Chapter 5

The moonlight was obscured by clouds; even with a candle lit, the visible area extended only to the ground at her feet. This faint flicker of flame was too weak to drive away even mice or insects, let alone a towering man. Ye Ying could only pray that the figure was a night patrol servant who, seeing the light, had simply come to investigate. But even if it were a mere servant, encountering her alone—a solitary woman—was still extremely dangerous. Compared to malevolent spirits, people with ill intent were far more terrifying.

Just as she was about to scare herself into fainting, the other party spoke first: “Who skulks there?” The voice held no malice, yet it was peculiar. Ye Ying turned around in surprise and saw a small book boy holding a lantern, appearing no older than seven or eight. That innocent, youthful voice belonged to him. She had never seen him before. If he wasn’t Chong Yun, then he must be another book boy serving the eldest young master. Ye Ying quickly deduced his identity.

The person behind him—could it be the eldest young master?

“Miss, who might you be?” Ye Ying’s gaze passed over the young book boy and settled on the tall, slender figure standing behind him. The night was thick, and the candlelight faint. Whether it was the moon goddess hearing her silent prayer or mere coincidence, at that moment the moon peeked out from behind the dark clouds. The night-blooming jasmine, which only opened after dusk, faintly filled the air with fragrance. The moonlight was clear and cold, casting delicate shadows across the man’s face, whose refined features seemed touched by frost. His eyes were lowered; he did not intervene in the exchange between the book boy and Ye Ying.

The wind shook the bamboo leaves throughout the courtyard. He stood there quietly, evoking in her mind the verse from the Book of Songs: “Behold the green bamboo in Qi’ao, lush and flourishing.” For a moment, Ye Ying was distracted, staring fixedly until Cang Wu cleared his throat. Hastily, she lowered her head and said, “I am… the new cookmaid who arrived a few days ago. My name is Ying’er.”

Only the eldest young master would be visiting with a lantern at such a late hour. As she scrutinized Cui Yuan, he was likewise studying her. The moonlight illuminated the girl’s face—almond eyes, rosy cheeks, delicate and bright. She stood gracefully, as if the very spirit of the pure white jasmine flower behind her had taken human form. Her green dress resembled flower calyxes; her slender neck and lotus-pink face, with watery eyes, seemed like dew distilled from the essence of heaven and earth. Clear and pure, like the stream flowing past the Chengxin Studio.

She was a pretty girl. Only the heavy, neatly cut bangs across her forehead seemed out of place, adding a touch of foolishness to her otherwise perfect appearance. Cui Yuan did not take offense at her lack of etiquette. He nodded slightly but did not step forward; instead, he remained in the bamboo shadows and asked, “What are you doing here so late?”

Cui Yuan seldom stayed in the outer courtyard; it was mere chance that he had encountered her. Around mid-afternoon, the physician came to Baopu Hall to take Cui Yuan’s pulse. The attending doctor, Zhang Rui, was a disciple of the now-retired chief imperial physician Liu Miao, and his expertise in cardiopulmonary medicine far surpassed that of the current palace doctors. Since taking over the case years ago, Zhang Rui knew Cui Yuan’s condition thoroughly—treatment could only alleviate symptoms, not cure the root cause.

Cui Yuan’s current regimen, including his medications and acupuncture sessions held once every ten days, aimed solely to ease the bone pain. The acupuncture took an hour; after the doctor left and another incense stick burned, Cui Yuan finally awoke. Outside, dusk was settling. At this time, Sang Ye came to ask if he wanted dinner served. After acupuncture, the hour was always late, so Cui Yuan usually rested in the outer courtyard.

He nodded, too weary to speak. The recent treatment had expelled toxins from his body, leaving him fatigued. He coughed weakly a few times, and Sang Ye hurried to close the window shutters. Baopu Hall, like the Chengxin Studio, had a main room partitioned into three chambers: study, main hall, and bedroom, from left to right. There were also two side rooms—one for storing books and the other a resting place for the night-watch maid.

After finishing his meal and with nothing pressing to do, Cui Yuan browsed the books stored in the trunks, quickly realizing that Bai Shu had not organized them properly. “Bai Shu,” he called, only to remember she had taken the afternoon off. Sang Ye leaned in and asked, “Young master?”

Cui Yuan said, “When the weather clears, take the books out to sun them and reorganize them.” He continued flipping through the volumes for a while. By the hour of the dog, perhaps refreshed from his afternoon nap, he was now alert but unable to sleep even while lying on the couch. He put on his robe and rose.

Tonight’s night watch was Cang Wu, who was so tired he was nodding off against the door, his head bobbing like a pecking bird. Cui Yuan twitched his lips but did not laugh or wake him; instead, he went to the study. Before lighting a lamp, his gaze was drawn to a flicker outside the window—a tiny glimmer of firelight swaying gently in the summer night breeze.

Cui Yuan stared at the faint light for a while. The servants of the mansion, having sold themselves into servitude, were born into the household and would die within it. They could not return home nor honor their own kin openly. Even on their parents’ death anniversaries, they had to quietly find a secluded place to burn paper offerings, lest the family discover it. Thinking thus, Cui Yuan felt a pang of loneliness emanating from that faint flame.

It could not be someone from the Bamboo Garden. Everyone around him was a family-born son of the Cui household, and he knew his family situation well. Who would come to the Bamboo Garden at night just to make offerings?

Just as he reached the door, Cang Wu suddenly woke, rubbing his sleepy eyes. “Young master, do you want some water?”

“There’s someone there,” Cui Yuan nodded slightly. “Can you see who it is?”

Cang Wu also saw the firelight. Startled, he immediately lit his lantern. “Young master, don’t bother. I’ll go chase them off.” Inwardly, he cursed the fool who had chosen such a large garden to burn paper offerings and come right in front of the sick young master. How thoughtless!

But Cui Yuan wrapped himself in his robe and walked ahead. Cang Wu watched his calm expression, seeing no anger, and after a moment remembered that the anniversary of the young master’s mother was approaching. This must be why he was so moved.

Sigh.

By the time Cang Wu reached him, both the young master’s father and mother had long since passed. The young master he knew was cold and distant, even sharper in demeanor due to his political clashes with the Empress Dowager’s faction. There was no trace of the little young master who, on his mother’s anniversary, would hide away and quietly wipe away tears, as his elder brother Ling Xiao described.

At the spot, the cold young master surprisingly spoke first: “What are you doing here so late?”

Since entering the mansion, Ye Ying had only met the highest-ranking servant—the old nanny of the matriarch. She had never dealt directly with the family head, so she was understandably nervous. Afraid of being mistaken for a thief, she quickly pulled from her pouch a handful of night-blooming jasmine flowers and showed them. “I’m gathering night jasmine. These flowers only bloom at night, and their fragrance is best before the dew falls. I didn’t want to disturb you, young master.”

Her voice was hurried and trembling with nervousness, almost amusing. Cui Yuan looked at the pale buds resting in the girl’s delicate, pale hands, gently exuding a faint fragrance. “What do you pick flowers for?”

Ye Ying put the flowers back in her pouch and explained, “Night jasmine can be used in cooking. I plan to use them for tomorrow’s breakfast.”

So it was such a misunderstanding… Cui Yuan shook his head inwardly, recalling the two very different snacks made today. “Have you been preparing the meals these past two days?”

“Yes.”

He nodded slightly, no longer curious. Watching them leave, Ye Ying breathed a sigh of relief, thinking: The eldest young master isn’t so frightening after all!

But after only a few steps, Cang Wu hurried back. “Give the lantern to the young lady. The night is dark; she should return early.”

Looking at the ethereal figure fading into the night, Ye Ying bowed in gratitude. “Thank you, young master.”

Picking a small handful more, she carefully snuffed out the candle, took the lantern, and returned to her room.

The next morning, she was startled awake by Yu Lu’s exaggerated shouting: “Ying’er, where did this glazed tile lantern come from?”

Last night had been dark and she was too tired to notice. It turned out that the lantern Cang Wu had given her was not a mere paper lantern but a precious glazed tile lantern. When unlit, the shell shimmered with iridescence, set with a whole piece of translucent glass that was quite beautiful.

Fortunately, Yu Lu didn’t ask questions and simply said happily, “Now you won’t have to carry a candle when walking at night.”

Ye Ying got up and saw the day was overcast and stifling; near dawn, the room was still dim. Yu Lu had not given up on her mission, sitting before the mirror with a lit lamp, carefully shaping her eyebrows.

Ye Ying only thought about the impending rain in the afternoon and how such weather was perfect for eating something warm to sweat it out.

For breakfast, she made shrimp dumplings in soup, the broth lightly flavored with dried shrimp. The dumplings floated and sank in the bowl, each with thin skin and generous filling. Several small dishes of sauces—cornelian cherry oil, vinegar, and clear soy—were served alongside.

The vegetables were lightly blanched baby bok choy, and a cup of thick, sweet snow fungus and pear soup completed the meal.

Sang Ye had set the table when the young master looked at her quietly.

Sang Ye: “...?”

Cui Yuan: “Is that all?”

Sang Ye: “Yes.” She peeked uneasily into the food box—completely empty.

Cui Yuan took the soup spoon and stirred the clear soup with the dumplings.

Sang Ye somewhat inexplicably complained to Bai Shu, who burst into laughter: “Young master, could it be you think it’s too little?”

She had spent half the previous day bedridden; now, though able to bustle about, her mood fluctuated more than usual.

Yesterday, Sang Ye told her that the young master wanted to reorganize those books again; Bai Shu guessed it was because he thought her previous effort was messy.

Bai Shu was exasperated, having labeled hundreds of volumes one by one, nearly exhausted herself, yet he was still dissatisfied and told her to do it herself! Even maids have their tempers, after all!

Knowing Cui Yuan could hear them, she deliberately joked with him, since he couldn’t punish them for idle chatter.

Cui Yuan: “...”

Chong Yun came running, carrying a food box taller than himself. “Sister Bai Shu! Sister Ying’er said this breakfast was prepared especially for you. It smells so good!”

Bai Shu asked joyfully, “Really? What is it?”

Sang Ye exclaimed, “Wow, smells great! Let’s open it!”

When they lifted the lid, the aroma was even stronger. They all sniffed the delicious scent at once.

Chong Yun blinked. “She said it’s called... a flower. Sister Ying’er said if Sister Bai Shu eats this, her stomach won’t hurt.”

“It’s night jasmine! It can be simmered in soup, but it’s troublesome—you have to gather it at midnight,” Sang Ye said enviously. “How come she’s so nice to you? I don’t have any.”

“Move away! It’s all mine!” Bai Shu swatted away Chong Yun’s sneaky fingers trying to steal a bite and cradled the food box like a treasure back to her room.

Sang Ye was telling Chong Yun she also wanted to eat chicken stewed with night jasmine and asked Chong Yun to check with Ying’er if there were any leftover flowers to make some for her at dinner. She promised to pay—no point wasting it.

Chong Yun grinned, “Then I want half.”

Sang Ye pinched his chubby cheeks, “Eat! Eat!”

Suddenly, they heard the young master inside calling for dishes to be cleared. Sang Ye hurriedly let Chong Yun in and saw that only about half the dumplings had been eaten; the side dishes were almost untouched.

Sang Ye was puzzled. These past two days, the young master’s dishes had been cleaned quite thoroughly.

After the dishes were returned to the kitchen, Ye Ying noticed the leftovers and was curious.

“Is something not to the young master’s taste?” she asked cautiously.

Chong Yun waved her off: “It’s not Sister Ying’er’s fault. It must be because of the acupuncture yesterday. Sister Ying’er didn’t know, but after every acupuncture session, the young master loses his appetite.”

Ye Ying relaxed and smiled, “Then I’ll cook something sour tonight to whet his appetite.”

Chong Yun took the opportunity to mention Sang Ye’s request.

Ye Ying quickly declined, “What money? I don’t want any! If you like my cooking, I’m happy.”

In the afternoon, the sky grew darker. Heavy clouds hung low with moisture clinging to the eaves, looking like rain could fall at any moment, possibly even thunder and lightning.

Thinking ahead, Ye Ying finished making the snacks early. Before Chong Yun could come to fetch them, she took the glazed tile lantern with its embedded glass and went to the inner courtyard gate.

“Sister, why are you here?” Chong Yun was playing a sliding block puzzle on a large stone by the gate. Seeing her arrive, he slid down immediately. “Hey, isn’t that the young master’s lantern?”

Ye Ying said, “It’s going to rain soon. I was worried you’d get wet, so I brought it early. Also, please return this lantern to little brother Cang Wu for me.”

Chong Yun looked at the lantern—no doubt the young master’s—but still said cautiously, “Wait for me a moment.”

With that, he took the snacks inside and asked, “Did he lend her the lantern?”

“Of course!” Cang Wu replied. “Why, she even came to return it? That would make the young master seem so stingy!”

Inside, Cui Yuan heard only snippets and the word “stingy,” prompting him to call them both in. Chong Yun repeated his question.

Cui Yuan nodded. “Tell her it’s hers.”

A lantern was nothing to take back.

“Also,” he glanced at the snacks laid out today—four plump, adorable persimmon pastries, perfectly colored and fragrant, made with the usual care—he tasted one. The pastry was many-layered and richly textured, the sweetness just right, even better than the Xiao family’s.

Chong Yun was still waiting for what else he might say.

What could he say? It was hardly fitting to explain that he had assumed the young girl’s careful gathering of night jasmine was to prepare his breakfast, only to find it was for Bai Shu.

He thought of those bright, clear eyes shining under the moonlight. The words caught in his throat, and when he spoke again, it was: “Nothing else. Go ask if she’ll be picking flowers tonight. If so, have Cang Wu help her.”