Ming Yi’s story matched what Shu Zhonglin had said—her hands, roughened from years of labor in the countryside, were undeniable proof. Yet Ji Bozai couldn’t shake the odd feeling that her waiting for him in the study was deliberate, almost staged.
Still, he masked his suspicion beneath his usual calm, his voice soft and steady as he comforted the tearful beauty before him. He kissed away her tears and murmured, “I’ll be busy for the next few days. If you need anything, tell Nanny Xun.”
Her eyes glistened. “You won’t come back at night either?” she asked, her voice muffled and small.
“I will,” he said with a low chuckle. “How could I not? Yi’er is quite capable.”
Her cheeks flushed. She yawned softly, exhaustion lingering after her tears.
He had always indulged her, unconcerned with rules or propriety. Seeing her tired, he spoke gently, “Rest a bit longer. When lunch is ready, have Nanny bring it to your bedside.”
“Okay.” Her lips curved into a small, tear-stained smile.
After ruffling her hair, Ji Bozai turned and left the room.
As the heir of Muxing City, even Prince Gong both feared and relied on him. Sending that wine attendant had been nothing more than a subtle probe, a test of where his loyalties lay. Ji Bozai had no intention of making enemies—accepting the person was simply good sense.
What he hadn’t expected was how jealous the one at home would become.
Ah well, the novelty still lingered. He could indulge her a few days longer.
“Sir,” Bu Xiu called softly as he followed, “the magistrate has taken people to the old Meng residence.”
Ji Bozai frowned. “Why?”
“I heard the young master of the Yan family caused trouble. The magistrate went searching for clues there.”
The Mengs had once been the most respected family in Muxing City. Their legitimate daughter, Meng Xian’an, rose to empress and bore an heir—destined for eternal glory. Yet rumors of an affair shattered it all. The Grand Minister, enraged, ordered her execution and the exile of her kin.
The grand old residence, with its green tiles and red walls, had long stood empty—too opulent, too cursed.
“What could they possibly find there now?” Ji Bozai murmured, a smirk ghosting his lips. “Report to me if there are any developments.”
“Yes, sir.”
As he turned down the corridor, his gaze lingered on the courtyard where Ming Yi stayed.
“When you have time,” he said, “find someone to check on that girl. Choose a few light on their feet.”
If she truly didn’t know martial arts, one fall might have her crying for half a day—and then he’d have to comfort her again.
Bu Xiu, surprised by his tone, only nodded quietly.
The sky outside was dull and gray. Without lamps, the room was shrouded in dusk-like gloom.
Nanny Xun opened the door, expecting Ming Yi to still be asleep. But beneath the drawn curtain sat the girl herself, red-eyed and downcast.
“Nanny.” Ming Yi’s voice quivered as she pouted, tears welling again.
“Oh heavens, don’t cry,” Nanny Xun said quickly, waving her hands. “I’m terrible with crying girls.”
Ming Yi sniffled, swallowing her sobs. “Is it time for lunch?”
“The master asked what you’d like to eat,” Nanny Xun replied gently. “The kitchen can make anything you wish.”
“I’m not hungry.” She lowered her head. “The master doesn’t care about me at all.”
Well, that’s normal, thought Nanny Xun. There were more girls in this courtyard than there were meals in a day. None of them ever stayed long.
But this one—though spoiled and dramatic—had a strangely sweet nature. After a while, she became rather endearing.
“If he didn’t care,” Nanny Xun said softly, “he wouldn’t have brought you back.”
“He brings others back too,” Ming Yi protested, clutching her chest. “And he’s so gentle with them. It hurts to watch.”
So she’d fallen in love already.
Nanny Xun sighed and picked up a comb, running it gently through the girl’s hair. “A girl should live for herself, not for anyone else. Don’t starve yourself.”
“It’s hard…” Ming Yi muttered. “Is the cook from the Feihua or Chaoyang cuisine?”
Nanny Xun blinked, then chuckled. “No, this is Muxing City. Naturally, the cook’s from Muxing cuisine.”
Muxing cuisine was light in flavor—too mild for Ming Yi’s taste. She sighed, “I guess I’ll manage to eat something.”
Nanny Xun smiled. “I’ll go have it prepared.”
But before she could leave, Ming Yi tugged at her sleeve. “Do we have black sugar plums? As an appetizer.”
“We do.”
“And golden milk pastries?”
“Yes.”
“Then add osmanthus fish, soft-stewed deer tendon, and a bowl of sweet snow noodles.”
Nanny Xun stared, then laughed. “Do you call that managing to eat something?”
Ming Yi sniffled, pouting again. “I’m still upset. So… will you eat with me, Nanny? The master won’t accompany me.”
Nanny Xun hesitated—there was no such rule in the household, and it wasn’t wise to get close to someone who wouldn’t stay. But this girl’s charm was disarming, and the dishes were her favorites.
“Oh, fine,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll be right back.”
Once the meal was served, Ming Yi ate slowly, asking between bites, “What does the master usually like? Is there something I can learn to please him?”
“If he likes you,” Nanny Xun said simply, “he’ll be pleased no matter what you do. If he doesn’t, nothing will help.”
Ming Yi bit her lip. “I learned music, chess, calligraphy, and painting in the inner court, but none of it seems useful.”
“The master’s a fighter,” Nanny Xun said, savoring a bite of tender deer tendon. “When he’s free, he only listens to music or watches a dance.”
Ming Yi sighed again. “Then I shouldn’t go to the study, right? I won’t go again.”
“The study in the outer courtyard isn’t forbidden,” Nanny Xun replied. “But if you ever step into the main courtyard—without permission—it’s death.”
So this wasn’t even his main estate? Ming Yi’s mouth twitched.
A cunning rabbit indeed had three burrows. If this grand place was only an outer residence, what must his true manor look like?
“Oh, and the master said to give you the storeroom key,” Nanny Xun added. “You’ll handle the courtyard accounts from now on.”
Ming Yi blinked. So that’s all? She’d thought she was being trusted with great wealth—only to realize she’d become the outer courtyard’s unpaid accountant.
Still, she liked money. Even just counting it made her happy.
So after lunch, she began reviewing ledgers stacked high. The old records were endless, so she focused on this year’s accounts.
Nanny Xun lit a lamp and stayed for company—until two strange cuckoo calls echoed from outside.
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