Chapter 15

After sunset, Ying Ye came to Bai Shu’s chamber. Sang Ye was not there, and Bai Shu was tidying up some remaining small items—needles and threads, the usual sweat towels and pillows.

The pillows in the maid’s quarters were just simple cloth pillows stuffed with millet, but among Bai Shu’s dowry was a pair of white glazed porcelain pillows with carved patterns, a fine product from Ding kiln, gifted by the matriarch.

If it were Sang Ye, she would have said to leave those old things behind.

“Once you get used to something, you can’t just replace it,” Bai Shu smiled, welcoming Ying Ye in. “You sit for a while; I’ll come to you once I’m done.”

There was no formality between them, unlike the maids from the matriarch’s household who would bring her makeup, serve tea, and present freshly bought snacks to entertain her.

Bai Shu simply said with a smile, “We’re not outsiders.”

Though there was no need for elaborate hospitality, her room always had good tea and fresh fruit. Ying Ye bit into a juicy, large peach from the table—sweet and crisp. She ate two in quick succession, her fingers fragrant with the peach’s aroma.

Seeing her enjoy it, Bai Shu told her to take the whole plate back later.

Though Ying Ye was usually simple-minded, she understood this was a thoughtful gift from Brother Ling Xiao, who had come all the way from Qingzhou to bring something for his soon-to-be wife, and she politely declined.

Bai Shu had been waiting for her; there were many people around in the afternoon, so some things were better said in private.

Ying Ye had little money and couldn’t offer jewelry as lavish as Sang Ye’s to adorn her, but she truly liked this elder sister. After much thought, she embroidered a round fan with a lotus and carp design, symbolizing “lotus and carp,” and attached a silver lock pendant with red and green glass beads matching the fan’s colors.

“Look, look!” Bai Shu was delighted. “Forget it, this will be the fan I use on my wedding day.”

She had bought a new one herself but found Ying Ye’s handiwork far more beautiful and exquisite.

She held Ying Ye’s hand, marveling, “How is it possible? How can your hands be so skillful? So unbelievably skillful?”

It was one thing to cook delicious food, but Bai Shu was impressed that Ying Ye’s needlework was so fine. She never put the fan down, playing with it repeatedly. Though not the best embroiderer among the maids, Bai Shu had seen many fine works and couldn’t help but admire the lifelike carp on the fan.

Ying Ye smiled softly. “Sister, you’ve seen so many fine things; I’m glad you don’t dislike mine. This is Su embroidery technique, but I’m only an amateur. A truly skilled embroiderer doesn’t work with her hands, keeps them soft and well cared for. When I have money, I’ll send you a good piece.”

Bai Shu pretended to put it away. “No, I like this one best.”

They drank tea, ate fruit, and chatted casually. After the makeup was added and the fan gifted, Ying Ye thanked Bai Shu for her earlier care.

“When I first arrived, it was thanks to you, Sister. I don’t know how to thank you enough,” Ying Ye said.

Bai Shu smiled. “If you think of me, you’ll embroider some small clothes and tiger head hats for me. When the child grows up, he can call you Auntie.”

Ying Ye laughed in agreement.

“I’ve recommended you to the Master. Tomorrow, you’ll start serving in the study.”

“Follow Sang Ye and work well.”

“The future of a study maid is quite different from those in the kitchen or courtyard. Serving the Master, you learn much more. When you leave, saying you served the ranked scholar will make your in-laws think highly of you.”

The laughter faded, and Bai Shu spoke sincerely.

It was true; most maids had some education, and their demeanor and etiquette set them apart from common folk. Like the personal maids in Dream of the Red Chamber, they resembled young ladies themselves. Especially those serving nobles like Cui Yuan — once out of service, they would not worry about matchmaking.

Ying Ye understood this, but upon hearing she’d serve in the study, her first thought was of her poor handwriting.

In her previous life, born during a time when parents pushed their children hard, classmates spent weekends rushing from interest class to interest class—piano, dance, painting, calligraphy… Her parents initially enrolled her in a calligraphy class for half a year, but she couldn’t endure the wrist strain and often hid downstairs in the community library reading Grimm’s Fairy Tales and Huahuo Zhiyin, until caught.

With no foundation from before, her current efforts were mere copies, and the ranked scholar had judged her handwriting as “well-formed but soulless,” utterly lacking character.

“But there’s hope. I can still practice.”

In recent days, Cui Yuan occasionally circled a few decent characters in red ink. Judged from the start, by his standards, her work was utterly worthless.

Less than a month in, her progress was incredible, practically miraculous for an ordinary person.

But under the guidance of the ranked scholar, it was expected. In fact, he held even higher hopes for her.

He believed she could do even better.

So after a brief compliment—“Not bad”—he assigned her five large characters to practice daily.

“No, she’s not going to be a Hanlin Academy official…” Ying Ye wanted to protest but, encouraged by the ranked scholar’s supportive look, she gave in.

“...Yes,” she sighed.

As a maid, her aptitude was already sufficient; many couldn’t even read. But Cui Yuan expected more from her as a talented girl.

Ying Ye both respected and feared him.

She respected the noble son of a wealthy family who humbled himself to patiently instruct a lowly maid; she feared the daily grind of fifteen characters plus copying practice books, shattering her previously carefree days.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon,” Bai Shu comforted her.

Bai Shu disliked the kind of life where a married woman devoted herself solely to her in-laws and husband, raising children and revolving around the kitchen.

Ying Ye reluctantly said, “Then Sister Bai Shu must come back early.”

Before leaving, Bai Shu carefully advised her on Cui Yuan’s daily habits, what to do, and small details to avoid awkwardness like last time’s flower-shaped rice cake incident.

“If unsure, ask Sang Ye,” she said. “Also, keep an eye on Honeysuckle. I feel something’s off about her lately. Don’t trust others in the Bamboo Garden either.”

She didn’t mention this was the Master’s instruction.

It turned out she was right. Though surprised, Ying Ye didn’t pry, only nodded seriously.

Bai Shu wouldn’t let her leave empty-handed and gave her a box of powdered jewelry.

“I won’t need these anymore; wear them yourself,” Bai Shu smiled. “Make the most of your youth by dressing up.”

Once a woman, one must be composed; these pink and green flowers could only fade with her girlhood.

Bai Shu felt a touch of melancholy—why couldn’t she remain a girl forever?

Ying Ye tried to comfort her differently: “But you can still wear jade, gold, and silver. Just tell Brother Ling Xiao what you want, and he’ll buy it for you.”

Bai Shu smiled wryly.

Before dawn the next day, Bai Shu’s family came to fetch her. Before leaving, she bowed farewell at the study door. Ying Ye woke especially early and handed her a basket of beautiful pastries.

Bai Shu said, “I won’t have these to eat anymore. If I really crave them…”

Ying Ye laughed, “Then send word inside. I’ll make you special treats.”

Bai Shu was about to leave.

“Oh, your letter,” she paused. “It’s been sent already. You should hear news soon.”

From Chenliu to the capital by horse would normally take around ten days; by water, a bit faster.

Ying Ye said, “No rush. You’re newlyweds; enjoy yourselves.”

Bai Shu blushed.

Her relatives were urging her; she had to go.

Ying Ye watched her walk away until her figure disappeared, witnessing the last glimpse of a girl’s youth.

At the first quarter of the Mao hour, Cui Yuan woke, gazing at the canopy for a while before sitting up.

The maid was already waiting. Hearing the movement, she entered with washing supplies and drew back the curtains.

Ying Ye’s first day on duty had her trailing behind Sang Ye, picking up small tasks—handing towels when Cui Yuan washed his face, opening windows for ventilation.

Cui Yuan glanced at her somewhat flustered back and asked, “Has Bai Shu left?”

Sang Ye nodded.

He gave a slight nod. “Go check on her the day after tomorrow.”

Given a day off and a chance to visit her good friend, Sang Ye happily agreed.

But she still worried about Cui Yuan: “What about the house… can Ying’er handle everything alone?”

“Just one day,” Cui Yuan said indifferently. “It’s no problem.”

“Alright!”

It had been ages since she left the mansion. Sang Ye no longer managed many things but planned to remind Ying’er a few more times and maybe bring her some small gifts upon return.

Because Bai Shu was leaving, Ying Ye woke early, porridge already simmering on the stove, now just waiting inside.

After Cui Yuan washed, he closed his eyes and meditated on the couch in silence.

Ying Ye was a bit confused and quietly asked Sang Ye, “What is he doing now?”

Sang Ye pointed to the study. “Wiping the zither.”

These were tasks Bai Shu usually did.

Ying Ye squatted, carefully wiping the dust away inch by inch. When reaching the strings, she was even more careful to avoid making a sound, doing her best to minimize her presence.

After cleaning, she applied a layer of special oil to maintain the strings. Since Cui Yuan played often, the silk strings were naturally lubricated by his fingertips, needing only a small, even coating wiped clean afterward.

It was Ying Ye’s first time doing such work, and she was not very skilled. Even after Cui Yuan’s quarter-hour meditation, she was still squatting and wiping strings.

“I’ll do it,” Cui Yuan said from behind after watching for a while.

Ying Ye hesitated. “No! Master, please sit for a bit. I’ll be done soon.”

Cui Yuan was silent.

Ying Ye sped up her work and soon stepped aside.

He tested the sound; it was a bit slippery, likely from her hurried wiping at the end.

He reached out; Ying Ye didn’t react immediately.

“Handkerchief.”

Embarrassed, Ying Ye handed it over.

Cui Yuan paid no mind and tested the sound again, finally satisfied.

“What will you play today, Master?”

It was Ying Ye’s first time so close to hear the ranked scholar play the zither. Before, she only heard it from the kitchen, where the clatter of spatulas and chopping knives inevitably tainted even the most elegant music with the smell of cooking.

Cui Yuan said, “Yi Lan.”

Bright sunlight flooded the room. He sat by the window, his features clear and gentle.

Ying Ye closed her mouth, listening quietly.

The orchid blooms fragrantly, spreading its scent.

Bamboo forest, flowing water, zither music.

It seemed to flow with a lingering, refined charm of the Wei and Jin eras.

Her heart completely calmed.

Ying Ye quietly tugged Sang Ye’s sleeve, marveling, “Master plays so beautifully! I can almost smell the orchid fragrance.”

Sang Ye laughed, “That’s the orchid incense I lit today!”