Chapter 2

Chapter 1 (1/3)

The eldest young master Chen was having his morning meal, and during this time, the servants of the Bamboo Garden took turns eating as well. For this reason, Ye Ying woke up before the dawn hour. She was usually quite carefree and had slept soundly. Upon waking, she stared at the canopy for a moment before sitting up.

When she lifted the curtain, she saw Yulu already seated before the mirror, preparing her makeup.

Ye Ying was surprised. “Up so early?”

Yulu held two silk flowers, comparing them against her head. Seeing Ye Ying awake, she turned and smiled. “Not for long.”

Ye Ying yawned widely, picked up the wooden basin, and went out to wash up.

Summer dawn came quickly. When she stepped outside, the sky was still a dark blue, with only a faint hint of pale green above the Great Xiangguo Temple, gradually spreading over the inner city. By the time she washed her face, the blue brick ground was damp, reflecting the first light of dawn.

When Ye Ying returned, she saw Yulu still carefully applying makeup, so she changed clothes first.

Their attire consisted of plum-green narrow-sleeved dresses made of fine cotton fabric. The only drawback was that the material was from last year, making the clothes look somewhat dull, but they were convenient for work.

Yulu complained that the clothes of the head maid were prettier—the sleeves too narrow, the skirts not long enough, the colors and patterns not bright, making her appear stiff.

The head maid’s clothes were not only made of satin and silk but also embroidered by the needlework room.

For example, Baizhu’s skirt had cloud patterns embroidered at the waist in off-white, accentuating her slender figure. Though she walked with a breeze about her, she did not look particularly graceful.

Yulu envied them, but Ye Ying found these fine cotton clothes breathable and much more comfortable than the coarse hemp shirts from the pawnshop.

After much comparison, Yulu finally pinned on the pink-green silk flower, her face powdered white, lips tinted a fragrant red—truly charming and lovely.

Ye Ying had already urged her three times to hurry up, but Yulu was reluctant to move from the stool, still gazing into the mirror.

Ye Ying could only coax her, “You look good enough!”

Only then did Yulu turn her head. “Huh, when did I get this fringe cut?”

Once the fringe was let down, her appearance remained unchanged, yet Yulu felt that the snowy, ethereal beauty from last night had disappeared.

Could she have been mistaken last night?

Yulu looked closely again. In the morning light, the girl with neatly trimmed bangs, her lively spirit hidden, seemed honest and inexperienced, her raven hair making her skin appear even paler.

This Ying’er truly had beautiful skin—snow-white, translucent, with radiant bones and flesh. Yulu felt a twinge of jealousy. How could a country girl be raised to look like a daughter of a wealthy family?

She turned away, carefully comparing her own brows, eyes, and complexion.

“...” Ye Ying pressed her lips together, glancing at the brightening sky. “I’ll go to the kitchen first. Come when you’re ready.”

“I’ll be there!” Yulu replied halfheartedly.

The Bamboo Garden was a small, independent courtyard of two connected compounds. Though modest, it was peaceful. All other side gates were tightly sealed, leaving only the narrow bamboo path they had entered through yesterday.

The outer courtyard’s study was for receiving guests, usually empty except occasionally when a doctor came to see the eldest young master. Passing by, Ye Ying glanced up at the plaque above the door, inscribed with “Hall of Embracing Simplicity.”

The kitchen was located at the northwest corner of the outer courtyard, formed by two connected rooms with gable roofs. She had already seen it yesterday—spacious and well-equipped, leaving her quite satisfied. To the right were the firewood room and servants’ quarters. Outside the door grew a small bamboo grove, with hibiscus and daylilies planted below the steps, interspersed with lush trumpet vine, vibrant and bright red.

The inner courtyard to the north was off-limits to them, belonging entirely to the eldest young master’s private domain. Even standing at the inner courtyard gate, one could only glimpse half a wall of creeping ground cover behind scattered bamboo shadows.

This ground cover had another name—climbing ivy. It was not yet midsummer, still green and pleasing, except for a particularly clean patch along the windowsill, evidently tended by someone.

The window was tightly shut.

Ye Ying remembered Baizhu’s advice, glanced briefly, then put away her curiosity.

Chapter 1 (2/3)

After all, there was nothing to see!

Even while convalescing at home, Cui Yuan maintained the routine of rising early as though he were still attending court and studying.

After washing, he would sit in meditation for the time it took to burn an incense stick, practicing Taoist breathing techniques.

During this time, Baizhu would open all the doors and windows, letting the dewy breeze fill the room and dispel the stagnant night air. Then she would close them again, light the seven-colored incense, and carefully wipe the “Fulong” zither with a soft, dry silk cloth.

Cui Yuan owned seven zithers in total, with two of the Zhongni style being the most common, along with Fuxi and Luoxia styles, all crafted by contemporary masters.

The “Fulong” was said to have been hand-carved by an ancestor of the Bo Ling Cui family, passed down for centuries. It was a gift to Cui Yuan’s grandfather upon his success in the imperial examinations.

Its sound was clear, subtle, light, and distant, with a banana-leaf shape in appearance—his favorite zither.

After two or three pieces, he would comb his hair and dress neatly, usually arriving just in time for the scholar’s morning meal.

Having slept poorly the night before, Cui Yuan rose a little earlier, draping a thin cloak as he approached the side room where the “Fulong” rested. Feeling the cool air, he coughed softly and naturally glanced out the window.

A patch of green bamboo, a few hibiscus flowers.

All planted by his own hands.

Full of life.

Perhaps due to prolonged illness and weakness, Cui Yuan had started to appreciate such vibrant things. In the past, cultivating flowers as a leisurely pastime would never have been part of his life.

But now, with his health no longer able to sustain strict discipline, it was unnecessary.

The small study in the inner courtyard was called “Calm Heart Studio.” Behind it flowed a spring that cascaded around stone steps, nourishing the lush trees and flowers.

From this angle inside, the bamboo leaves did not obstruct the view. Looking through the clear glazed window, one could see the entire courtyard.

“Cangwu,” after a moment’s admiration, he left the window and said, “Prepare the ink.”

Though no longer at court, former colleagues and friends still wrote to inquire, mostly about political news or trivial matters seeking his advice. Cui Yuan chose this morning to reply to each.

Perhaps due to restless sleep, his words were sharp. When he learned that Deputy Minister Guo Hong had been demoted and Duke He Lu had visited the Minister of War, he finally set down his brush and massaged his brow.

The young attendant glanced worriedly at Baizhu.

She too looked puzzled.

The young master was displeased. As the head maid who often attended him in the study, Baizhu had heard of his political influence and guessed that the Empress Dowager’s faction was at work again.

Thankfully, at that moment, Sangye entered. “Young master, shall I set the table?”

Cui Yuan responded with a sound.

The Calm Heart Studio bustled.

The first scent to fill the air was a light but rich fragrance of rice. Cui Yuan glanced at the table.

A bowl of fragrant, soft chicken porridge; a dish of translucent sticky rice dumplings with bamboo shoots and bracken; a plate of crisp lettuce dressed with sesame oil and vinegar; and a plate of golden “straw coat” pancakes, crispy outside but tender inside, steaming hot.

Whether from his past official banquets or the main kitchen’s skill, none compared to this modest meal. Only the dumplings showed some culinary skill, pinched with delicate pleats like lotus leaves—quite charming.

After setting out four or five bowls and plates, Sangye served Cui Yuan half a bowl of porridge.

She had already tasted the new cook’s dishes and earlier, while with Chongyun in the servants’ quarters, they had even squabbled over the last egg pancake. But since the young master preferred mild flavors, she served him only half a bowl as before.

Cui Yuan observed the porridge; it seemed different from the main kitchen’s—thick and glutinous, pale yellow chicken threads spreading throughout, tiny droplets of oil on the surface. Once cooled slightly, a jelly-like skin formed on top.

Stirring the spoon, he lifted the still-hot porridge from the bottom, finding only rice and chicken.

He had never tasted such simple porridge before. Scooping a spoonful, he let it cool briefly, then tasted it, pausing his wrist in surprise.

Unexpectedly, it was very good.

Sangye watched as the dignified, refined scholar took spoonful after spoonful, finishing the half bowl of chicken porridge.

Cui Yuan looked up.

Sangye suppressed her surprise and quickly served him a little more.

But Cui Yuan no longer hurried to eat the porridge, instead savoring the side dishes leisurely.

He first looked at the refreshing dressed lettuce.

Currently called “Crisp Langxuan,” it was likened to bamboo—crisp and crunchy, making a sound when chewed, with a faint sesame oil fragrance, simple but not bland.

The straw coat pancakes were fried on both sides, oily but not greasy, with slightly charred parts adding crispness. Biting into one, the aroma of scallions blended with pancake and a hint of peppered meat—indeed fried in rendered fat.

Most notable were the dumplings: usually made with mung bean flour, which was thicker and chewier than these. The filling of glutinous rice, bamboo shoots, and bracken was presumably steamed, then mixed with a light sauce before being wrapped and steamed again, making the rice tender and sticky.

As Cui Yuan reached out again, he realized he had unknowingly finished all three dumplings.

He’d also eaten a bowl of porridge, leaving some of the side dishes untouched and one pancake, with three remaining.

Still not much, but definitely more than usual.

He slowly put down his chopsticks, thinking the grandmother had chosen reliable cooks this time.

After a satisfying morning meal, Cui Yuan felt much better. Wiping his hands and mouth, he set aside the “Cangwu” zither and picked a book from the shelf.

Baizhu, seeing the cleared dishes, was surprised. “Did the young master eat all this?”

Sangye nodded hesitantly. “Perhaps... he ate less last night?”

How else to explain his sudden appetite?

“The two cooks the grand matron found are quite good,” Baizhu affirmed.

Ye Ying remained in the kitchen, pickling cucumbers and eggplants; Yulu put down the utensils and left on her own.

When Yulu arrived earlier this morning, the porridge was already boiling on the stove, so Ye Ying had her cut the lettuce and scallions.

Now, Ye Ying barely glanced at her before focusing on her work.

The main kitchen certainly had such pickled snacks but not with her method and fragrance. She prepared these now to be ready for July and August.

Five catties of cucumbers and eggplants were washed, cut into strips, drained, mixed with cooked salt and rice lees, then minced ginger, tangerine peel, fennel seeds, and peeled soybeans. Tightly wrapped with two-inch thick paper, sealed with yellow clay, to be opened after a month.

Used in stews or steamed fish, two spoonfuls enhanced the dish with shiny fermented black beans, tender meat, and crisp, tangy pickles with a rich wine aroma—great for appetite.

Using leftover rice lees, Ye Ying also pickled fish, placing the jars by the east room’s wall. That room stored grains and was spacious. She planned to add jars of bamboo shoots, pickled radish, and preserved cucumbers later, to improve the servants’ meals.

Salt crystals mixed with lees stuck to her hands, sticky and uncomfortable. Behind the kitchen was a well where Ye Ying was washing her hands when she suddenly heard footsteps at the door.

“What are you running about for? What if you miss the young master’s medicine time?!”

Ye Ying took a couple of steps out and saw Baizhu tugging a child’s ear, scolding him on the way.