“What brings you… here?” The question “Why are you with Xie Yuechan?” hovered on the tip of Gu Jing’an’s tongue, but he smoothed it over into something more civil at the last second.
“I was leaving the Elder Brother’s place and ran into the Third Sister-in-law on the path. She invited me over to play,” Changsheng replied, his voice a bit stiff.
Now that his health had improved, Changsheng had begun his studies at the Imperial Academy. However, unlike the other students who had a “six days on, one day off” schedule, he was granted a more relaxed “five on, two off” routine. Because of this, seeing Gu Jing’an was less like seeing a brother and more like a student facing a strict headmaster—or a mouse spotting a cat. His heart squeezed with nervous tension.
“Perfect timing. Come with me; I’ve found two books that are very suitable for an initial reading at your age.” I. Knew. It. Changsheng turned back and gave Xie Yuechan a deadpan look. She offered him a helpless, apologetic wince in return.
Lord Jing’an really does love a good academic lecture, doesn’t he? Xie Yuechan donned her makeshift apron and vanished into the kitchen. Because of the sweltering heat, she had requested ice from the main kitchen to keep the morning’s milk delivery chilled. Fortunately, the Gu family’s ice cellar was vast, ensuring a steady supply—without it, she truly didn’t know how she would survive the summer.
She planned to make “Double-Skin Milk,” a delicate custard requiring only milk, sugar, and eggs.
She poured the milk into a pot and heated it until it was just on the verge of boiling. Ladling it into bowls, she let it sit until a thin, silken skin formed on the surface. With the tip of a chopstick, she carefully pierced a tiny hole in the skin and slowly poured the liquid milk into a separate clean bowl.
She made sure to leave a tiny bit of milk at the bottom so the skin wouldn’t stick to the porcelain.
Using only the egg whites, she whisked them with sugar and then combined the mixture with the milk, straining out any bubbles to ensure a smooth finish. Once prepared, she slowly poured the mixture back into the original bowls, sliding it under the existing skins, and set them to steam.
She made three bowls in total. Initially, she hadn’t planned on including Gu Jing’an, but since he had effectively kidnapped her guest, she couldn’t very well sneak a private snack to the boy right under his brother’s nose.
I’ll just have to sacrifice a bit of my own portion, she thought ruefully.
She topped the custards with fresh fruit, instantly elevating the dish’s appearance from simple to sophisticated. Standing by her side, Jitao was struck with awe once again.
If the mung bean soup from lunch had been a simple success—a “blind cat catching a dead mouse”—then what was this? Jitao had never seen or even heard of such a dish. She couldn’t help but feel that her mistress had truly changed; ever since this morning, she had been… different.
Xie Yuechan personally carried two of the bowls—one topped with sweet melon, the other with peaches—thinking she’d let the brothers choose their favorites. Though she could have walked straight through the bedroom to reach them, she stopped politely outside the door of the small study and asked the maid, Linglong, in a soft voice, “May I come in?” Only after Linglong announced her arrival did she step into Gu Jing’an’s workspace.
The study followed the same elegant, minimalist decor as the bedroom, though every wall was lined with bookshelves. Gu Jing’an and Changsheng sat facing each other, the boy currently being grilled on his recent lessons. Judging by Gu Jing’an’s expression, the answers were reasonably satisfactory.
“Do you have a moment to spare for an after-school snack?” Xie Yuechan set the trays down on the desk with an easy familiarity, tilting her head as she asked.
The two brothers looked down at a dessert they had never seen before. It was made of milk, yet it had solidified in the bowl, trembling like tender tofu and garnished with bright cubes of fruit.
“What is this?” Gu Jing’an asked, a frown creasing his brow.
Though he had tasted her handiwork at lunch, he still harbored an instinctive wariness toward anything she brought him—and toward the woman herself.
“Double-Skin Milk. I’ll leave it right here for you.” —
Xie Yuechan remained perfectly composed. Once the snacks were served, she didn’t linger to invite his disdain; she simply offered Changsheng a quick, conspiratorial wave and slipped out the door.
Changsheng had been desperate for any excuse to stop reciting. Even though he wasn’t particularly fond of milk, he put on a show of wide-eyed anticipation, staring intently at the dessert.
Seeing this, Gu Jing’an finally relented, letting the boy pick his favorite.
Changsheng chose the melon. He scooped up a small piece with his spoon; the custard was so silken and smooth that it nearly slid right back into the bowl, looking for all the world like the finest silken tofu. He brought it to his lips, savoring the flavor.
The chilled custard glided over his palate and slipped effortlessly down his throat. To his amazement, there wasn’t a hint of that gamey aftertaste—only a clean, fragrant sweetness.
He froze in shock. Is this really the same foul-tasting milk I’m forced to drink every day?
When the boy didn’t move for a long moment, Gu Jing’an—knowing his younger brother’s frail health and notoriously picky appetite—offered a gentle, well-meaning consolation. “Your third… My sister-in-law’s cooking might not be very good. If you can’t stomach it, don’t force yourself.”
He reached out to take the bowl away.
Changsheng pulled the bowl back instantly, guarding it with his life. He shook his head with newfound determination. “No. It’s delicious.” To prove his point, he scooped up a massive spoonful and began eating with gusto.
Gu Jing’an was speechless. “…”
Is it really that good?
He couldn’t bring himself to reach for his own bowl now, but his eyes betrayed him, darting away from the pages of his book to steal a glance at the dessert.
By the time Changsheng finished his portion, he was clearly longing for more. Seeing that Gu Jing’an’s bowl remained untouched, his eyes lit up with delight. “Third Brother! I remember now—you don’t like sweets, do you?”
“…I suppose not,” Gu Jing’an replied, the word tasting like ash in his mouth.
As soon as the lie escaped his lips, Changsheng eagerly dragged the second bowl toward himself. “Great! I’ll help you finish it then. We wouldn’t want our sister-in-law to be sad if she saw you left it uneaten!”
The boy prided himself on being thoughtful, unaware that Gu Jing’an was currently grinding his teeth in frustration. He had to remind himself that he couldn’t fight his younger brother for food—it was rare enough for Changsheng to have such an appetite.
He managed to keep his hand from twitching, but his self-control was shattered when Changsheng suddenly shoved a spoonful of the custard into his mouth.
“Mmm-mm! It’s so good! Brother, are you sure you won’t have any? It’s such a waste! Here, just try a bit?”
The spoon was in before he could protest. The texture was delicate, the sweetness refined, and the finish incredibly smooth… He instantly regretted his lie.
He looked up sharply at Changsheng. The boy, startled by the sudden intensity of the gaze, gulped down the last massive bite and looked back at him, bewildered.
Gu Jing’an stared at him, his gaze dark and unreadable. He was exactly one bite too late.
“Third Brother, what’s wrong?” Changsheng asked blankly. He was full now, and he even licked a stray drop of milk from his lip with a look of pure satisfaction. “Are you upset because I used my spoon?” Seeing his brother’s grim silence, the boy’s shoulders slumped, looking deeply hurt. “I’m sorry… I forgot how much you value cleanliness.”
“It’s not that.” Looking at his brother’s crestfallen face, how could he possibly scold him?
The cost, however, was high. Gu Jing’an spent the rest of the afternoon haunted by the memory of that single, sweet spoonful. When the main kitchen finally sent his dinner, it tasted like cardboard.
Late that night, he lay on the daybed in the study, suffering from a rare bout of insomnia. It wasn’t just the memory of the “Double-Skin Milk” keeping him awake—it was the fact that the distraction had ruined his dinner, and now he was genuinely famished.
Unable to sleep, Gu Jing’an finally stood up and stepped out into the quiet courtyard, his feet leading him toward the small kitchen to see if there were any leftovers.