Early in the morning, the sachet samples sent from the Sewing Room were already laid out in a full spread across the desk. After that came the banquet menu from the kitchen for the Dragon Boat Festival, and then item after item from the Storehouse—five-colored threads, mugwort, calamus, and cups for realgar wine—all carefully recorded by name, waiting for the young madam’s decision. Young maidservants moved back and forth along the corridor, some carrying boxes, others delivering messages. Even the air carried the fresh scent of newly cut fabric mixed with the faint bitterness of herbs and grass.
Wen Yunyi sat by the window couch, a Xiangfei bamboo side table in front of her.
Today she wore a moon-white jacket embroidered with fine branching orchid vines. Underneath was a very light snow-violet undergarment, and a frost-blue soft satin skirt with delicate threadwork. The layered cool tones made her already striking face appear even cleaner. One hand flipped through account books while the other casually sorted through sachet samples. Her movements were unhurried, yet they subdued the bustle of the entire room.
Bai Lan stood beside her, sorting everything by category.
“This box is for the Young Lady. This one is for Madam’s courtyard. These few are what the kitchen said they want to keep for the Dragon Boat Festival banquet, to distribute to the younger relatives who come to pay respects.”
Wen Yunyi first looked at the box prepared for Xu Mingshu.
The Sewing Room had clearly gone for convenience—everything for the young lady was pushed toward bright, youthful tones. Pale yellow, peach pink, light willow green. The patterns were mostly begonias, double lotus flowers, and butterflies among blossoms. At first glance it looked lively, but on closer inspection it was overly crowded, with nothing held back.
She picked up a pale yellow satin sachet embroidered with layered begonias and held it to the window light before setting it down again.
Before coming into this world, Wen Yunyi had been an art student. She was more sensitive than most to color intensity and composition. What should recede, what should stand forward—she could distinguish it at a glance. In aristocratic inner courtyards, clothing and sachets looked like small trinkets, but in truth they were like paintings: the worst mistake was for everything to compete for attention.
“Mingshu is still young. Bright colors are fine,” she said, pushing the sachet aside, “but she already has a pale yellow brocade skirt with begonia motifs this season, and even the hem is full of floral patterns.”
“When the clothing already has flowers, the sachet must step back. It cannot be lively all the way from hem to waist. Change it to a bean-green base with small branching pomegranate embroidery. The tassels should not use pure gold—tone it down to a light honey wax color. Keep it lighter.”
Bai Lan immediately picked out the bean-green sachet and noted it down separately.
Wen Yunyi then flipped to another box—the Duchess’s set.
This one was much more restrained: jade tones, tea white, moon blue, all with longevity patterns, hidden eight treasures, and vine scrollwork. But precisely because it was too proper, it felt dull. Her fingertip lightly tapped a jade satin sachet, and she suddenly smiled faintly.
“The room is already stuffy from illness. If even the sachets are this lifeless, it will only make it feel more unwell,” she said, setting it aside. “For Mother’s sachets, there is no need to aim only for plainness. Use lotus-silk white fabric and embroider small honeysuckle blossoms. Inside, don’t use ordinary fragrance alone—add a little mint, dried citrus peel, and angelica. The scent should be fresh, not sweet. Replace the tassels with pale green thread. No gold beads—just two small white jade beads will do.”
When she studied painting in her past life, she valued negative space and layering. The same principle applied here.
Danzhi happened to be there retrieving last year’s Dragon Boat Festival records for the Duchess. Hearing this, she couldn’t help but glance up.
She had served the Duchess for years and seen many fine things, but someone who could think so precisely about sachet fragrances, tassel colors, and overall balance—without falling into vulgarity—was rare indeed.
She did not interrupt, only silently noted it down.
Further along was Listening Rain Pavilion’s set.
Qing Tao had originally expected the young madam to make adjustments here, but Wen Yunyi only glanced at it and said, “For Concubine Jiang, the colors do not need to be too bright. She is slender and cannot carry overly strong florals. Use lotus-white and light tea tones, with a few fine sprigs of jasmine. The fragrance should also not be too strong—use perilla leaf and a little patchouli. Clean and refreshing.”
The words were plain, yet they accounted for person, clothing, fragrance, and color all at once.
Listening beside her, Qing Tao suddenly realized that even a small sachet could contain such complexity.
They were only halfway through organizing the sachets when Madam Wang from the kitchen arrived holding the zongzi list.
This time she was noticeably more cautious than before. Her smile was restrained. She first bowed at the door before daring to present the list. “Please review it, Young Madam. This year it is the same as before—half sweet, half savory. The servants did not dare make any changes, so we came to ask for instruction.”
At this, Wen Yunyi became slightly interested.
She set the sachets aside and took the zongzi list, flipping through it casually. “These have always been your standard fillings?”
Madam Wang hesitated. “Naturally.”
Wen Yunyi looked over the listed fillings and slowly recalled the zongzi she had eaten in her past world.
Every Dragon Boat Festival before, supermarkets, street stalls, and stores were filled with countless varieties—large and small, sweet and savory: chestnut, purple rice, salted egg yolk, mushroom with fresh meat. The best sellers were never the most expensive ones, but the ones that made people want to take a bite at first glance—and still not feel tired after finishing two.
She lowered her gaze to the list and said slowly, “The large zongzi remain the same—for elders and banquet tables. No need to change those. But for the young ladies and younger generation, switch to small corner-shaped zongzi. One bite each is best—refined and easy to distribute.”
“In sweet varieties, in addition to red date and red bean paste, add two more: red bean with dried citrus peel, and chestnut paste with osmanthus. Red bean can be heavy, so add citrus peel to lighten it. Chestnut paste is already soft—adding osmanthus will prevent it from becoming overly sweet.”
Madam Wang’s eyes lit up.
After so many years in the kitchen, she had never heard such combinations before. Yet the more she thought about it, the more reasonable they seemed.
Wen Yunyi continued, “For savory ones, keep pork and salted egg yolk. But add diced mushrooms to the pork—don’t mince it too fine. It will enhance the flavor. Also make a small batch of ham and bamboo shoot zongzi. Not many—separate them out for Madam, the young master, and those with lighter tastes. If they are well received this year, add more next year.”
Then she added, as if remembering something, “Also, do not mix the string colors. Sweet ones use light red, savory ones use green. The ham and bamboo shoot ones should be tied with a thin gold thread knot so they can be distinguished at a glance.”
With that, the entire kitchen list seemed suddenly to come alive.
Qing Tao couldn’t help smiling. “This will make the banquet much more interesting.”
Madam Wang nodded repeatedly. “The Young Madam’s ideas are truly clever. Even hearing it makes one feel it is better. The corner zongzi will take more effort, but each one being bite-sized will make them look refined when served.”
Wen Yunyi smiled faintly. “Whether food is good or not depends not only on the filling, but on how it is arranged and separated.”
As she spoke, her fingertip tapped lightly on the list, as if recalling modern festival food displays—neatly categorized packaging, colors, and flavors that let people know at a glance what they wanted to choose.
“If the kitchen finds it troublesome, then separate them properly. Banquet items, household distribution, and samples for the young ladies—each should be made in separate batches. Don’t mix everything together and rely on explanation later.”
Madam Wang was now completely convinced. “The Young Madam has truly considered everything.”
Wen Yunyi only said, “Food is what enters the mouth. It should never be handled carelessly.”
Just then, someone came to report that the Storehouse’s mugwort was not fresh enough. Some leaves had already wilted, but the stewardess still wanted to mix them in and distribute them anyway, saying it did not matter since they were only hung on doors.
Wen Yunyi stood and went out personally.
The bundles of mugwort were piled under the corridor. At a glance, fresh and old were mixed together. The fresh ones were green and firm; the old ones were soft and gray, their scent already faded.
The Storehouse manager, Old Madam Liu, had assumed it did not matter since Dragon Boat Festival decorations were only symbolic. She had not expected the Young Madam to come in person.
She nervously smiled. “Young Madam, these leaves are still usable for hanging…”
“Hanging them is for seasonal tradition and for their cleansing scent,” Wen Yunyi said, picking up a wilted stalk. With a light pinch, the leaf collapsed. “Hanging something like this is no different from putting dead grass at the doorway.”
Old Madam Liu’s face immediately flushed.
Wen Yunyi tossed the stalk back into the basket and stood. “Sort the fresh ones first. Send them to the Main Chamber, Main courtyard, and Young Lady’s courtyard. The old ones—do not mix them. Send them to outer courtyards and side gates. Record clearly where each bundle goes. If any household ends up with old mugwort, the responsibility will be charged to that gate.”
Old Madam Liu quickly bowed and agreed, not daring to hesitate.
It was a small matter, resolved in only a few sentences, yet it carried more weight than a punishment. Because she did not merely scold—she made everything clear, even where fault would land.
When Wen Yunyi returned to the corridor, not even a trace of sweat appeared on her forehead, as though she had merely brushed away a bit of dust.
Danzhi, who had witnessed everything, returned to the Duchess and reported it. The Duchess, leaning back against her cushion, smiled. “She is truly learning how to manage these trivial matters now.”
Danzhi replied, “Not only managing them. The Young Madam even discussed zongzi with the kitchen—size, string colors, even separation of sweet and savory. This servant found it quite remarkable.”
The Duchess’s interest was piqued. “Oh? She even intervened in kitchen affairs?”
“Not quite intervened,” Danzhi said with a smile. “More like she already has her own method in mind. Once she speaks, everything becomes orderly.”
The Duchess took a sip of tea, saying nothing further, though her smile deepened slightly.
That evening, Xu Jinzhi returned home.
He first went to the Duchess’s courtyard to pay his respects. The Duchess’s condition was slightly improved—still coughing, but more energetic than before. She mentioned casually, “Your wife has indeed helped me a lot these days. The kitchen, Sewing Room, and Storehouse all came to report, and nothing was left in disorder. She even came up with new zongzi ideas—red bean with citrus peel, chestnut with osmanthus, small corner shapes… quite interesting. If they turn out well, you’ll benefit too.”
Xu Jinzhi listened, a faint trace of surprise rising in him.
He knew Wen Yunyi had become steadier recently, but he had not expected her to refine even such small details into something new.
When he left the courtyard, dusk had already deepened. The corridor carried the faint bitter-clean scent of mugwort. As he walked toward the Main courtyard, he saw warm lamplight glowing through the window from afar.
Inside, Wen Yunyi was seated at the desk, with Bai Lan handing her another old household record.
“This is last year’s Dragon Boat Festival gift registry,” Bai Lan said softly. “Two households have changed since then. Madam suggested you review it first if you are unsure.”
Wen Yunyi took it and began turning the pages carefully.
Just as she was reading, footsteps paused outside. She looked up, and Xu Jinzhi had entered.
He had returned earlier than usual, faint traces of outdoor wind and dust still on him. His gaze first swept over the table filled with records, sachets, and colored threads before landing on her.
“You are still not finished?” he asked.
“Only halfway,” Wen Yunyi replied, turning a page. “If Your Lordship finds it cluttered, you may rest inside first.”
Xu Jinzhi did not respond. Instead, he stepped closer and glanced at the ledger. “You are reading the Cui family and Lu family records?”
“You know them?” she asked.
“The Cui family received a new official appointment this spring. Their gift should be slightly heavier than last year. The Lu family’s old Madam passed away in February. Although they are not in mourning for Dragon Boat Festival, overly lively gifts would be inappropriate,” he said quickly, as if these thoughts had already been arranged in his mind.
Wen Yunyi paused, then noted both points beside the margin.
“That saves me from checking two books,” she said.
Xu Jinzhi looked at her.
She always spoke to him like this now—neither cold nor overly warm. When needed, she asked plainly. Even her tone carried no deliberate politeness.
Yet strangely, it was more comfortable than forced courtesy or calculated softness.
Bai Lan quietly gathered a few sachet samples and withdrew. Qing Tao followed quickly, taking the five-colored threads with her.
Soon, only the two of them remained in the room.
After a moment of silence, Xu Jinzhi said, “You are more capable than I thought.”
Wen Yunyi looked up. “Your Lordship did not think highly of me before, I assume.”
This struck precisely at the point.
Yet Xu Jinzhi did not get angry. After a pause, he only said, “I was indeed too shallow before.”
Wen Yunyi simply smiled faintly and turned another page. “Since you know that now, don’t stand there blocking my reading.”
It was clearly a dismissal.
Yet it did not invite anger.
Xu Jinzhi looked at her, the corner of his lips lifting almost imperceptibly. He actually stepped aside and, without a word, replaced the teacup beside her with a fresh one.
When the cup was placed down, Wen Yunyi glanced at it briefly. She did not thank him, nor did she chase him away again.
Outside, dusk deepened. The newly delivered mugwort carried a faint herbal bitterness. Inside, lamplight slowly brightened, casting a warm glow over the sachets, ledgers, and threads spread across the desk.