Another day or two passed.
Mohai curled his lips, leaned back against the wall, and closed his eyes to rest his mind once more.
He wasn’t particularly worried.
As harsh as that old matron was, she wouldn’t actually starve a seven- or eight-year-old child to death.
At most, this was just her giving him a show of authority to put him in his place.
Even though, in the eyes of outsiders, Mohai was a total menace, a brat, and a little troublemaker, he couldn’t explain his side of it—he really had good intentions in the first place.
Right now, though, Mohai was more concerned about how things were going on Jinhsi’s end.
Mostly, he worried she might be left with some kind of psychological trauma.
Thinking of her eyes losing their luster in an instant, and the candied hawthorn that had dropped to the ground, Mohai felt a bitter tang in his heart.
Meanwhile, inside the Magistrate’s estate, the situation was much as he had anticipated.
Jinhsi, who was preparing to request Mohai’s release once more, was rejected again and taken back to her grand yet cold room.
Delicate dishes were laid out on the table, but she hadn’t touched a single bite.
She simply sat there in silence by the window, gazing outside, her tiny figure looking exceptionally lonely.
This was her very first time rebelling—using silence as her weapon.
The Chief Attendant stood outside the door, watching through the crack.
Her withered face bore no expression whatsoever.
She felt a bit sick at heart.
After looking after Jinhsi for so long, a momentary lapse of oversight had allowed some random brat from outside to steal her away.
A servant beside her reported in a low voice, “Lady Chief Attendant, the Young Mistress hasn’t eaten anything for six hours, nor has she said a word.” “Mm.” The Chief Attendant merely offered a flat response.
“What about that boy?” “Still in the Reflection Chamber.
He’s behaving himself—no crying or throwing tantrums.” “Understood.
Everyone, step down.” The Chief Attendant waved her hand.
Only when everyone had left did she push the door open and walk inside.
“Young Mistress.” She walked up behind Jinhsi, her voice as calm as ever.
“Are you still throwing a fit over that wild boy?” Jinhsi’s shoulders trembled slightly, but she did not turn around.
“Do you know?” The Chief Attendant began speaking, a tinge of reminiscence in her tone.
“Before you, many ‘friends’ were sent to your side.” Back then, Jué had realized this situation as well, coming up with this plan to ensure Jinhsi would have a complete childhood.
“Some were cultured and refined, others possessed remarkable martial prowess—every single one was far superior to that wild boy who talks big and runs his mouth.
Yet the way they looked at you was no different from the servants in this estate—full of awe, full of distance.
Before them, you were still that perfect, high and mighty Young Mistress, not a child in need of a friend.” Jinhsi’s body relaxed slightly; she seemed to be absorbing the words.
“That boy is different.” For the first time, a subtle, almost imperceptible tremor flickered through the Chief Attendant’s voice.
“He dares to poke your cheeks, mess up your hair, and drag you through a crawlhole.
He treats you as an equal friend to goof around with, not a ‘master’ to be served.” “And that is why he was locked up.” Jinhsi finally spoke, her voice laced with a faint choke of tears.
“It was me who brought this on him.” “No.” The Chief Attendant shook her head.
“That was his own choice, and a price he had to pay.
To gain something, one must endure something else in return.
Young Mistress, you are the future Magistrate.
In the days ahead, you will encounter even more matters like this, even more choices where you have no say.” The Chief Attendant walked over to stand before her, crouched down, and looked at her at eye level for the very first time.
“Tell your teacher…
what did you learn from this?” Jinhsi looked into those sharp eyes, and this time, she did not shrink away.
She fell silent for a long time.
Then, in an unprecedentedly firm voice, she spoke word by word, “I learned that there are things worth protecting…
even if there is a price to pay.” The Chief Attendant froze.
She gazed into Jinhsi’s clear eyes, which reflected her own image.
Deep within those eyes, she saw a seed breaking through the soil, burgeoning with a tenacity that could not be ignored.
After a long while, she slowly stood up.
“I understand.” She turned and walked toward the exit.
“Eat your meal.
Cold food is bad for your health.” …
The door to the Reflection Chamber opened with a soft creak.
Mohai blinked his eyes open groggily, seeing the Chief Attendant walk in holding a food box.
She placed the box on the ground; inside was a bowl of hot porridge and two white mantou buns.
“Eat.” Her tone was as cold as ever.
Mohai didn’t stand on ceremony; his stomach was already practically stuck to his spine with hunger.
He picked up the bowl and gulped down the porridge like a starving ghost reborn, causing the corner of the Chief Attendant’s mouth to twitch slightly.
“Boy.” Only after he finished did she speak again.
“What is your name?” “Mohai,” he answered honestly, letting out a belch.
“Mohai…” She repeated the name.
“Do you know what you did wrong?” “I was wrong, but not entirely wrong,” Mohai answered promptly and crisply.
“Oh?” “I only brought my friend out to eat what she wanted to eat and do what she wanted to do.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.
My mistake was sneaking Jinhsi out without giving anyone in the estate a heads-up.” Mohai raised his head and looked her straight in the eye.
“If doing that let her laugh genuinely for once, then even if I get locked up again, I’d take it.” The Chief Attendant narrowed her eyes.
She stared at Mohai for a long moment.
This boy’s eyes were clear and firm, lacking any of the timidity common to children his age.
“Sharp-tongued little devil.” Leaving behind those few words of evaluation, she turned and left.
“You may go.
Don’t let there be a next time.” The door swung open, and warm sunlight streamed in, making Mohai squint comfortably.
He knew he had won his gamble.
That night, lying on his bed in his simple little room, Mohai pondered the day’s events.
Though he had suffered a bit, the payoff was huge.
Just as he was getting ready to enjoy a good night’s sleep…
*Tap, tap-tap.* Someone knocked softly on the window.
Mohai sat up with a start.
Who could it be in the middle of the night?
He tiptoed to the window and quietly parted it just a crack.
Under the moonlight, a familiar, adorable little face appeared outside.
It was Jinhsi.
She wore light clothing, her hair bun slightly disheveled, and a speck of dust smudged her cute face, making her look a little disheveled.
Mohai quickly pushed open the window.
“What are you doing here?” he asked in a hushed, surprised tone.
Seeing him, Jinhsi’s eyes lit up as if she had found her sanctuary.
Bringing her small hands out from behind her back, she offered him an item wrapped carefully in a handkerchief like a prized treasure.
“For you.” Her voice was tiny, laced with a barely perceptible mix of nervousness and anticipation.
Mohai took it and opened it up.
Inside were two…
well, hard-to-describe, slightly scorched…
steamed buns?
“What are these?” “Little dragon buns.” Taking a closer look under the moonlight, Mohai could indeed see two small protrusions shaped like dragon horns stuck on top of the buns.
Jinhsi’s cheeks flushed slightly under the moonlight.
“I…
I learned from the granny in the kitchen.
It’s my first time making them, so they might…
not look very good.” As she spoke, she nervously tugged at the corner of her shirt.
Mohai’s heart felt as though it had been gently nudged by something warm.
He picked up one of the still-warm “little dragon buns” and took a big bite without hesitation.
The outer skin was a bit tough, and the filling tasted somewhat peculiar, yet Mohai chewed with relish.
“Delicious,” he mumbled through a mouthful.
“Really?” Light sparkled in Jinhsi’s eyes.
“Really.
Better than anything the cooks in the estate make.” Mohai finished one in a couple of bites and grabbed the second.
Though Mohai had never eaten food prepared by the Magistrate’s estate chefs, that didn’t stop him from encouraging a sweet child.
Watching him devour them, Jinhsi finally let out a relieved, sweet smile.
“Eat slower, don’t choke.” She cautioned softly, then agilely hoisted herself over the windowsill and climbed inside.
“How…
how did you learn to climb through windows?” Mohai was stunned.
“I learned from you,” Jinhsi answered righteously, dusting off her hands.
“Teacher says we must put what we learn into practice.”