Chapter Thirteen: Each Busy in Their Own Way

The next morning, as always, Yang Yaozong rose early to exercise. Xiao Hua was already accustomed to seeing her young master performing those strange calisthenics and movements. The young master claimed it was for his health!

Yang Yaozong continued to take his meals in his own room. Not long after breakfast, he was practicing calligraphy with a brush—a daily requirement he set for himself. In this era, one had to master brush writing; though his characters were not yet elegant, diligent practice would eventually yield clarity and neatness.

“Young master, Bruno has arrived,” Xiao Hua announced, knocking lightly on the open door as Yang Yaozong wrote.

Yang Yaozong had already instructed Xiao Hua to bring Bruno directly to him upon his arrival.

He put down his brush, went to the basin by the door to wash his hands, while Xiao Hua tidied up the inkstone, brushes, and paper.

“Have someone move all the plants Bruno brought to the vacant spot northeast of the pond in the back garden. Have them handle the plants with care,” Yang Yaozong said as he dried his hands with a towel.

“Yes, young master.” After clearing the writing table, Xiao Hua poured the dirty water from the basin into a wooden bucket, set the basin aside, and reported, “On the way here, I explained the basic rules of the household to Bruno. He just nodded—I’m not sure if he understood. I also showed him the places he can and can’t go. His quarters are prepared, right next to Steward Hao’s. I informed Steward Hao last night about Bruno, and he agreed. Just now I introduced Bruno to him as well.”

Yang Yaozong was pleased at Xiao Hua’s thorough arrangements. For a girl of just fifteen, she was truly worthy of Nangong Qingyi’s training—methodical and attentive to every detail.

Xiao Hua accompanied Yang Yaozong out of the room, heading straight for the front courtyard to carry out his instructions.

Yang Yaozong saw Bruno standing a little awkwardly at the path to his room. Smiling, Yang Yaozong approached, and Bruno quickly came forward to greet him. In French, Yang Yaozong said, “Bruno, welcome. Today you officially begin your work in the Nangong household. As long as you work diligently and faithfully, you will never be treated unfairly.”

Bruno nodded eagerly in response.

Yang Yaozong then walked Bruno through the residence, helping him grow familiar with the layout, and repeated the household rules Xiao Hua had mentioned. In truth, there were not many regulations—just the need for Bruno to be mindful of his words and conduct, since customs from his homeland did not apply here in the Great Zhou. Along the way, a few servant girls and manservants greeted Yang Yaozong. They eyed the tall, burly foreigner curiously as the pair conversed in a language they did not understand, but after a few curious glances, they returned to gossip among themselves.

“Our young master doesn’t seem foolish at all—he’s rather handsome, actually.”

“Exactly! And he can speak that strange foreign tongue to the foreigner. How impressive!”

“I heard that the foreigner was personally recruited by the young master to tend to the flowers and plants. He’s even been given a room next to Steward Hao’s.”

“Really? Is that true? Someone looking after flowers gets to live next to Steward Hao?”

“It’s true. I saw Xiao Hua herself take the foreigner—his name’s Bruno or something—to see Steward Hao this morning.”

A cluster of young maids, faces flushed with excitement, chattered away about this new curiosity. Matters concerning their masters were beyond the station of servants, but gossiping in private was a small pleasure.

Over the next few days, aside from practicing calligraphy, reading, and exercising, Yang Yaozong spent time with Bruno tending to the plants. Occasionally, he would leave the residence, bringing Xiao Hua and Bruno to Bruno’s former small courtyard to care for the flora there. Yang Yaozong seemed genuinely interested in these matters.

Xiao Hua would often remind him, “Young master, you’re a scholar. You shouldn’t keep doing the work of servants. If Miss finds out, she’ll be upset.”

Yang Yaozong would simply laugh and reply, “I have no wish to be a scholar who knows nothing of the world or the land. Besides, this is good exercise. Haven’t I grown taller and stronger?”

Spending every day with him, Xiao Hua hadn’t noticed much change, but when Yang Yaozong mentioned it, she looked him over and, after some thought, exclaimed, “You really have grown taller and stronger, young master! You look much more spirited than before!” She blushed as she said this.

By mid-June, the weather had grown sultry. The sun hung lazily in the sky, the wind was soft as a maiden’s breath, and the air was thick and moist, as if dew hung in every corner. That day, a gentle, persistent rain began to fall—the city of Tianjing had entered the plum rain season.

In a quaint courtyard on Wuyi Lane by the Qinhuai River, a graceful beauty dressed in a pink silk gown reclined. This was Yin Ruxin. The courtyard was usually deserted, so she had placed a bamboo couch in the pavilion, where she lounged idly, her hand occasionally plucking the strings of the zither on the stone table before her.

Since her last meeting with Yang Yaozong, she too had been busy. Ensuring that the eldest prince of the Loyalist Prince’s household left the capital safely, despite the strict surveillance, required her careful planning—though the prince made his own arrangements, she still had to anticipate potential incidents and prepare solutions in advance.

Her days were filled with busyness, often helping the prince attend social occasions she found tedious and mundane. Yet the prince, Jing Min, seemed to thoroughly enjoy attending gatherings with her, relishing the admiring, envious, or even jealous gazes they attracted.

Yin Ruxin handled these events with outward poise but inward disdain. Still, their public appearances together served a purpose: to present the image that the prince was utterly captivated by the city’s renowned beauty, inviting her to outings and gatherings, showering her with rare gifts—all to suggest he was lost in her charms and indifferent to worldly affairs. This was precisely the impression Yin Ruxin wanted him to give, to lull their watchers into complacency and pave the way for his eventual escape from the capital with fewer obstacles. Evidently, her plan was succeeding. At recent gatherings, the prince was regarded as Yin Ruxin’s favored companion; they arrived and left together—a handsome gentleman and a peerless beauty, a perfect match in everyone’s eyes.

The sultry weather persisted, the light rain failing to bring relief. If anything, the air grew more oppressive, the rain saturating the atmosphere and making it hard to breathe deeply. Yin Ruxin declined all social invitations that day. Even so, Prince Jing Min invited her twice, but she tossed the invitations aside, uninterested.

Her residence was the only two-story building in the rear courtyard. Her room was on the second floor. She shut herself inside and sat at her dressing table, intending to arrange her hair. In the mirror, her face was as round and luminous as the moon, her eyes bright as apricots in spring, lips naturally red, brows dark and well-shaped without need of powder.

Yet her thoughts wandered to Yang Yaozong. What was he doing? Was he busy? Had he forgotten her? He had promised to send her a gift. Her heart was filled with longing, worry, and irritation.

She rose and paced to her writing desk, brows furrowed, lightly biting her lip. She wrote “Yang Yaozong” with her brush, but found herself at a loss for how to invite him over. She ended up filling the page with his name again and again. Only when the entire page was covered did she realize what she’d done. The more she looked at the names, the more vexed she became. In a fit of annoyance, she scribbled over them, crumpled the page, and stomped on it. Others vied for her favor, but he acted as if she were of no consequence. She fumed inwardly.

Stifled by the stuffy room and her own irritation, Yin Ruxin retreated to the pavilion, flopping lazily onto the bamboo couch, plucking at the zither’s strings now and then. Suddenly she sat up, brows smoothing, her eyes alive with excitement. If Yang Yaozong would not come to her, she could go to him! But then she remembered their last playful conversation—it would be improper to visit him at Nangong Manor, especially as he was a live-in son-in-law and Nangong Qingyi was away. No matter her guise, it would be inappropriate. She lay back, biting her lip, pondering how she might see him. “That man! Truly infuriating!” she thought sweetly yet exasperatedly. She knew Yang Yaozong was a live-in son-in-law and treated her only as a friend and confidante. She understood there might never be anything between them, but she could not help but think of him. This only made her angrier with herself—why had she lost her composure over this man?

Yin Ruyun, whose room was just below, came upstairs to visit. Though the sisters rarely spoke much, they found contentment simply being in each other’s company.

Separated for training when they were three, the sisters had not returned home since. Their parents had been killed years before by the authorities of Wuling Prefecture, victims of a plot to protect their clan. This fact had been kept from them until their recent trip to Tianjing, when they were to return home and pay respects to their parents. Only then did the elders of the valley reveal the truth. Though the girls had lived apart from their parents since childhood, their feelings for them endured. The news was a heavy blow, but with responsibilities to the valley and the death of their master weighing on their hearts as well, their pain turned to hatred for the officials of the dynasty. In accordance with their master’s instructions, they made an alliance with the Loyalist Prince, determined to aid his eventual rebellion and clear the way for his plans.

Yin Ruyun had observed her sister’s recent busyness. As Yin Ruxin was her only kin in the world, she wanted to know her better and take good care of her.

Seeing that Yin Ruxin had declined all invitations and was resting in her room, Yin Ruyun decided to keep her company—even if they didn’t speak, her presence might offer solace. She also hoped to help her sister relax by channeling her inner energy.

Knowing Yin Ruxin’s every movement, Yin Ruyun waited until she left for the pavilion, then quietly entered the room. She noticed a crumpled, trampled page on the floor, picked it up, and smoothed it open. Through the creases and scribbled ink, she saw only the name “Yang Yaozong” written over and over. The ink was still wet—it had just been written. A whole page of “Yang Yaozong,” then scribbled out, balled up, and stomped flat. Yin Ruyun pondered her sister’s feelings as she did this. Brows furrowed, she glanced out the window to see Yin Ruxin lying languidly in the pavilion, though now and then she made excited, almost girlish gestures. Yin Ruyun had never seen her sister behave so. Looking again at the scribbled name, she wondered: could this “Yang Yaozong” be the same Master Yang she had heard of? Did her sister favor him? But she knew nothing of this Yang Yaozong—what manner of man was he, and what were his capabilities?

At that moment, Yin Ruyun resolved to investigate Yang Yaozong thoroughly.