Chapter Fifty-Five: The Young Madam Gao

Late at night, a furtive shadow slipped into the Tian family home; Gu Yun, who was perched atop the Lin family’s wall, saw everything with utter clarity. She merely frowned and then ignored it.

Tian the Fourth had run all the way back from the county office, dodging and hiding, terrified of being recognized. If not for four years of hard struggle and the small dagger he’d grabbed when leaving home, with which he dug a hole in the corner of that shabby prison wall, he wouldn’t have escaped at all. Luckily, his wits had saved him. His heart raced every step of the way, and, just as he entered the village, he saw the Lin family fall prey to thieves. Startled, he hid in the small woods for a long time. Seeing Lin Sanlang living so well, he couldn’t help but feel a poisonous envy. No matter—there is plenty of time ahead.

Upon returning home, Tian the Fourth received no kindness from his family. Even his wife, Li Qiaoyun, looked at him with utter disdain, ashamed that she had married such a man. Tian the Fourth swallowed his anger, enduring a life of hardship in the Tian household.

In the blink of an eye, Fubao was already six. Three years ago, Lin Sanlang had brought his wife and children to the county town, where they opened a shop—selling rouge, of course. The rouge made from red and blue grass had become famous far and wide. Every day, apart from being forced by her mother to study, Fubao spent her time in the rouge shop.

“Shenshen, I really want to go to Brother Li’s house. There are pretty fish and beautiful lotus flowers there!” Fubao gazed at the writing practice on the table, exhausted, and muttered.

“Fubao, this is the fifth time you’ve said that today!” Little Shenshen took a bite from a bright red apple, speaking indistinctly.

“But I’m so bored! Why don’t we go outside and play?”

“Are you serious?”

“Mm.”

“Let’s go.”

So Fubao dragged Little Shenshen out. The shop assistant, Xiao Hong, spotted them and tried to stop them, but Fubao played a trick and darted away, leaving Xiao Hong to shake her head in helpless resignation.

At this hour, Lin Erlang’s Treasure Pavilion was nearly empty. When Fubao, clutching her little rabbit, Xiaobai, entered, her second brother was bored, swatting flies for amusement.

“Second Brother!” Fubao called sweetly.

The sound was instantly recognizable; their little mistress often brought along the girl she played with—the niece of the chief steward, Lin.

“Miss Fubao, you’re here alone today? Would you like something to eat? I’ll bring it up for you,” her second brother said enthusiastically.

“No, no, I didn’t come to eat!” Fubao, though six years old, still spoke in her soft, childish tone.

Just then, someone in the kitchen called for her second brother—short-handed again.

“All right, play by yourself for now! If you get hungry, let Second Brother know.”

“Mm,” Fubao replied, and her second brother went inside.

Bored, Fubao poked her rabbit’s ears. Suddenly, Xiaobai’s ears shot up, and he leapt from her arms, scampering toward the stairs. At the same time, Fubao heard a faint voice—a little sister’s voice, crying in pain.

Fubao?

She came down from upstairs, appearing to be in great distress. Fubao, holding her rabbit, glanced at her second brother, who was busy in the bustling kitchen, pressed her lips together, and carried her rabbit upstairs.

The little sister’s voice came from Room Number One. No one stood by the door. Fubao slipped inside and saw a lady clutching her swollen belly, groaning in pain.

Fubao heard the little sister crying again. “Fubao, tell her to drink some water from the gourd!” The nearby ginseng spirit, witnessing the scene, frowned and spoke.

Upon hearing this, Fubao tossed the rabbit aside, reached for the cup on the round table, and opened the little gourd that Gu Li had given her. She poured a bit of water into the cup—Shenshen had warned that only a little was needed.

“Pretty auntie, drink some water,” Fubao said, handing the water to the lady.

Madam Gao weakly opened her eyes and saw a round, adorable little girl. She shook her head, refusing the drink.

“But little sister said she wants water,” Fubao pointed to Madam Gao’s swollen belly.

At last, Madam Gao drank the water. Gazing at Fubao’s big, bright eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to refuse. After drinking, she suddenly realized her pain had vanished; the child in her belly had quieted as well. Instantly, she breathed a sigh of relief—the anxiety that had hung over her heart eased away.

“Thank you, little girl,” Madam Gao said, looking at the child before her with growing fondness. She couldn’t help but think, this girl had saved both her and her child’s life.

“My name is Lin Cenbao—my nickname is Fubao!” Fubao declared loudly, her eyes wide and sparkling.