Chapter 8

Since that night of the Dragon Boat Festival when she was “spoken to,” Ye Ying’s situation in the Bamboo Garden had undergone subtle changes.

First, everyone’s attitude toward her shifted. Previously, except for Baishu—who held more sway in front of Cui Yuan—no one else would actively engage in casual conversation with them. Even Chong Yun, who used to joke with her, had a strict mouth.

Recently, when walking along the path, she noticed that several young maids like Rindong and Suhe would now greet her proactively.

Moreover, the gatekeeper at the inner courtyard was removed, and Chong Yun no longer came to deliver meals.

Ye Ying dared not enter rashly. When she brought the food box to Baishu, she found her half lying on the roof collecting books, with Cangwu holding the ladder below and still managing to wave at her one-handed: “Miss Ying’er!”

Cangwu fancied himself more composed than Chong Yun and was less sweet-talking; upon seeing someone, he’d call out “Brother” or “Sister” loudly. But Ye Ying noticed the ladder behind him wobble slightly and her heart nearly leapt.

Clearly, he was still just a child.

Baishu scolded him from above, and Ye Ying hastily steadied the other side, taking the opportunity to voice her doubts.

Baishu replied, “Don’t worry about it, just go straight in.”

“Won’t that disturb the young master?”

“Actually…” Baishu hesitated briefly, then said, “It’s fine, since you’ve already met the young master, he has a good impression of you.”

She glanced at the food box in Ye Ying’s hands and asked, “These are snacks for the young master, right? He’s inside; you should bring them in.”

Ye Ying felt flattered: “Maybe I should ask Young Master Cangwu to…”

Cangwu shrank his neck, “I’m just here holding the ladder!”

“He just got scolded; he wouldn’t dare go in,” Baishu sneered, revealing Cangwu’s secret.

Ye Ying stifled a laugh and tried to reassure him, but inwardly thought it surprising that someone like the Eldest Young Master could lose his temper and scold others.

What she didn’t know was that Cui Yuan didn’t need to do anything—just a single call of “Cangwu” in his pleasant voice would make Cangwu’s back bristle.

Cui Yuan treated servants equally, indifferent to whether they were senior maids or lowly helpers.

When someone made a mistake, he neither punished them physically nor slapped them like his cousins did to their servants; instead, he made them copy scriptures.

Those scriptures were like inscrutable texts—difficult and arcane. Cangwu couldn’t understand them but could recite them by heart with eyes closed.

The box in the young master’s study, used to store those copied scriptures, was taken out every year for offering, yet remained full.

Cangwu was certain that at least half were his!

The late husband and wife in the heavens must surely feel his sincere devotion.

Even so, Big Brother Lingxiao often said that the young master was ungrateful for the blessings he and Chong Yun enjoyed; Cangwu dared not imagine what hardships Lingxiao had endured before.

Lingxiao once said, “Think about it, when we lived in the front courtyard, wasn’t the master especially attentive to the young master’s affairs? The servants were all on edge. Now the young master manages you all better, isn’t that good?”

Cangwu had arrived at the young master’s side the year he came second in the imperial examination. After Cui Yuan achieved the provincial degree, the prime minister found it improper to interfere with his discipline of servants, so naturally had no memory of that time.

Lingxiao, at thirteen, had been soundly beaten with twenty strokes; his flesh bled, and when bandaged, the blood dried and clung to his clothes. Limping, he still had to reply to the master.

Cui Yuan coldly stopped him, “Where are you going? To thank him for punishing you?”

Then, after speaking with the prime minister, the monthly allowance that was supposed to be withheld continued uninterrupted. From that point on, the young master moved out of the main residence and had his own courtyard.

That year, the young master was twelve.

“Have you ever been beaten with a big board? Ever gone hungry?”

Lingxiao gave Cangwu a playful kick. “The young master doesn’t even dare slap you; be grateful!”

Cui Yuan’s study was much like the room Ye Ying lived in—looking like a bamboo house from outside, but inside, to prevent dampness, it had green bricks. The flooring here was more refined, impeccably clean and gleaming, each tile carved with the Four Gentlemen flowers, complementing the pale blue silk screen.

Frost-colored gauze curtains fluttered with the breeze, and a multicolored fragrance wafted through the air.

It was June, the height of summer’s blazing heat.

Though just a few dozen steps in, not enough to break a sweat, clothes clung to the body like they had been warmed over charcoal.

At sight of the cool-toned decor, Ye Ying felt a refreshing chill all over. She looked twice before stepping inside.

Chong Yun was attending to the calligraphy supplies and smiled upon seeing her.

Ye Ying winked and tiptoed over to gently place the snack box on a nearby table.

Today’s flower-translucent glutinous rice cake was her proudest creation—pure white skin with a faint blush, small and exquisite in appearance, and unmatched in taste.

Made from premium Wuxing rice, steamed with fresh milk and pounded into a soft mass, the aroma and stickiness differed greatly from regular glutinous rice. The filling was white horse beans peeled and steamed, mixed with a bit of tangerine peel, then fried into a smooth, delicate bean paste.

Everything was perfect, though a bit tedious; she had started after breakfast and only now had a single plate of eight ready.

She couldn’t resist sampling one while it was still hot from the steamer. Soft but not sticky, sweet but not cloying, the bean paste and milk’s sweetness accented by the citrus peel’s fresh aroma was deeply satisfying.

Paired with clear tea, she devoured three in quick succession, yet yearned for more.I'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.