Chapter 9

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The night was as dark as ink, the sparse stars dim. On the official road, a woman wearing a veiled hat sped through the night. Encountering soldiers guarding the city gate who tried to stop her, she immediately showed her waist badge: “Urgent imperial report!”

The city guards changed their expressions upon seeing it, ignoring the untimely hour, and quickly opened the gate to let her pass.

At the hour of the tiger, the tranquility of the Purple Palace was shattered by hurried footsteps. The emperor was abruptly awakened from sleep. Hearing the visitor’s news, he came rushing to the side hall without even straightening his robes.

“What’s the matter?” he asked calmly, looking at the woman kneeling on the palace steps.

“The princess was playful and wandered alone into the bustling market. She was targeted by human traffickers... I failed in my duty to watch over her. By the time I arrived, Your Highness was nowhere to be found,” she replied.

The emperor was shocked and furious, and suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood.

Everyone in the hall dropped to their knees.

Aunt Ruan urgently kowtowed, “The urgent matter at hand, Your Majesty, is to dispatch forces to assist me in searching for the princess. Should I fail, I am willing to die to atone. Please, Your Majesty, take care of yourself!”

An attendant swiftly brought ginseng tea. The emperor sipped it and gradually regained composure, then asked in a deep voice, “Are you sure it’s human traffickers?”

Aunt Ruan said, “Afterward, I and Doctor Xu inquired around Qi County. On the same day, four other girls of the same age disappeared. If it were the empress dowager, such measures would be unnecessary.”

The emperor glanced toward the inner palace, closed his eyes briefly, and recalled his eldest son who died young, torn apart from his kin... Despite the overwhelming hatred, he had to swallow down the bitter, metallic taste rising again in his throat.

“Huang Shang, immediately arrange for fifty inner guards to secretly leave the palace. The princess must be found.”

“Remember, no matter where she is or what she encounters, I want my princess to return safe and sound.”

After sending away his most trusted attendant and dismissing everyone else, he sat alone in the main hall for a long while, then took out a stack of portraits.

Flipping through them one by one, each depicted the same little girl—wearing a red coat and hat while setting off firecrackers, or rolling up her pants to fish in the river... all with smiling faces.

From infancy to sixteen years old, sixteen portraits in total, one for each year. The first fifteen had been handled so often their edges were yellowed and curled.

The emperor clutched the drawings, exhaling deeply.

At the end of the hour of the tiger, a fierce wind howled outside. Ye Ying, sleeping soundly, was startled awake by a loud bang as the window lattice smashed to the floor.

Looking out, the wide-open window revealed a gloomy sky, making it seem as if it were still late at night, yet the study already glowed with lamp light, with the maids moving about.

Still shaken, she sat on the bed, dazed for a moment until the damp, salty wind mixed with raindrops hit her face, the moist and oppressive air finally pulling her fully awake.

She dreamed that uncles and aunts in the village stopped plowing the fields to search for her, letting the land lie fallow, and after the autumn harvest, everyone was so hungry they had to gnaw on tree bark and roots! Ugh!

Alas.

“Is the window broken? That noise scared me to death,” Su He entered carrying a bucket. “Looks like rain’s coming. I brought you some hot water. Hurry and get ready.”

Compared to her former roommate Yulu, Su He was indeed much more considerate.

But just when they hoped to avoid the rain, the fine drizzle soon turned into a torrential downpour accompanied by thunder and lightning. Water streamed from the eaves into the corners, and by the time they were ready to leave, ankle-deep puddles covered the ground.

It was truly impossible to take a step.

They had no choice but to change into straw sandals and support each other as they crossed the uneven, flooded ground.

Su He complained, “On a day like this, we should be staying inside.”

“Exactly.”

Su He sighed again, “Being a maid is tough. You don’t even control your own fate—better off working outside.”

Ye Ying thought of the future and sighed, “Actually, it depends on the nature of the household.”

“True. So, what do you think of our young master?” Su He asked, glancing sideways to gauge her reaction.

Ye Ying’s bright face broke into a gentle smile, her tone sincere: “The young master is kind and generous, truly wonderful.”

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Su He smiled warmly, “Yes, we should follow the young master loyally.”

Ye Ying felt there was some meaning left unsaid in those words.

Struggling through the rain, the two parted at the inner courtyard gate, and Ye Ying finally arrived at the kitchen.

The rain had lessened. She propped an umbrella upside down under the corridor to drain water, tilted her head, and surveyed the sky. It was still dark, and it looked like more rain was on the way.

Today was the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, and there were many traditional foods to prepare.

In the south, eggs were popular; in the north, cakes. She first selected over ten eggs and boiled them with brown sugar and ginger jujube tea in a clay pot. She also rolled out thin noodles, cut them finely, boiled them, then rinsed them in cold water.

Beef she had marinated the night before was sliced paper-thin and arranged with shredded cucumber, chopped coriander, shredded radish, yellow bean sprouts, and a few blanched tender spinach leaves—five colors, pleasing to the eye.

She mixed a clear sauce of garlic paste, salt, vinegar, and sesame, to be tossed with the noodles, coating each strand in a tangy aroma. Ye Ying somewhat missed the cold noodles of Joseon from her previous life; it was impossible to replicate that exact flavor in this ancient era lacking many ingredients.

If it were just for herself, a simple bowl of refreshing cold noodles would suffice. Thinking of the dashing scholar who was like a bright moon, she felt that would be unfair to him, so she also prepared a few homestyle side dishes: okra salad, Longjing shrimp, scallion oil tofu, and a hot cup of red date and goji berry tonic to replenish energy and blood.

The colors were well balanced, with a pleasing mix of meat and vegetables. The aroma was delightful. She set aside a bit of each for herself.

Tucking in two summer solstice eggs, Ye Ying stepped out as the rain lightened, deciding to carry less and foolishly leaving her umbrella behind. But as soon as she reached the inner courtyard gate, the sky changed; rain poured down in sheets, and a fierce wind rose.

She moved cautiously, sheltering the food box and picking her path under eaves and corridors, but still the rain whipped sideways and soaked her shoulders and hair. Annoyed, she ran to avoid ruining her hair, freshly washed only yesterday.

But the vast courtyard always had spots not covered by eaves. Unable to pass, she stood and waited for the rain to stop.

“Young master, it’s raining again. We just sowed seeds yesterday—might be flooded to death,” Chong Yun complained, standing by the window of the Clear Heart Studio, blaming the weather.

Then he noticed Ye Ying trapped at the far end of the corridor. “Eek, looks like Sister Ying forgot her umbrella?”

Cui Yuan sat nearby, idly plucking strings. The window framing the view outside was cleverly designed, with an extended ledge so that even with it open, rain wouldn’t blow inside.

The zither was always set there, and at times like this, playing to the rain was like befriending the breeze and drinking with the bright moon.

Seeing Ye Ying leaning against the wall under the rain curtain, pouting and staring at the sky, still in her blue gown issued by the household, clutching the black food box, her now longer bangs wet and casually tucked behind her ears, revealing her delicate forehead.

She looked a bit disheveled and silly. Cui Yuan said, “Go bring her here.”

Chong Yun grabbed an extra umbrella. Though small, he felt shy sharing an umbrella with a girl.

“Sister, Sister Ying,” he called through the rain, “I’m coming to get you!”

His small body was awkwardly weighed down by oversized straw sandals, making him look comical. Ye Ying covered her mouth and chuckled, “Thank you.”

Chong Yun corrected, “The young master sent me.”

“In that case, thank the young master.”

...

Their childish banter drifted to Cui Yuan’s ears, making him smile.

When Ye Ying arrived, she thanked him in person. Cui Yuan said, “Better late than never. No need to rush next time.”

If it wasn’t late, he’d starve himself silly.

Ye Ying blinked.

“What’s today?”

The food box looked especially large.

“It’s cold noodles,” Ye Ying opened the box to reveal a dazzling array. “Young master, today is the summer solstice, so we should eat cakes and eggs.”

The summer solstice eggs had a peculiar aroma—pungent yet sweet and spicy. Cui Yuan ate only half.

Ye Ying noticed and pushed the mild, delicious Longjing shrimp dish forward.

Cui Yuan saw her half-wet sleeve and said, “Enough. Go change into dry clothes. Chong Yun is here; that’s enough company.”

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“Hmm...” Ye Ying felt a little embarrassed.

“What’s wrong?” Cui Yuan looked up.

It had rained for days—damp and hot. Clothes couldn’t be washed and dried properly, and she was already down to her last clean outfit.

Cui Yuan paused. His memory was sharp; he reckoned she had only four sets of clothes to cycle through.

How could she be this poor?

He reflected—was the household allowance too little?

“Baishu,” he said, frowning, “take her to change into your clothes, and pick out two more fabrics.”

His people shouldn’t be this destitute.

It was unbearable to witness.

Ye Ying secretly chuckled, surprised that playing the poor had its advantages.

Baishu was delighted to linger with her a bit longer, asking what colors she liked.

“No need for anything too fancy. I don’t want to wear nice clothes for work—would hate to dirty them,” Ye Ying replied honestly. “The kitchen’s dusty; something easy to clean is best.”

Baishu came back carrying two pieces of beautiful satin.

“Don’t give me that look,” Baishu said helplessly. “You don’t know, the young master can’t stand seeing those around him dressed poorly. If I picked something too dull, he wouldn’t say it, but he’d find a way to replace it tomorrow.”

Ye Ying was speechless: “...”

So, the eldest son actually disliked her clothes for being ugly? This...

She looked down at herself, thinking her clothes were fine.

Recalling Yulu’s previous complaints, she began to doubt her own taste.

She could only say, “Alright then.”

Baishu told her to try on a new outfit she had just tailored.

Ye Ying refused, “Sister, just give me your old clothes. I’ll only wear them for a little while. I won’t parade in front of the young master. It’s fine, really.”

“I have plenty,” Baishu insisted, forcing them on her. “Try this shorter one on; see if it fits. Hurry up, don’t catch cold.”

Baishu spoke the truth. Opening the chest revealed many new garments—peach pinks, royal blues, all bright and beautiful.

Ye Ying’s eyes sparkled.

Baishu smiled, “Didn’t lie, did I?”

“Why did you make so many new clothes?” Ye Ying asked, noticing they didn’t look like typical maid attire.

“Shh!” Baishu whispered, “I’m getting married soon and preparing my dowry. Only the young master and Sang Ye know about this—don’t tell anyone.”

Ye Ying was shocked and heartbroken. Baishu was only a year older than her—how could she be getting married?

Was it to a servant or would she be given freedom to marry as she wished?

What about her?

Then she recalled the eldest son’s promise: if she ever wanted to go home, she would be granted freedom.

Ye Ying felt grateful.