Chapter 16

Now that it was July, the nights had grown cool, unlike the sultry days of June. Sleeping would leave a human-shaped imprint, and upon waking early, one still had to wipe away the chill. Yet the daytime heat of late summer still lingered; indoors, the incense favored was a cool, soothing scent like orchid grass and pine needles, which cleared the mind and eased tension.

After Sangye finished speaking, Yeying took a deep breath, savoring the fragrance carefully.

It felt as if she were standing in a secluded mountain valley at dawn, with a clear spring bubbling nearby, and dewdrops clinging to the tips of orchid grass leaves. It was as refreshing as drinking tea brewed with dew.

Her entire being felt clear and invigorated.

“How lovely the scent is!” Yeying hooked her arm through Sangye’s and clung to her, refusing to let go. “How do you make it? Sister, teach me!”

Whether it was blending incense, cooking, embroidery, or anything else except studying, her interest was always keen.

Sangye laughed. “I’m not talented enough for that. This was made by Master in his leisure time. You should ask him.”

Before Yeying could finish a shy “I wouldn’t dare,” Cui Yuan’s voice sounded nearby. “What is it you want to ask me?”

Sangye answered honestly, “It’s the orchid incense that Master made before. Yeying wants the recipe.”

Strange—usually Sangye was the sharp one, yet today she had carelessly blurted out their casual chatter. Yeying suddenly tensed all over.

Cui Yuan’s deep, serene eyes shifted to Yeying.

At this point, Yeying thickened her skin and asked him directly. Her face flushed as soon as the words escaped her lips.

Cui Yuan felt no embarrassment. It was just a recipe for incense; after death, he wouldn’t be taking it to the afterlife, would he?

Even if he never shared it with her, he was already preparing to organize his past writings, compiling his calligraphy, paintings, poems, and essays into volumes—leaving behind something tangible.

He had originally intended to have Sangye open the storeroom and fetch some finished incense for her, but then hesitated. “What about breakfast?”

Yeying’s face burned bright red, from her ears to her neck, a flush spreading like a pink bloom.

“Oh, I—I’ll go get it right away.”

In her mind, not receiving a straightforward yes from an adult was tantamount to a polite refusal.

Still, she didn’t blame him for being “stingy.”

The art of incense was a pastime for scholarly families with wealth, leisure, and refinement—it had nothing to do with her.

Perhaps he simply thought it unnecessary.

As the saying goes, “High mountains and flowing water seek a soulmate.” She was no kindred spirit; to present her with carefully crafted incense would be like playing music to an ox.

Thinking this, Yeying’s flush faded considerably. She exhaled and pushed open the door to return.

She brought the breakfast back and laid it out neatly on the table, filling the spring platform.

There were sesame rolls, barley porridge, shredded silver noodles, plum ginger... wild vegetables mixed with ham, drizzled with sesame oil, and a plate of yellow millet date cakes studded with seedless golden honey dates from the south—today’s dessert.

Cui Yuan ate a whole bowl of porridge, two sesame rolls, and nearly finished the noodles and ham mixture.

Suhe came in to clear the dishes.

Cui Yuan went to the west side room—the study.

“Come here,” he said.

Practicing calligraphy at this hour was rather early, wasn’t it? Yeying exchanged a glance with Sangye. Sangye winked and nudged her, “Go on!”

She already knew what Master intended.

Yeying approached, still somewhat bewildered.

On the low table sat an incense burner, incense tongs, a ash press, an ash sweeper, and seal molds. She had learned a bit before and recognized these as basic incense tools.

Cui Yuan smoothed his sleeves and sat down. “Before learning to make incense, you must first learn how to imprint seals and burn incense.”

“Ah?” Yeying was confused.

Cui Yuan nodded gently. “Sit.”

He took the seat by the northern window, and opposite him was a cushion. Yeying knelt opposite him.

Her mind raced: Was this to teach her how to appreciate incense?

But... why?

This was the genuine scholar ranked third in the imperial examinations, not some white-bearded scholar at the village entrance who accepted only two strips of cured meat and a cup of cheap wine as tribute.

Though Yeying thought Master Xu was impressive—always able to answer any question she posed, with the aura of a recluse—this was the third-ranking scholar.

Appointed by the emperor’s red pen as a Hanlin academician, later serving in the Censorate as the Vice Chief Censor in charge of law and discipline, a truly high-ranking official. And yet, he taught her calligraphy and now incense appreciation.

Truly unbelievable.

Cui Yuan himself did not know why he wanted to teach a maid this art. He was once too lazy to instruct others, partly because few had the insight to benefit, and partly because of the pressing demands of official duties. Simply put, he had no time.

Now, perhaps, he was too idle.

Without wasting words, he picked up the incense tongs and loosened the pine resin ash. A gentle breeze ruffled his clothing, and the room was bright and tidy.

“Pay attention to the strength; the ash must be fluffy, then smoothed flat,” he changed tools and explained slowly, “The surface should be smooth and unmarked; keep the edges of the burner clean...”

No wonder tea tasting and incense burning were considered refined arts. Cui Yuan’s movements were leisurely, his manner composed, graceful enough to be painted.

Yeying fixed her gaze on his hands, watching the filling of the incense. At last, she could see clearly.

A faint mole marked the second knuckle of his left index finger; his right hand bore calluses on the side from years of holding a brush.

Overall, they were very handsome hands—not perfect, but the small imperfections added a certain tension.

Unaccountably, she felt embarrassed and quickly pulled her thoughts back to the lesson.

When it came to imprinting the seal, he gently placed the seal mold in the center of the pressed ash and sprinkled incense powder atop it. His voice was steady and measured. “When lifting the seal, keep your hand vertical and steady; do not rush.”

He lit one end of the incense stick and touched it to the seal, then covered it with the burner lid.

Blue smoke curled up, and fragrance wafted out.

Sitting opposite each other, the low table brought them close. Yeying lowered her eyes, watching intently. Cui Yuan could see only the fluttering of her thick black eyelashes, imagining perfectly the look of concentration on her face.

He felt content.

Teaching others to fish naturally brought a sense of accomplishment.

“How is it?”

Yeying closed her eyes and inhaled. “There’s a woody scent, but it also tastes a bit bitter.”

“This incense is called ‘Clear Bamboo.’ It contains three qian of mugwort and cliff cypress, two qian of mint and citronella, and one qian of atractylodes,” Cui Yuan explained gently.

“The wood scent you smell comes from the cliff cypress. As for the bitterness, atractylodes and mugwort are medicinal herbs, so bitterness is natural.”

He paused, seeming to understand the question in Yeying’s eyes. “The scent of incense is greatly influenced by the mood of the maker. Incense can convey emotions—joy, anger, sorrow, resentment... It is not judged solely by ‘pleasant smell.’”

“Moreover, ‘Clear Bamboo’ is not for everyday use,” he added. “Summer nights are full of mosquitoes and ants, and the bamboo grove is dense and lush. This incense repels insects.”

Only now did Yeying realize that “Clear Bamboo,” so different in style from “Orchid,” was also crafted by this very person.

Upon closer smelling, perhaps a trick of the mind, there was indeed a calm and cool sensation. Yeying wanted to applaud him.

Cui Yuan glanced at her. When the incense stick burned out and the ashes were cleaned, he pushed the incense burner toward her.

“Your turn.”

After the demonstration, she was to take a practical test.

Yeying opened her mouth to decline, but Cui Yuan would not hear of it and even tempted her: “If you learn it well, I will teach you how to make incense.”

After all, mastering incense-making could be a skill to support herself in the future.

Gathering her courage, Yeying tried to recall Cui Yuan’s earlier movements: first... pounding the ash? The tools needed were...

Luckily, she was not distracted much. Though her motions were clumsy and slow, she made no mistakes. Her technique was gentle and, on the whole, pleasing to watch.

Some people were simply born suited for such arts.

This was what one would call a promising student. If she could not imitate him at least seventy or eighty percent accurately, then Cui Yuan would not be inclined to instruct her further.

Indeed, it was likely because her recent calligraphy had improved that teaching her gave him a sense of fulfillment, prompting him to meddle more.

Cui Yuan opened a small, unassuming box in the corner, revealing the orchid incense Yeying had asked about. Even unlit, its rich and distant fragrance spread through the air.

This was made by him in his youth; its scent was elegant and rare—worth a hundred gold pieces on the market. A minor official once boasted after receiving some incense powder as a gift, claiming to have been presented incense by the third-ranking scholar of the Cui family of Boling. This opened doors to high society, and now he was among the refined literati.

But these were all superficial honors.

In the world, he needed such empty titles to decorate himself. With these, he need not strive like others but had people seeking his friendship.

Therefore, the incense he had gifted before had to be given to those with outstanding reputation and talent, reflecting the prestige of the “Cui family of Boling” and the “third-ranking scholar.”

Yet perhaps he grew tired of such scheming, which was why today he gave it all to her.

“Practice diligently each day. When you are familiar, I have other incense recipes. Now that Atractylodes is absent, I will need your help to organize them.”

Yeying finally found a reason to explain.

Indeed, because there was work to do beyond her current ability, the third-ranking scholar lowered himself to instruct her.

When Sangye heard Master order the orchid incense to be brought out for Yeying to practice seal imprinting, she was no longer surprised.

The difference between her and Atractylodes was that Atractylodes obeyed the Master’s orders without question, never showing her own thoughts or acting on her own initiative.

To be honest, when the Lady first hinted at succession, she first sought out Sangye and Atractylodes. Atractylodes refused outright, and Sangye pondered all night—not for Master’s sake, but for her own future.

Sangye was content with her comfortable, affluent life and naturally worried about Master’s affairs after his passing. As a family-born child, she would remain at the Cui mansion, but if sent back to some village, would she still enjoy this ease?

She needed to plan ahead for herself.

But she knew well the vast generational gap between her and Master. He had no interest in local affairs, and Sangye dared not cross him.

So when Master showed some favor to Yeying, Sangye was moved!

She befriended Yeying early, hoping to bring her closer to Master, ensuring her own future security.

If it failed, she lost nothing; after all, she was just following Master’s orders.

Master told her to prepare incense tools, and she did so quickly; when Master opened the storeroom for orchid incense, she opened it without hesitation.

Suhe dawdled while clearing the table, so Sangye efficiently packed the dishes for her and escorted her to the inner courtyard’s gate. Though appearing friendly, it was to prevent interruptions.

When they taught in the study, Sangye thoughtfully stood guard at the door.

Holding her face, Sangye thought to herself, she was truly too thorough, too thorough indeed!