Chapter 3

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Ye Ying knew he was the eldest son’s personal attendant. The eldest son had two attendants: the elder, called Cangwu, who was two years older, and the younger, named Chongyun. Both were still very young, barely out of early childhood, and remarkably adorable.

When Ye Ying saw them, her eyes curved into a smile. She took a few steps forward and greeted them warmly, “Sister Baizhu, Brother Chongyun.”

Baizhu instructed, “Ying’er, please look after Chongyun for me. The young master needs to take his medicine in the study.”

Ye Ying replied, “Yes!”

Baizhu was very busy and left Chongyun behind as she went on. Chongyun rubbed his ear and giggled, “Sister Ying’er, may I borrow your stove for a bit?”

Seeing his young age, Ye Ying initially worried whether he could brew the medicine properly, but seeing his small body crouched by the ground, tilting his head, and skillfully tending the firewood in the stove, she assumed he was used to the task.

She returned to her own work.

Unlike Yulu, who took every chance to slack off, Ye Ying treated her duties with care—not out of innate servility, but because she still dreamed of buying back her freedom one day and going out on her own.

No matter how kind the Xiang residence was, the ransom money for freedom and the favor owed to the master’s family were both indispensable. And both depended on diligently serving until the eldest son’s final journey was completed.

That morning, she noticed that many of the straw raincoat cakes remained uneaten in the bowls and plates brought back. For some reason, she picked a small piece from the edge to taste. Hmm, once cooled, the animal fat solidified, but the cake was still fragrant—though probably a bit greasy for someone ill.

She re-fried the cakes with vegetable oil, experimenting with different temperatures and methods. Eventually, she invited Chongyun to taste test with her. They both agreed that slow-frying in animal fat over low heat with some pepper and salt was best: crisp and delicious when hot, and not greasy when cold.

Chongyun squatted by the stove, cheeks puffed out, chatting casually with Ye Ying. “Sister Ying’er, where are you from? How did you come to the Xiang residence?”

He was young and quick-witted, making it easy for him to lower others’ guard—likely why Baizhu sent him to gather information.

Ye Ying, unaware she had been drawn into conversation, looked at the dark, bitter medicine and asked, “What medicine is the young master taking?”

“This is a tonic to strengthen the body and nurture vitality,” Chongyun replied.

A sharp pang stirred in Ye Ying’s heart—a complex, indescribable feeling.

Since arriving at the residence, she had often heard others mention how the eldest son’s illness was grave and incurable. But hearing rumors was not the same as facing the harsh reality.

She recalled her own final days before transmigrating—when she gave up chemotherapy and switched to conservative treatment. Outwardly, she kept a cheerful and positive front to appease her family, but inwardly, she was terrified.

Her heart ached with a shared sorrow.

Seeing it was still early, she stared at the medicine stove thoughtfully, then fetched a small stool and sat by the door, shelling peas one by one.

With nimble fingers, she pressed the pods to reveal the plump peas inside. She gathered several in her hand, then carefully poured them into a ceramic pot. Repeating this, she soon piled up a heap of tender green peas.

She washed the peas and boiled them with water.

As the sun rose higher, its light fell on her bowed face, illuminating her features like jade.

Chongyun, holding his cheeks in his hands, couldn’t find the words to describe the scene—only that it was so beautiful he couldn’t look away.

The stove bubbled and steamed, the small hearth filled with the bitter scent of medicine and the smoky aroma of burning firewood. Upon closer sniffing, there was also a faint, delicate fragrance of peas.

“Sister Ying’er, what are you making?”

Chongyun, ever sharp, had just called her “Miss Ying’er,” but after she playfully tossed him a piece of sugar cake, he switched to calling her “sister.”

Ye Ying smiled, “I’m steaming pea cakes. I’ll save you a couple.”

Once the peas were fully cooked, Ye Ying sifted away the skins, then ground the peeled peas into a fine powder. She mixed in sugar, pressed the mixture into molds, producing what was called pea flour cakes. Going beyond the usual recipes, she added some cooked milk to make small, thumb-sized pieces with a finer texture.

By the time the medicine was ready, so were the pea cakes. She placed them on a pale green, floral-edged jade porcelain plate, packed them with the medicine bowl in a lunchbox, then wrapped a few extra pieces in a clean handkerchief and handed them to Chongyun.

“The young master’s medicine tastes bitter. These pea cakes are tender and sweet, perfect for someone with weak qi and blood,” Ye Ying said simply, not mentioning that she was sending them through Chongyun.

Chongyun stuffed his share into his robe pocket, thanked her, then trotted along the stone path toward Chengxin Hall.

Everyone in the Bamboo Garden followed the eldest son’s schedule, eating only two meals a day. Ye Ying casually brought a few snacks with her, planning to rest a bit before returning Yulu to take over her duties.

She searched the courtyard but didn’t find her, nearly succumbing to the midday sun’s heat. Rushing back to her room, she found Yulu leisurely sprawled on the couch, eating melon seeds.

Ye Ying was furious to the point of falling backward!

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She approached, “Aren’t you afraid of being seen?”

Yulu rolled over indifferently, “Everyone’s gathered around the young master. Who has time to care about us?”

Ye Ying urged her to go to the kitchen, lest they be scolded for neglecting their duties.

But Yulu didn’t want to move. With a quick glance, she shirked, “Ying’er, you go instead. We can take turns, one day each.”

Ye Ying sighed, “Then you can’t run off again tomorrow.”

After Ye Ying left, Yulu didn’t stay lying down. She got up, checked her reflection in the mirror, reapplied her lip balm, straightened her clothes, and twisted her waist as she left the servants’ quarters.

Yesterday, she had overheard the maid Suhe in the inner courtyard say that the matriarch hoped the two of them, Yulu and Ying’er, would win the eldest son’s favor and bear him an heir.

The young master’s parents had both passed away early. The matriarch doted on her only grandson. If Yulu could continue the family line for him, wouldn’t her future be full of wealth and honor?

Just as she was thinking this pleasantly and reached the inner courtyard’s gate, about to peek inside, a round-faced, very cute young attendant blocked her path.

“Which servant girl are you, miss?”

The attendant was very young, with a soft tuft of baby hair on his head and a small braid at the back. Yulu, seeing his youth, didn’t take him seriously and brushed him off, “I’m the new cook in the courtyard. I just wanted to ask if today’s meals suit the young master’s taste. Could you please pass the message?”

Then she took out a pouch and offered him a piece of cake as a bribe.

Unexpectedly, he ignored her entirely. “No need to pass the message. The young master is not seeing anyone. You should leave quickly—if Sister Baizhu sees you, both of us will be scolded.”

Yulu tried to argue, but the attendant turned his back and sat on a large rock, clearly waiting for her to leave.

Yulu was speechless.

Watching her sulky retreat, Chongyun secretly curled his lips, thinking she didn’t even know how to bribe properly. That cake looked dry and cracked on the surface, obviously stale for days.

Completely dried out!

He reached into his pocket, took out the plain white handkerchief package Ye Ying had given him, and picked a pale yellow-green pea cake to eat. Mmm, sweet!

Ye Ying had wrapped him four or five pieces. She had originally planned to save some for Cangwu but had changed her mind—she just couldn’t bear to part with them.

Outside, the noise didn’t disturb the inner courtyard. On the doctor’s advice, Cui Yuan would practice his martial forms in the morning to loosen his muscles, going only as far as comfortable.

Given his current frail condition, excessive or strenuous exercise was unsuitable. After slowly completing two sets of movements, a light sweat formed, his hands and feet warmed, and the pallor on his face flushed with renewed vitality—the most comfortable moment.

Baizhu waited nearby, first offering a towel for him to wipe the sweat, then serving tea.

The warm tea spread a soothing heat through his limbs and bones. After resting a while, Cui Yuan didn’t go inside but instead sat down in a wicker chair in the courtyard.

The day was bright, clouds drifting lazily, a clear spring flowing over small stones, casting cool shadows beneath the trees and easing the summer heat.

Truly a perfect day to sit and watch the clouds unfold.

Cui Yuan called for a fishing rod and bait and sat beneath a tree to fish.

This state didn’t last long. As time passed, his hands and feet grew cold again. Without needing his command, Baizhu, watching the time, brought his cloak in promptly.

Chongyun also returned, carrying the freshly brewed medicine.

“Put it there.”

By now, whether he drank the tonic or not made little difference. He took it daily only to soothe his grandmother’s heart.

He could feel the medicine’s faint effect, preventing unbearable pain at night, but also sensed something gradually draining away inside him.

Irrevocably lost.

Cui Yuan took the cup without expression and drank it down in one gulp.

He didn’t frown. Hearing the bitter taste, Chongyun frowned tightly and quickly brought out the pea cakes Ye Ying had prepared. “Young master, try these snacks to counter the bitterness. Sister Ying’er made them.”

Cui Yuan noticed the crumbs clinging to Chongyun’s mouth and raised an eyebrow, his attention clearly caught by the name “Sister Ying’er.”

It was unfamiliar to him, likely someone arranged by his grandmother yesterday.

In the past, many maids or women tried to glean information about him through Chongyun or Cangwu, but the two boys were never fooled.

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Either this maid was skilled at winning hearts, or the snack truly was delicious.

Cui Yuan knew his attendants’ natures well. Those who served as his personal attendants were not the type to be easily swayed by a piece of candy or cake.

Suddenly, he recalled the taste of the shredded chicken congee from that morning.

He didn’t usually eat candied fruits after medicine, but at that moment, he thought that spending such a leisurely afternoon without a pot of tea and some snacks would be a waste.

So he picked up one of the pale yellow-green cakes, dotted with tiny bits of tangerine peel, looking quite ordinary.

He put it in his mouth, and after a moment, the mildly sweet and slightly sour flavor dissolved on his tongue, gradually replacing the bitterness.

Ye Ying wasn’t sure if he liked it, so she made only a few—each about thumb-sized, stacked in a small tower on the plate.

Cui Yuan sat in the wicker chair, fishing while admiring the sunlight and cloud shadows. The snacks beside him felt so natural in his hands.

Over the afternoon, the tower of cakes dwindled, losing its “spire,” then its “roof,” and gradually the “body” disappeared until only the “base” remained.

Baizhu grew suspicious. She thought perhaps the breakfast was too light, and the young master had already lost his appetite due to the tonics. No matter how exquisite the meal, he only nibbled lightly. When had he ever shown such fondness for a snack?

Having caught no fish, Cui Yuan glanced at the sky, wiped the crumbs from his hands, and said, “Let’s go back.”

At mealtime, the Bamboo Garden residents expected the young master to have eaten too many snacks and be unable to eat much. Yet, although he ate little, he drank most of the lotus seed soup, leaving only a little broth.

Baizhu’s lips twitched. The young master’s appetite was quite good today.

Had it been the attendant Ling Xiao, who usually served him, this soft, steaming lotus seed soup drenched in hot honey would have been devoured in three bowls easily, followed by two large bowls of rice. But the young master was weak and sickly, and Baizhu worried he might suffer indigestion.

What Baizhu did not know was that Ye Ying, anticipating the patient’s poor appetite, had added some tangerine peel powder to the pea cakes to stimulate digestion and appetite. Unintentionally, it perfectly suited Cui Yuan’s taste.

Cui Yuan usually ate only about seventy percent full, but today’s dishes were especially to his liking, so he ate a bit more.

During the meal, he pondered.

The main kitchen’s food was not bad—in fact, it was carefully prepared and very light, suitable for convalescence. Yet it did not suit his palate.

His taste buds had long been corroded by the bitter medicine, making bland food feel like chewing wax. But he disliked overly sweet or oily food, so he could not adapt to the heavier tastes of common fare.

This cook was very good.

After finishing, he instructed Baizhu to prepare hawthorn drink.

Baizhu took the chance to pull Chongyun aside.

Chongyun stuck out his tongue and reported what he had learned.

The more Baizhu listened, the happier she became.

Yesterday, she had felt that this young girl named Ying’er was beautiful yet unambitious, very pure. Now it seemed she was not only skilled but also thoughtful—knowing the young master took medicine and, without instruction, had made snacks for him without trying to get close.

Baizhu’s impression of her improved further. She said with relief, “She causes no trouble, and the young master likes her cooking. That’s best. From now on, let her be in charge of the young master’s meals.”

The young master needed meticulous care, and wasn’t there another cook for the rest of them?

Baizhu’s idea was quite selfless, but Chongyun was displeased and shared all the goings-on in the inner courtyard.

Baizhu frowned.

Following Cui Yuan, both she and Chongyun had seen too many attempts disguised as genuine concern but really tests. Yulu’s excuse was unconvincing and her methods clumsy—her intentions were obvious.

Moreover, Yulu was quite resistant to Baizhu’s arrangements.

Baizhu was busy handling everything personally and usually wouldn’t mind such trivial matters, but if someone caused trouble again, her prior bad impression would resurface.

“Let’s wait and see,” Baizhu said coldly. “Three strikes. If she behaves from now on, fine. But if she keeps disturbing the young master, we’ll have to send her away.”