YBTGX 10

Chapter 10

The Liu Estate

Steward Wang made his way through the winding corridors, skirting past artificial rockeries and pavilions. The layout of the Liu estate was exquisite, every corner exuding the elegance and depth of a scholarly family. Before he even neared the Qinxin Garden where the Master and Mistress resided, the sharp, shrill sound of a child crying and throwing a tantrum reached him.

Steward Wang paused his steps, composed his expression, and then stepped inside. Upon entering the garden, he saw the seven-year-old young master, Liu Quan, lying on the ground, rolling around, crying and kicking his legs.

“I don’t care! I want a maid! I want a personal maid!”

Beside him, the beautiful mistress of the Liu household, Madam Lin, crouched down, patiently trying to soothe him. “Be good, Quan-er. You’re just a child; what would you want with a maid? When you are older, Mother will naturally arrange one for you.”

Liu Quan scrambled up from the ground, hands on his hips, his small face full of stubbornness. “I don’t care! I want a maid to bring into my little room and listen to her sing!”

A look of confusion flickered across Madam Lin’s face. “Sing what kind of songs?”

Seeing that his mother didn’t believe him, Liu Quan cleared his throat, puffed out his little chest, and began to sing with full confidence.

“Ah… mmm… ah… ah, ah…”

The voice was coquettish and winding. Although it came from the mouth of a seven-year-old child, it was perfectly mimicked, enough to make anyone blush and their heart race.

The air in the garden froze instantly. Madam Lin’s face shifted from pale to green, then from green to crimson. Master Liu, who had been leisurely sipping tea at a stone table, jolted, spilling boiling tea all over his hand. He didn’t even notice, too terrified to even breathe.

Madam Lin stood up abruptly and glared fiercely at Master Liu. In the next instant, she grabbed a feather duster from a nearby vase and yanked Liu Quan toward her.

“I’ll have you ‘singing’! I’ll have you ‘learning to sing’!”

“You little rabbit, if I don’t beat you to death today!”

Liu Quan’s pig-slaughtering shrieks instantly echoed through the entire Qinxin Garden. Master Liu huddled his neck, his body trembling slightly, but he didn’t dare let out a single sound, his eyes drifting away in a daze, as if his soul had wandered far from his body.

Steward Wang stood where he was, watching this chaotic scene, and couldn’t help but involuntarily picture Lu Lin. That six-year-old child who had knelt on the ground—neither humble nor overbearing—and with such clear logic, had quelled a family dispute in just a few sentences. Then he looked at this little young master who was currently howling while being thrashed.

Steward Wang took a deep breath, feeling that those five taels of silver were money very well spent.

…

After the whirlwind of drama, the feather duster in Madam Lin’s hand had snapped into two pieces. Her chest heaved violently as she pointed at the shivering Master Liu in the corner, too angry to speak. Finally, she squeezed a sentence through her gritted teeth:

“When the upper beam is crooked, the lower ones are awry. All those books of sages you’ve read have gone straight into a dog’s stomach!”

Master Liu didn’t dare to retort. He let his wife’s spittle spray onto his face, even stepping forward flatteringly. “Don’t be angry, My Lady, don’t be angry. If you ruin your health, my heart will ache. I heard that the Jinxiu Workshop in the prefectural city has released a new set of ready-to-wear clothing made of cloud brocade that best suits your temperament; I’ve already sent someone to buy it post-haste.”

Madam Lin snorted coldly, her expression slightly softening. Only then did she turn her attention to Steward Wang, who had been standing to the side for a long time, eyes cast downward in a respectful demeanor.

“Old Wang, what is it?”

The “Old Wang” was a term of intimacy others didn’t share. Steward Wang was someone she had brought from her maiden family—a true trusted confidant.

“Madam, the matter of the pageboy has been settled,” Steward Wang replied, bowing, his tone steady. He took a register from his sleeve and reported briefly. “I vetted ten candidates this time, all good folk from around Qinghe County. Zhao Erniu from Dawang Village is sturdy, but a bit dull. Sun Houzi from Xiaoli Village is clever, but his eyes are a bit too shifty…”

He reeled off a few names of villages and children before finally settling on the end of the list: “Xiahe Village, Lu Lin.”

…

At dinner time, one seat was empty at the Qinxin Garden table. Madam Lin looked at the vacant spot, her elegant brows slightly furrowed. “Where is the Young Miss?”

Mo Xiang, standing to the side, stepped forward and whispered, “Madam, Steward Wang brought back new storybooks, and the Young Miss is reading them.”

Hearing this, the displeasure on Madam Lin’s face turned into a helpless, doting smile. She waved her hand. “Very well, let her be. Mo Xiang, take some food over there; don’t let her go hungry.”

Mo Xiang acknowledged the order, efficiently transferring a few exquisite dishes into a food box, and walked toward the Young Miss’s courtyard. As she pushed open the door to the girl’s chambers, a faint scent of ink and paper drifted out. In the room, aside from the bed and tables, the most abundant item was books. From the bookshelves in the corner to the low tables by the window, and even the footstool by the bed, stacks of books were piled high.

A ten-year-old girl was sprawled over her desk, completely absorbed. She wore her hair in double buns and was dressed in a pale green ruqun dress. Although she hadn’t fully matured, her refined features already showed the blueprint of a future beauty. Occasionally, when she found something amusing, the corners of her mouth would curl up, revealing a pair of adorable fangs.

“Young Miss, it’s time to eat.” Mo Xiang set the food from the box onto the table, dish by dish.

The eldest daughter of the Liu family, Liu Qingyue, didn’t even look up; she simply murmured a soft, distracted “Mmhmm,” her eyes glued to the book.

Mo Xiang, accustomed to this, began chatting about the interesting things she had heard at the dinner table while tidying up the empty teacups.

“Miss, guess what interesting thing Steward Wang encountered on his trip this time?”

The young girl still didn’t look up.

Mo Xiang continued to talk to herself. “Steward Wang really had his eyes opened while picking a pageboy for the Young Master this time. There were ones with snot bubbles hanging from their noses, and others who couldn’t stop bragging. But in the end, he really did find a great treasure. For five taels of silver, he bought a genuine little prodigy.”

A prodigy? These two words finally made the young girl move her gaze away from the pages for a fleeting second.

Seeing that she had piqued her interest, Mo Xiang immediately became spirited and began to narrate the story vividly.

“Indeed! A little child named Lu Lin, only six years old. His family was dirt poor; his father had a broken leg, and his grandparents were going to sell him for money. But his Eldest Uncle, a despicable man, tried to pocket the extra two taels of silver from the sale. Guess what happened?”

Mo Xiang intentionally left a gap for suspense.

“The little guy, in front of everyone, didn’t cry or make a fuss. First, he flattered his Eldest Uncle, saying he was thinking of the family’s future, then he defended his mother, saying she was just thinking of the family’s livelihood—neither was wrong. Finally, he came up with an idea: asking a respected village elder to keep the money. If the Eldest Uncle really goes to study, the money goes to the teacher; if he doesn’t, the money goes to treat his father’s leg. With just a few words, he made everything airtight and left his greedy Eldest Uncle’s face turning green.”

“And at the very end, he kowtowed to his parents, saying he was unfilial for being unable to serve them, and letting them bear the name of having sold their own son—it moved everyone present to tears.”

Liu Qingyue listened quietly. The storybook in her hand had, at some point, been closed silently.