Fluffy white snowflakes fell like goose feathers onto the gray, dusty eaves. A pair of swollen, red little hands reached out to catch one, only to be immediately withdrawn with a shiver as the cold bit into them.
“Damn, when was it ever this cold before?!”
Ye Jinghe looked down at “his” hands—ten fingers swollen like ten little red radishes, aching and itching all at once. Yet he knew full well that this was actually the best condition they’d been in for years, all things considered.
At least there were no cracks, no pus, no yellow fluid seeping out, right?
In Ye Jinghe’s memory, he hadn’t been this cold since the cement road was built in his hometown.
But years of chilblains weren’t so easy to cure. Even with the heater blasting, they still ached and itched.
No matter how much the chilblains tormented him, though, it was still better than living in this ancient era where even brushing your teeth meant chewing on willow twigs!
Every time Ye Jinghe closed his eyes, he heard snippets of storytelling audio playing like a mantra. Before he’d come here, the aunties in the village loved to play those story recordings out loud, and Ye Jinghe always tried his best to avoid them.
Little did he expect that even after transmigrating, he still couldn’t escape.
That book had five to six hundred chapters in total. Ye Jinghe had listened for a full day and night before finally nearing the end.
The book was written from the female lead’s perspective. As the true daughter among a pair of switched-at-birth daughters, she was brought back home and, in place of the fake daughter, married off to the male lead—a notorious playboy with a wandering eye.
After the marriage, the female lead was tormented by her mother-in-law in every way imaginable. The male lead lived his life freely, taking concubine after concubine. After enduring false accusations, cold treatment, a miscarriage, the loss of a child, and countless other trials, she finally made the male lead see her crystal-clear, ice-pure heart.
And then—he stopped caring about his mother, stopped caring about his concubines, and they got their happily ever after, oblivious to the world!
Ye Jinghe nearly spat blood listening to it. But not on the female lead’s behalf—on his own!
The little white rabbit of a female lead was eventually stained black by the infighting of the great manor. The first thing she did after her awakening was to make a move against the male lead’s servants.
After all, if you want to seize power, you have to put your own people in place first. That was understandable enough…
But Ye Jinghe wanted to make it clear: he could not understand!
Because he was now Changfeng—the servant who got his legs broken, was kicked out of the Pei residence, and froze to death on the streets!
Ye Jinghe’s first thought after finishing the entire book was to run. Floor it, don’t stop, don’t rest, just run!
But… the howling wind and snow outside thoroughly dissuaded him. He wasn’t ready to fast-forward to the ending just yet.
After a long stretch of intense internal deliberation conducted with a completely blank face, Ye Jinghe crouched by the brazier, scooped out a lump of lard, rubbed it between his palms until it melted, and then carefully spread it evenly over his fingers.
Well, one good thing about being in the Pei household: lard that poor families couldn’t even bear to eat was now available for him to smear on his hands.
All because the young master had said:
“Changfeng is so pitiful—please treat his hands quickly!”
There was naturally no doctor to be had, but folk remedies worked well enough. As the grease seeped into his skin, whether it was just a placebo effect or not, Ye Jinghe actually felt the itching ease somewhat.
After that, Ye Jinghe checked the time, estimated that the young master would soon be getting up, and went to the tea room to fetch some hot water. He washed the grease off his hands and dried them.
The young master was delicate—there was no way he could stand the smell of lard.
Just as he straightened up, a middle-aged servant came hollering at the top of his lungs:
“Changfeng! Changfeng! Where have you run off to slack off now?! Hurry up—the young master wants to play with mud whistles with you!”
This old servant was called An Xin. He’d originally been given to the young master by Old Madam Pei, and he was quite arrogant on account of his seniority.
The original owner of this body had been here for a month, either getting nitpicked for slacking or subjected to all sorts of snide remarks. The original was timid and couldn’t sleep at night—who knew if it was sheer fright that had done him in.
Ye Jinghe let out a silent sigh. The original was gone, but he was only seven years old now. There would be plenty of grinding ahead under this old bastard.
“Uncle An, I’m right next door. With a voice that loud, you’d better be careful not to startle the young master—he only just had an episode of heart palpitations a few days ago…”
An Xin shrank his neck, shot Ye Jinghe a glare, and lowered his voice to threaten:
“Shut up! Keep spouting your doom-and-gloom nonsense and I’ll have the master throw you out of the house!”
But Ye Jinghe wasn’t intimidated:
“I was chosen by the young master. Are you trying to make decisions over his head?”
You don’t even know who your master is, and you’re barking here?
As Ye Jinghe said this, he noticed a young servant sweeping the courtyard glance over at him. Got it—that one’s a spy.
After being poisoned by that story for a full day and night, Ye Jinghe had already picked up all the skills of manor intrigue without any formal training.
“You—! Sharp-tongued little brat! I’d like to see how long the young master keeps favoring you!”
With that, An Xin flicked his sleeves and stormed off, looking rather like he was fleeing in defeat.
Ye Jinghe said nothing. He lifted his foot and headed toward the young master’s quarters. The young master’s courtyard was no small affair—a dozen or so rooms in total, each serving a different purpose.
At this hour, though, Ye Jinghe figured the young master would be in the study.
“Young master?”
Ye Jinghe pushed open the second door from the left and saw an adorable little dumpling of a child, dressed in a soft yellow jacket trimmed with red piping—the spitting image of a New Year painting doll.
“Changfeng! How do you always manage to find me first?”
Pei Du had deliberately told An Xin to say he wanted to play with clay whistles, yet Ye Jinghe hadn’t gone to the toy room to find him—he’d come to the study instead.
“Just a guess, young master. The floor is cold—please get up first.”
“It’s not cold, not cold! I’ve got my bottom cushioned! Here, Changfeng, you can play with this clay whistle—it’s a big rooster, and it goes cock-a-doodle-doo!”
Ye Jinghe let out a sigh. Truth be told, he felt worse about the book underneath Pei Du’s bottom. This tome was said to be a unique annotated edition by a great scholar of the previous dynasty, and now it was serving as nothing more than the young master’s seat cushion.
“Young master, if you catch a chill, the master and madam will punish me severely. You wouldn’t want to see me kneeling in the snow, would you?”
Ye Jinghe spoke with honeyed words, and before Pei Du could even react, he turned toward the door:
“Then perhaps I should just go kneel right now and accept my punishment willingly.”
“Don’t, don’t, don’t! Changfeng, stop! I’ll get up, I’ll get up!”
Ye Jinghe turned around and extended his hand. Pei Du reluctantly placed his small hand in Ye Jinghe’s palm:
“Don’t kneel—you’ll get sick.”
Ye Jinghe pulled the young master up in one motion, but his original body was too thin and lacked strength. The young master’s hand slipped, and he plopped back down onto his bottom. He was about to burst into tears, but remembering what Ye Jinghe had just said, he held it in.
“Changfeng, don’t be scared. I won’t cry, so Father and Mother won’t punish you.”
Ye Jinghe sighed softly. Since arriving here, he’d found himself sighing more and more often.
“It was my fault that the young master fell. If the master and madam wish to punish me, that is only right. The young master need not cover for me.”
Ye Jinghe paused:
“The master and madam both dote on the young master. If something happens to you, you shouldn’t hide it from them. If my own parents were here, I wouldn’t hide anything from them either.”
“But then you’d be punished.”
Pei Du looked at Ye Jinghe’s hands, frowning:
“Your hands aren’t healed yet—how could you kneel in the snow?”
“The master and madam are kind-hearted; they wouldn’t punish me that harshly.”
“But you just said—”
Ye Jinghe: “…”
This five-year-old wasn’t so easy to fool after all!
In the end, after much back-and-forth, Pei Du got up from the ground and settled on punishing Ye Jinghe by making him watch him play with the clay whistle until he was done.
The candlelight inside flickered, casting a warm glow across the entire study. The little yellow dumpling sat on a rosewood chair, blowing into a clay whistle shaped like a little figure in red robes. He swung his little legs back and forth, looking utterly carefree.
Watching this scene, Ye Jinghe found it hard to imagine that this child would one day grow into that dissolute young master who caroused in pleasure houses and sat idly by while his wives and concubines fought for his favor.
“Alright, alright, I just can’t do anything with you! Here, you take this one to play with—press your finger here and blow gently!”
Pei Du handed the big rooster clay whistle to Ye Jinghe. Ye Jinghe stood frozen in place—he didn’t like this kind of little kid stuff!
A moment later, the room was filled with a continuous cock-a-doodle-doo, cock-a-doodle-doo.
“Young master, the madam requests your presence for dinner.”
From outside the door came An Xin’s sudden voice. Pei Du was startled, and the clay whistle slipped from his hand, shattering into two pieces with a crack.
“My clay whistle!”
An Xin pushed the door open and walked in. He glanced at the broken whistle on the floor and feigned surprise:
“Young master, how could you be playing in the study? If the madam were to find out, she might rap your palms!”
Pei Du’s eyes welled with tears. Ye Jinghe took Pei Du’s little hand and gently shook his head:
“It’s only just past the fourth quarter of the mao hour—this isn’t study time. Everything should balance work and rest. Uncle An, why are you scaring the young master like this?”
An Xin shot Ye Jinghe a cold glare:
“I think you needn’t be called Changfeng anymore—call you Changtongue instead!”
“You—hold your tongue!”
Pei Du stood up and stepped in front of Ye Jinghe, his almond-shaped eyes fixed intently on An Xin:
“Get out right now!”
“Young master! You’re still young—you must be careful that this wicked servant doesn’t lead you astray. If so, I’ll have no choice but to report this to the old madam!”
“You!”
Pei Du’s face flushed red, at a loss for words. But Ye Jinghe said calmly:
“That’s fine. I’ll go by Changtongue from now on. Uncle An, you must call me that from here on—if you call me anything else, I won’t answer.
But when the time comes, I’d like Uncle An to explain exactly how I got that name!”
An Xin was left speechless. He hastily tossed out a “Young master, prepare yourself—I’ll carry you to see the madam” and left.
Once the study door clicked shut, Pei Du burst into laughter:
“Changfeng, you’re amazing! I could never win an argument against An Xin!”
Ye Jinghe smiled and shook his head:
“Come, young master. It’s snowing heavily outside today—shall I fetch you a cloak? Would you like the white fox fur one, or the red plum brocade one?”
“The red plum brocade one! Wearing white when it’s snowing is way too plain!”
Ye Jinghe acknowledged with a cheerful “alright,” smiling as he fetched the cloak and draped it over Pei Du. The little yellow dumpling instantly became a little red dumpling.
When An Xin scooped Pei Du up, Ye Jinghe followed behind, his steps unsteady in the snow, trailing after An Xin’s pace.
But An Xin was deliberately being mischievous, walking very quickly, and Ye Jinghe had to jog to keep up. It was only after Pei Du coughed twice that An Xin, fearing the young master would catch a chill from the wind, finally slowed down.
Even so, by the time they reached Madam Pei’s Jianjia Courtyard, Ye Jinghe was already out of breath.
Pei Du only cast a worried glance at Ye Jinghe but said nothing, merely pressing his lips together as he walked into his mother’s courtyard.
Inside, six braziers warmed the room to a cozy temperature. Madam Pei had prepared a table of light dishes. Pei Du stepped forward and respectfully addressed her with a single word: “Mother.”
“You’re here. Have a seat.”
Pei Du had been raised under Old Madam Pei’s care since childhood, moving to his own courtyard at the age of three. His relationship with Madam Pei could well be described as “familiar strangers.”
After Pei Du acknowledged her, Madam Pei picked up her chopsticks. The two sat facing each other, eating in complete silence, like a pantomime—watching it gave Ye Jinghe a stomachache.
When the meal was finished, Madam Pei finally swept a glance over Ye Jinghe and, as if casually, asked:
“Did anything happen in your courtyard today?”
Ye Jinghe’s heart immediately leaped into his throat. He knew it—Madam Pei had planted eyes and ears in her son’s courtyard!