The snow showed no signs of stopping. The bluestone slabs Wan Tang had just swept were soon covered with another layer.
Snow piled up on her head and shoulders, even frosting her eyebrows and long lashes. From a distance, she looked like a moving snowman.
When Zhao Fu arrived at Jinxiu Garden, he was taken aback by this sight.
He looked up at the swirling snow, then glanced at the already-cleared areas of the courtyard, his eyes twitching. “Miss Wan Tang, what are you doing?”
Wan Tang raised her head, her nose and cheeks flushed red—whether from the cold or exhaustion was unclear.
Seeing Zhao Fu, she forced a stiff smile. “What brings you here, brother?”
“I came to retrieve the cloak. After all, it’s the Marquis’s possession. It isn’t quite appropriate for it to remain in Jinxiu Garden.” Zhao Fu didn’t mention that this was Xiao Zhi’s request. Though a servant, he knew when to cut corners. As long as tasks were done well, Xiao Zhi never arbitrarily scolded or punished them.
He had originally assumed Wan Tang would bring the cloak to Meiyuan herself the next day and hadn’t planned on making a special trip.
“That’s fine, but my work isn’t finished yet.” Wan Tang timidly glanced toward the main room, showing a troubled expression.
As a fellow servant, Zhao Fu understood her predicament. Without the master’s order to stop, how could she simply cease working? So he said, “Keep sweeping for now. I’ll go pay my respects to the Eldest Mistress.”
Wan Tang nodded gratefully to him and resumed sweeping the snow.
Zhao Fu sighed silently. After a brief moment inside, he emerged smiling. “Miss Wan Tang, go fetch the item quickly. I told the Eldest Mistress I caused trouble by damaging a piece of clothing and asked you to help mend it.”
Wan Tang set down the broom, asked Zhao Fu to wait in the covered corridor, and returned to her room to retrieve the cloak.
As Zhao Fu took the cloak, he deliberately used it as cover to slip her a handful of roasted chestnuts from underneath. “You haven’t eaten since returning, have you? Make do with these to fill your stomach.”
These were roasted alongside sweet potatoes earlier; he had just taken them out and shelled a handful.
The Wu’an Marquisate had few masters. Neither the Old Marquis nor the new Marquis mistreated their servants. Zhao Fu rarely saw such absurdities as making a maid sweep snow in a blizzard. He wasn’t one to meddle, but today, he felt a pang of compassion. A handful of roasted chestnuts could hardly be considered a favor.
Yet Wan Tang’s eyes reddened, and she choked up. “Thank you, brother.”
Back at the Jingyang Marquisate, she had had acquaintances to look out for each other. But after coming to the Wu’an Marquisate, everything depended on Song Zhiyun and her husband. Though she was a first-class maid, whenever Song Zhiyun was displeased, she would be ordered to clean chamber pots, so most maids in Jinxiu Garden didn’t take her seriously. If she hadn’t stood firm when necessary, she might not even be able to order around a lowly maid.
Someone like Zhao Fu, offering help in a time of need, was the first she had encountered.
Sweeping the snow had made her sweat, but as soon as she stopped, the wind chilled her, causing her to shiver uncontrollably.
Zhao Fu couldn’t bear to watch any longer. Holding the cloak, he returned to Meiyuan.
Xiao Zhi looked at the cloak and said displeased, “Why is it dirty? I kindly lent it to her, and she didn’t even tidy it up?”
Zhao Fu’s eyes twitched wildly, but he chuckled. “Didn’t you say the cloak was old and you planned to discard it anyway, Marquis?”
Xiao Zhi shot him a glance and snorted. “I’ve changed my mind.”
Zhao Fu swallowed the request he was about to make and awkwardly said, “Miss Wan Tang was sweeping snow. Perhaps she didn’t have time to tidy it. I’ll clean it up properly later.”
Xiao Zhi glanced out the window. “The snow hasn’t stopped yet. What’s the point of sweeping it?”
Zhao Fu sheepishly patted his own mouth, inwardly scolding himself for not keeping his tongue in check—it almost sounded like he was tattling to the Marquis.
“Hmm?” Hearing no response, Xiao Zhi raised an eyebrow impatiently.
Zhao Fu’s legs went weak with fear. “Please calm your anger, Marquis. This servant wasn’t trying to complain. When I went to Jinxiu Garden earlier to fetch the cloak, I saw Miss Wan Tang sweeping snow. It looked like she’d been at it for quite a while, so I thought she probably didn’t have time to clean the cloak—it wasn’t intentional neglect.”
Xiao Zhi stood up. “With the snow falling continuously, when will it ever be finished?”
“Exactly! With Miss Wan Tang sweeping alone, she probably couldn’t finish even if she worked all night.”
Xiao Zhi’s fingers trembled slightly, then slowly curled into fists.
He turned to look at the snow outside the window. Everything was blanketed in silver, the snowscape breathtakingly beautiful, but he had no mind to appreciate it. “Summon everyone from Jinxiu Garden to the main hall. I have words to say.”
Zhao Fu cautiously lifted his head for a quick glance, thinking to himself, This is bad.
Xiao Zhi stared expressionlessly out the window, his eyes dark and gloomy, colder than the wind and snow outside.
Not daring to ask more, Zhao Fu bowed and retreated.
Less than half an hour later, everyone from Jinxiu Garden had gathered in the main hall, including the couple Xiao Yujue and Song Zhiyun.
As soon as Song Zhiyun saw Xiao Yujue, she asked if he was cold, if his knees hurt, if he was hungry, crying pitifully with tears streaming down her face like pear blossoms in the rain. Xiao Yujue, already simmering with suppressed anger, felt his heart soften at his delicate wife’s concern and gently wiped her tears away.
Wan Tang hadn’t had time to change her clothes and stood among the crowd in half-damp garments, feeling a bit lightheaded and unsteady.
Xiao Zhi strode into the main hall with his hands clasped behind his back, wearing a dark cyan cloak with a few splashes of mud at the hem. He walked briskly toward the main seat, his imperious gaze silencing any area it swept over.
Xiao Yujue felt a pang of unease and glanced curiously at the people behind him. Upon closer inspection, he realized they were all from Jinxiu Garden.
He squeezed Song Zhiyun’s hand and whispered, “Why has Father summoned everyone from Jinxiu Garden? Has something happened?”
Song Zhiyun shook her head blankly. “I don’t know either.”
The moment she saw Xiao Yujue, she had forgotten everything else, only now beginning to wonder along with him.
Xiao Zhi walked up to the crowd, scanning them from left to right. When his gaze fell on Wan Tang, it paused briefly.
The main hall was crowded, and a stove burned inside, so it wasn’t cold. Yet she shivered from time to time, her small face flushed unnaturally red, her eyes listless and devoid of energy.
An inexplicable pang tugged at his heart, and Xiao Zhi’s sharp gaze immediately shifted to Song Zhiyun and her husband.
Song Zhiyun sensed it and shrank back like a quail, only then timidly lifting her eyes to look at him.
Xiao Zhi got straight to the point. “You are dissatisfied with my punishment of Zizhuo?”
The main hall fell silent. The servants lowered their heads, not daring to breathe loudly, while the bolder ones stole glances at Song Zhiyun from the corners of their eyes. Hearing this, Xiao Yujue also frowned and looked at Song Zhiyun.
Song Zhiyun was terrified by Xiao Zhi’s bloodthirsty glare. Her legs weakened, and she clung to Xiao Yujue’s arm, trembling.
She shook her head in confusion, her voice quivering. “Father, I am not dissatisfied at all. Has Father misunderstood something?”
The image of asking Wan Tang to plead on her behalf flashed through her mind. She seethed inwardly—it must have been Wan Tang who failed to handle the matter properly and ended up implicating her instead.
Xiao Zhi curled his lips, yet the smile did not reach his eyes. “This marquis had just stood up for these maids, and you immediately slap this marquis in the face. What, are you trying to anger this marquis to death so that Zizhuo becomes an orphan?”