Chapter 17

A gentle breeze, a bright moon, the night.

The creek flowed slowly, a few bamboo leaves drifting lightly onto the water’s surface, transforming into tiny boats carrying moonlight onward.

Bamboo remains evergreen through the seasons. Once the first spring shoot breaks through the earth, countless bamboo stalks soon flourish across the land.

The deeper the bamboo grove, the more it seems the abode of a sage—seated alone amidst the quiet bamboo, playing the zither and singing long into the night.

A leaf warbler passed by the window, curiously glancing outside.

If she remembered correctly, she once stood at the inner courtyard gate looking in; at that time, the window was tightly shut, and the bamboo thicket obscured most of the view.

So this was the full expanse of the bamboo grove.

It was indeed beautiful, yet the leaf warbler’s thoughts untimely turned to a story: a man once found unconscious in a bamboo forest; after a spring rain at night, he was dead by morning.

When asked why, the answer was: the bamboo shoots had grown.

The chill of that tale made her hastily light a few more lamps.

The sound of water in the purification chamber ceased.

After his bath, Cui Yuan wore only a simple white sleeping robe, draped with a wide-sleeved Taoist gown. Damp strands clung to his shoulders, still carrying the mist of water.

His long robe flowed gracefully, his dark hair cascading like a waterfall.

Equally striking, leaf warbler recalled Bai Shu’s admonition.

In the fiery heat of July, if not dried promptly, one would surely catch a chill.

Eager to help, she offered, “Shall I twist your hair, Young Master?”

Cui Yuan nodded, eyes fixed on his book.

The moment her handkerchief brushed his hair, she couldn’t tell which felt more like silk—it was impossibly smooth.

The touch was exquisite.

She exhaled deeply. There was no other man like the eldest young master, whose every strand of hair to the heel of his foot exuded an ethereal, otherworldly refinement.

Truly heaven-sent; even when ill, he did not lose a hair... Wait, that didn’t quite add up. If he were truly blessed, how would he fall ill?

A cool breath brushed the nape of his neck. Cui Yuan’s hand paused briefly turning the page before resuming as before.

Even that slight stiffness was noticed.

Leaf warbler silently curved her eyes, as if she had uncovered a little secret: the eldest young master was ticklish.

Suddenly he asked, “What are you laughing at?”

Feigning ignorance, she replied, “Nothing!”

Cui Yuan coldly exposed her, “Your hands are trembling.”

Not to mention the windowpane embedded with clear tiles that reflected a round head bobbing up and down like a chick pecking at rice.

Of course, leaf warbler couldn’t admit she was secretly mocking him. “I was just thinking about Sister Bai Shu getting married soon, and felt happy for her.”

Listening to her nonsense, Cui Yuan rested his forehead on his hand, eyes falling on the “Collected Works of Li Yishan,” unimpressed.

A man grown should marry, a woman grown should wed—such trivial matters hardly warrant joy.

He shook his head, turning the page, but a thought quietly entered his mind.

Actually, the maids in the bamboo garden were all about the same age. Yet because she was simple-minded and often stayed with the more mature Bai Shu and Sang Ye, people thought she was still a girl.

But wasn’t she originally...

Not much younger than Bai Shu, and already of marriageable age.

Cui Yuan paused his breath, slowly raising his eyes, his gaze flickering in the void.

He suddenly realized that behind her happiness might lie another meaning—one by extension.

In her hometown, there might well be a boy like Ling Xiao was to Bai Shu, riding a bamboo horse in youth, playing beside the bed with green plums.

Hence, faced with riches others could not obtain, she might have answered with such clear understanding that she “would not become a concubine.”

Turning the page again, Cui Yuan asked, “Besides you, who else usually attends the village school?”

“Ah?” The topic shifted abruptly, and leaf warbler blinked, answering, “Not many—the village is mostly elderly and weak, with few children. Besides me, there’s only the scholar’s own grandson and a few others from neighboring villages who came to study. They all live at the school, only returning home during busy farming seasons.”

Families of farming scholars, descendants of learned men... disciples of the same master.

Senior and junior students—indeed, well suited to develop into marriage prospects.

Cui Yuan nodded. “And are there any suitable matches?”

Weariness crept in, and she felt somewhat sleepy.

Testing, leaf warbler brushed his hair dry. Satisfied, she released it and combed through from root to tip.

After a moment, Cui Yuan tidied the desk and blew out the study’s lamps.

She was on night watch for the first half of the night, so leaf warbler would sleep on the outer couch. Though she couldn’t sleep deeply, at least she had somewhere to lie down and rest.

Fortunately, the eldest young master was not like some spoiled sons of noble families, who forced their night-watch maids to sleep on the stool at the bed’s foot, calling on them at night for water or other needs, or worse, asking them to observe his exercises. Tsk tsk.

Leaf warbler wrapped herself in a thin, soft blanket of her own and settled on the low couch, head facing outward so she could glance at the interior room.

The distance was comfortable, with folding screens and partitions to prevent awkwardness... Suddenly, she wondered, would the eldest young master snore?

She simply could not imagine it!

Soon the candles were extinguished, leaving only a faint glow from a small lamb-horn lamp hanging outside the canopy.

She wasn’t sleepy but remembered how earnestly Bai Shu had begged her for baby items before leaving. With nothing else to do, she took up her needlework.

The candle flickered softly, casting gentle shadows.

The tiger-head hat was not difficult; in little time, its rough shape emerged. However, the low height of the couch strained her neck. She leaned back, massaging the nape of her neck and adjusting her posture from cross-legged to reclining sideways.

Her elbow rested on the table, her waist leaned against two stacked concealed pouches filled with cotton—comforting indeed.

Her legs stretched out.

The only sound was the faint crackle of the candle wick.

“Sitting like that for so long, you’ll end up with a sore back,” came a soft voice behind her.

Startled—

Leaf warbler nearly sprang up. “Y-Young Master? I thought you’d gone to bed after lights out? How did you sneak up behind me?”

She hadn’t expected her limp, boneless laziness to be noticed—especially by the eldest young master! Oh no!

Cui Yuan caught her furtive glance, smiling. “What are you doing?”

Shifting attention, she replied, “Ah... this is for Sister Bai Shu.”

She hesitated; since Bai Shu hadn’t left yet, she felt awkward saying it was an early gift for the baby, lest the young master mock her.

Cui Yuan glanced at it and immediately recognized the tiger-head hat for a newborn—he himself had one, hand-stitched by his birth mother.

Made of bright orange satin, it was festive and adorable. What should have been heartwarming instead reminded him of tonight’s earlier conversation.

“Isn’t it a bit too soon?” he asked.

Embarrassed, she said, “It’s best to be prepared. Babies grow so fast after birth; if you wait, it’ll be too late.”

Indeed, time flies—the little maid had swiftly grown old enough to marry.

When did Bai Shu and Ling Xiao develop feelings for one another?

He looked at leaf warbler through the candlelight; she was around that age, perhaps even younger.

A boy who understood the ways of men and women bore a different expression in his eyes and brow.

The first sign Cui Yuan noticed of Ling Xiao’s feelings was whenever he traveled on official business and brought back local delicacies. When asked why he bought so much, Ling Xiao said it was to share with his parents and sister—but his expression betrayed him.

In Hongdu, there was a sesame and maltose cake, crisp and fragrant. Later, Cui Yuan did catch that sweet scent on Bai Shu.

Cui Yuan said no more.

Leaf warbler watched his expression shift from gentle to distant, unsure of what he was thinking. Eager to please, she asked, “Young Master, why are you up? Thirsty? Hungry? There are still some snacks in the kitchen; shall I bring you some?”

“No need,” Cui Yuan replied. “I do not eat at night.”

“Eh?”

“You should learn to take care of your health too. Eat proper meals at morning and evening times,” he said, recalling his recent exceptions. He corrected himself from “don’t eat snacks” to “eat fewer snacks.”

“Heavy oily and sugary foods are unhealthy, especially at night.”

Leaf warbler puckered her face, wanting to laugh.

Unhealthy? Who was it that never let a dish of snacks go uneaten?

Still, she wore a troubled expression and sincerely admitted, “I don’t know why, but the food at midnight and afternoon always tastes better than the main meals.”

Cui Yuan rubbed his forehead.

“Can’t sleep? Go light the lamps again.”

She understood insomnia perfectly—especially the maddening kind when you wish to sleep but simply cannot.

“Ah.”

On his desk sat a pair of especially clear, thin glass lamps. Leaf warbler removed the shades and lit the candles inside, instantly brightening the room.

“Light the ‘Pure Bamboo’ incense.”

Was this a sudden test?

She hurriedly fetched the small incense burner, recalling the day’s lessons. To her surprise, she produced a beautifully formed incense spiral.

The smoke was light and refreshing, repelling mosquitoes and clearing the mind.

The young girl’s joy was impossible to hide. She placed the incense burner where he could see it at a glance.

Cui Yuan couldn’t help but smile faintly, giving mild approval: “Not bad.”

Ha! Ha!

“How much longer until I graduate?” leaf warbler still dreamed of mastering incense making.

“Next month.”

Cui Yuan, caught in her hopeful gaze, felt a sudden lift in spirits. He leaned back in his chair.

Strangely, the unbearable pain in his shoulder blades eased considerably.

“After Mid-Autumn, things should be quieter. Then we’ll organize the incense formulas.”

Leaf warbler nodded.

Cui Yuan stroked the book cover. “If you get too tired, don’t force it. The kitchen’s food is light but no less sincere for me.”

Hearing the eldest young master joke about the kitchen’s cooking nearly made leaf warbler laugh out loud.

What Cui Yuan thought was that the kitchen’s work was truly arduous.

Day in and day out with firewood, stoves, oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar—it wasted a young girl’s youth.

He had already forgotten how his grandmother once advised him not to let a young girl’s life be buried in the kitchen.

He thought leaf warbler’s nature would joyously say, “Thank you, Young Master,” but she said seriously, “No, Young Master, I truly like the kitchen.”

“Seeing you cook meals that improve your health, making Chongyun’s cheeks rounder, makes me genuinely happy.”

Her smile, illuminated by candlelight, was clear and sincere.

So naïve.

Thinking of the two little book boys whose cheeks had been growing rounder lately, Cui Yuan massaged his brow.

“They’re almost as round as balls now. From now on, no more snacks for them.”