the year-end approached, the streets were filled with nobles. The soldiers of the Capital Garrison dared not slack off, clearing the snow and making way, allowing ordinary people to benefit as well.
The carriage stopped in an open space. Ming Ying hadn’t been out in a long time.
Pei Xiaoyun didn’t allow her to leave the mansion casually. Taking advantage of his absence on official business in Huguang and his prolonged absence, she dared to venture out. The cold wind flushed her cheeks, and her eyes seemed washed clean, pure and bright.
Ling Shuang held her hand and took her to buy some aged wine and festive banners.
Passing by a candy stall, the vendor called out to them, "Young ladies, would you like to try these sugar melons and sugar lotus roots? They’re very sweet."
Each tried a piece. Ming Ying loved sweets, but the money for purchases came from the mansion’s funds. She couldn’t outright say she wanted some, so she said, "Sister Ling Shuang, let’s buy a little. We can all eat them together on New Year’s Eve."
"How could they last until New Year’s Eve? I think you just want to eat them yourself!" Ling Shuang saw through her thoughts and sighed helplessly. "Fine, I’ll buy a little for you. Don’t tell the others."
Ming Ying revealed a pair of dimples. "Sister, you’re so good to me."
The two of them wandered for another hour, having bought nearly everything they needed. As they were about to climb into the carriage to return, Ling Shuang's cousin spotted her and waved, calling out to her.
Ling Shuang flushed and pretended not to notice him.
Ming Ying understood the situation perfectly. She nudged Ling Shuang and whispered in her ear, "Go on ahead. I'll wander around on my own and wait for you to come back."
The carriage stopped in front of a music hall called Fuguang Lou.
After Ling Shuang left, Ming Ying stood in front of Fuguang Lou, waiting for her.
From inside the hall came the clear, bright sound of a pipa. She recognized it as the tune "Yangzhou Slow."
Back at Mianyuelou, she had studied the pipa for three years. With this piece, she could close her eyes and know exactly which strings her fingers should dance upon.
"Young lady, today the hall is performing a new piece, 'Spring River, Flowers, and Moonlight.' Would you like to come in and listen?"
Ming Ying's expression wavered, as if she had heard something unbelievable. "I can go in?"
But she was a woman.
The attendant at the entrance smiled. "Young lady, this is a music hall. Everyone, regardless of gender, age, or background, is welcome to enjoy the arts."
Ming Ying looked inside and indeed saw groups of men and women, with every seat filled. Among them were elegantly dressed nobles, solemnly seated scholars in white robes, and even women who laughed heartily and clapped in appreciation.
The melody wound its way past intricately carved jade railings, slipped past her ears, and soared into the clouds, circling several times before fading.
Back at Mianyuelou, the older sisters had taught her that once you ended up in such a place, you were destined for a lowly life and should not hold yourself above others.
The pipa was played for men to hear, and dances were performed for men to watch. If those men were pleased and spent a fortune to favor someone, that person would have a better life.
Thus, she had never truly listened to this piece with care.
It turned out to be quite beautiful.
She brushed past several women leaving the hall and, unable to resist, stepped inside.
On the high stage, a group of women danced, their dazzling red robes fluttering like thousands of butterflies taking flight.
On the other side of the stage hung a variety of paintings.
Among them was a vast landscape painting, "A Thousand Miles of Rivers and Mountains," where brushstrokes formed mountain ranges and splashes of ink became flowing rivers. As she gazed at the painting, she felt as though she had been transported to a place she had never set foot in, with the vast river wind sweeping toward her, lifting the hem of her skirt.
"Mr. Lin's painting of camellias is beautiful, but two thousand taels is far too high a price. It's not plum blossoms, orchids, bamboo, chrysanthemums, peonies, or tree peonies—just wild camellias. It's simply not worth it. If you could lower the price a bit, I might consider it."
The man in blue robes, who was interested in buying the painting, haggled with the young painter.
Ming Ying turned her gaze to the camellia painting, and her eyes lit up.
In that moment, it felt as though she had returned from the vast expanse of the world to a quiet, secluded path. After the howling river wind came endless threads of rain. The pale white camellias in the painting were rendered with exquisite charm, blooming in the rain, making her want to reach out and touch them.
She was surprised that a painter would choose to depict camellias. She had thought she was the only one who liked to paint them.
Pei Xiaoyun did not care for these flowers.
She only dared to pester him to teach her how to paint them when he was in a good mood.
The painter in white robes slowly rose and took the painting back from the buyer. "In that case, I won't sell it. Please leave, Young Master."
"Just a worthless camellia painting. I don't even care for it!"
The buyer stormed off in a huff.
Ming Ying stared at the painting for a long time, completely unaware that the painter in white robes had noticed her.
"Young lady, do you like this painting?"
Ming Ying snapped out of her thoughts and immediately praised it. "Mr. Lin, this painting is truly beautiful."
The man wore wide sleeves and a long robe, his face clear and bright, like flawless white jade.
He had heard many people flatter him and thought this young girl was pretending to understand what she did not. He smiled and said, "If it's not plum blossoms, orchids, bamboo, chrysanthemums, peonies, or peonies, there's not much worth seeing."
Ming Ying shook her head seriously, thinking for a moment before replying, "The flowers Mr. Lin mentioned grow in fertile soil, often in wealthy households. They require careful tending to bloom, and even when they do, they are only for the enjoyment of those who planted them. But camellias are different. They grow in the wild, needing only a little sunlight and rain to bloom across mountains and fields throughout the entire winter."
They are beautiful and resilient, never stingy with their beauty.
The man was visibly moved. He turned his head to look at her—a pure and lovely face with a faint smile. Though her features were delicate, her clothing did not suggest she came from a noble family.
He sensed that her words had come from the heart and was about to speak when a piece on stage ended. A woman holding a pipa came down and said, "Mr. Lin, did I make a mistake just now? One note seemed off. I truly love this piece, but I can never play it well. I'm going home tomorrow and won't be able to come for a while."
"Miss Fang, please wait. Mr. Lin is painting right now."
A servant raised a hand to stop the woman.
While speaking with Mr. Lin, Ming Ying had noticed that the final phrase of the piece was played too quickly. Keeping this in mind, she said to the woman, "In the fourth measure of the last phrase, sister, your finger-rolling was too fast. That part tends to rush, so just keep your wrist steadier."
The woman assumed she was Mr. Lin's disciple.
Mr. Lin, named Lin Xian, was not only a master painter but also accomplished in poetry and music. The dozen or so pieces he had composed for Fuguang Lou always drew packed audiences.
She hadn't expected even his disciple to be so skilled and humbly thanked Ming Ying.
"Do you play the pipa, miss?" Lin Xian asked Ming Ying after the woman left.
Ming Ying replied, "I studied it for a few years in the past."
Beyond that, she offered no further details.
"Still, I find it somewhat unbelievable."
Lin Xian was puzzled. "Why do you say that, miss?"
Ming Ying wasn't sure how to answer him.
What could she say? Her family had fallen into ruin when she was young, and she had spent three years in a brothel before being redeemed by her master. Now she was a maid in a wealthy household, with the prefix "concubine" attached to her title.
She had been to very few places and met few people. Whether in Yangzhou or the capital, she had always been confined to a small backyard.
She had never seen a place like Fuguang Lou, where the music and dances were not performed to please men but out of personal passion, to be appreciated by more people.
"I never imagined that men, women, young, and old could all watch, playing or dancing whenever they wished."
Lin Xian noticed the deep-seated sorrow between her brows and simply asked her, "Do you enjoy playing the pipa, miss?"
Did she enjoy it?
Ming Ying searched her heart. It seemed she did.
But whenever she picked up the pipa, she would always recall her past at Mianyuelou. She never played voluntarily unless Pei Xiaoyun was in the mood and ordered her to play for him.
"Grass and trees have their own nature; why seek the admiration of beauties? The winds and moon over rivers and mountains have no permanent master. Music, chess, calligraphy, and painting should first and foremost be created for oneself."
Lin Xian felt that the woman before him had eyes that were pure and clear, yet they were always tinged with an inescapable gloom.
It was as if the light and shadows of the world had never truly shone into them.
He said gently, "All rivers flow through the nine provinces. Only by setting foot on the journey yourself can you truly appreciate the grandeur of mountains and rivers."
Listening to his words, Ming Ying felt as if she were once again immersed in the world of the painting. Surging waves had opened the floodgates of her heart for the first time, overflowing her barren soul.
"Thank you, Mr. Lin." Though she didn’t know why she was thanking him, the words slipped out.
Afraid that Ling Shuang would not find her upon returning, she prepared to take her leave.
"Wait, miss."
Lin Xian brought over the painting, unfurling it with fluid grace. "This camellia painting is for you."
Ming Ying was startled, hastily declining, her words stumbling. "Your skill is extraordinary, this painting is too precious…"
"Selling it to those vulgar people would only tarnish my work. I feel a connection with you, miss. As the saying goes, a kindred spirit is priceless."
He insisted on giving it to her. Unable to refuse his earnest gesture, Ming Ying carefully rolled up the painting and tucked it into her embrace.
After leaving Fuguang Lou, her heart still raced from his words.
Back at the estate, she remained unsettled, as if still swaying on the deck of a ship amidst the waves.
Entering the courtyard, Yu'er ran over, her face etched with worry. "Sister Ming, you’re finally back! The Eldest Master returned early this morning and has been looking everywhere for you."
Ming Ying’s heart jolted, her fingertips turning cold.
Had he returned ahead of schedule?
Though she had longed for his return, a fear more overwhelming than anticipation now gripped her—she had gone out without permission.
After storing the painting safely in her room, she changed her clothes and went to see him.
Pei Xiaoyun had rushed back on horseback, the exhausting journey leaving him weary, with restless agitation spreading through his eyes.
He reclined in an armchair, feigning sleep, until the sound of light footsteps approached. The long fingers that had been lightly tapping the tabletop stilled.
"Young Master is back." Her voice remained clear and melodious.
He opened his eyes abruptly, his tone low. "Where have you been?"
Author’s Note:
Male lead number two makes his appearance.