Chapter 8

After dashing back from the academy to the backyard of the Huang family shop in one breath, everyone was preoccupied with the main hall and the kitchen, paying no attention to Huang Shiyu’s unusual behavior.

At lunchtime, Liu’er brought the meal upstairs to invite Huang Shiyu to eat.

The second young lady seemed to have lost her voice; she responded once but then fell silent.

Liu’er neatly arranged the dishes and politely took her leave.

At that moment, Huang Shiyu was clutching her calligraphy copybook, hiding under the covers as she lamented the passing spring, her attention gradually drawn back to the copybook until she forgot to cry.

Besides the copybook, she now had brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.

The soft yet resilient Xuan paper, the sharp gleam of the purple-hair brush—all these treasures moved Huang Shiyu deeply. How expensive these must be! She marveled at her fortune to have such a generous patron.

Her thoughts then turned to her father.

He had always forbidden the sisters from studying; even her third sister would be beaten if she tried to practice calligraphy.

Her elder sister said that he wasn’t always so harsh; his temperament changed drastically after their mother died, developing an untouchable rage.

Yet Jian Xun used their father’s authority to threaten her... Though he was unaware of their father’s temper, his intention was to control her unauthorized visit to the male dormitory, but he inadvertently hit the mark.

Huang Shiyu wiped her tears with her sleeve.

She was not one to hold grudges, her forgetfulness great enough to let even the gravest matters slip after a night’s sleep. But this time, she decided to remember her grudge against Jian Yunzhan!

If he dared to say one more word, she would... she would... but she could not immediately think of a cruel way to retaliate.

Accusing him of bullying herself would be self-defeating, causing more harm than good.

In the afternoon, she finally emerged from her room to clean cherries, removing stems and pits.

Liu’er came to help—her hands not very skillful but her gaze more earnest than anyone else’s.

Huang Shiyu thought Liu’er had improved a great deal from before; lively eyes and a willingness to learn and work hard were a valuable skill for making a living.

The two of them occupied a corner of the kitchen. Huang Shiyu taught Liu’er how to simmer cherry jam, and even before it was taken off the stove, the sweet aroma filled the room.

Granny Hua and Lady Hua hurried over to watch; Huang Shiyu portioned a bowl for each.

Fresh seasonal produce was always exceptional.

The Hua women praised it endlessly.

Making cherry cake was not difficult: glutinous rice flour, sticky rice flour, and fine white sugar. Most families used plain water to mix the dough, but the Huang family used milk, and the cherry jam was the filling. Each bite was tart, sweet, and soft—extraordinarily appetizing.

Huang Shiyu added half a spoonful of rose syrup beside the cherry jam; the fusion of fruity and floral aromas was quite exquisite for a small place like Zehe.

Of course, that also made it more expensive than others.

Remembering that half the cherries still hung on the tree, and if they weren’t picked, the birds would eat them all, Huang Shiyu pondered.

She recalled the large courtyard at Mount Hua had a wooden ladder. Though it was a chore, she could make another trip and pick them all.

She divided the steamed cherry cakes into eight equal pieces, four per bundle, wrapped in lotus leaves and then in plain cloth napkins—square, neat, and charming.

Politeness is never out of place. When the footmen saw the snacks she brought, their faces lit up with delight.

Huang Shiyu stretched out her hands: “Let’s offer some to Master Zhang at Mount Hua first. In a few days, I’ll bring more.”

The footman grinned, “Second Miss Huang, you’re too kind. If you don’t pick those cherries soon, the birds will have eaten them all. I’ll help you carry the ladder.”

After moving the ladder, the footman dashed away with the snacks. Delivering them early to Master Zhang would mean getting a piece to taste sooner.

As Huang Shiyu looked up, pondering which cluster to pick next, Jian Xun’s voice floated down from above.

“Fusheng, help Second Miss Huang pick cherries.”

“Right away.” Fusheng responded crisply, giving Huang Shiyu no chance to react before swiftly climbing the ladder and picking rapidly.

Huang Shiyu raised her face again and saw Jian Xun.

He stood behind her, slightly bent over, his face lowered as he looked at her, then suddenly smiled, his warm breath brushing her forehead.

Jian Xun’s scent was as fresh as orchid essence, but their posture was rather peculiar.

Startled, Huang Shiyu quickly straightened and turned to glare at him.

“I recall someone before threatening me by name—how come you’ve switched back to calling me Second Miss Huang just now?”

“You called me rude names too,” Jian Xun said, hands behind his back. “How about I call you Mei Niang instead?”

“No, that won’t do!” Having reached the age of maturity, Huang Shiyu understood the significance of childhood nicknames—only those close could use them.

Jian Xun was not close to her; how could he?

He tested the waters, but seeing her displeasure, he changed his tone: “So when do you plan to stop being mad at me, Second Miss Huang?”

Huang Shiyu didn’t answer but asked back, “You wouldn’t be waiting here for me, would you?”

Jian Xun smiled, “No need to wait. You’ll go back, cry a bit, work a bit, but surely you can’t let go of half a tree of cherries. I just came over when the time seemed right.”

“Don’t think you know me so well—it’s just coincidence.” Everything he said hit the mark.

Jian Xun’s expression grew serious. “We’ve known each other so long without ever having a fight. Do you really want to hold a grudge against me?”

Huang Shiyu lowered her eyes, twisting her fingers silently.

“Ask yourself honestly—how have I treated you?”

Of course, quite well.

He once accompanied her watching an ant nest under an elm tree, remembered her love for iced bowls, and had Fusheng deliver them every summer. Since twelve, when rural children were strictly separated by gender, he stopped sending them but still secretly cared for her, alone at Sweetwater Shop.

The first year here, without Fusheng’s busy guidance, she wouldn’t even have found the entrance to Lu Jin Academy.

Recently, he had kindly walked with her part of the way.

Her father never cared about these things; he even chased her from home under the pretense of learning a trade at the shop.

In truth, it was because her presence at home upset Lady Huang.

She was the redundant one in that household.

Also a burden her father was vexed by but could not abandon.

Huang Shiyu’s eyes stung, and when she came to, Jian Xun was gently wiping her tears with a handkerchief.

He clicked his tongue. “Why are you crying again? Are you afraid others won’t think I mistreat you?”

She pushed his hand away and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “I admit you’ve always taken care of me, but if... if...”

“If what?”

“If you tell Father I’m learning to read, we’ll have to break off... break off...”

“An oath,” Jian Xun said.

“I know it’s an oath.”

“Good, you know.”

Huang Shiyu was speechless.

Jian Xun softened his voice. “From tomorrow on, I won’t meddle anymore. You can come here to collect your copybook, and I will...”

“No.”

“Why not?” Jian Xun clenched his palms. They clearly had an agreement.

Of course, a wealthy and witty patron was far more interesting than Jian Xun, who constantly interfered. But saying this aloud wouldn’t sound graceful, so she found an excuse in him: “If you teach me to read, aren’t you afraid the one you fancy will find out? We need to avoid suspicion!”

A sudden chill caught Jian Xun’s throat. After a moment of silence, he sneered, “My good intentions aren’t something to hide from the world. Why avoid it? Besides, Miss Yuan isn’t like you; she knows no rules.”

A light bulb flashed in his mind. “So Huang Shiyu knows what ‘avoiding suspicion’ means—then why do you spend time alone with Siyuan?”

Huang Shiyu suddenly thought Jian Xun was unreasonable, full of schemes and quick to flip, calling her “Huang Shiyu” every other moment, while she still called him Jian Xun in return.

“Jian Yunzhan, you can take that flag and talk to my father all you want—I’m not afraid of you.”

“Huang Er.”

Now he was shortening her title to “Second Miss Huang.”

His voice flat, without a trace of emotion: “Do you know who Siyuan is? I bet you don’t even know his full name or background.”

Huang Shiyu laughed. “I just want to learn to read. It just so happens he doesn’t mind and is willing to teach me. We get along well; why must I know who he really is?”

Jian Xun sneered, “If you’re willing to learn, why didn’t you pick me? No other reasons?”

Huang Shiyu didn’t expect such a trivial matter to be overthought by Jian Xun. “I didn’t know you were willing to teach. I can’t just ditch the one I already arranged with and pick you instead; what kind of person would that make me?”

Her patron didn’t even mention the customary gift; how could she be picky here?

She explained gently, but Jian Xun’s expression only darkened. His lips pressed tight as he muttered, “Stop deluding yourself.”

Why am I deluding myself again? Huang Shiyu frowned, glaring at him.

He wouldn’t even take her as a concubine and yet dared to fancy Siyuan. Jian Xun’s cold smile said it all—he was done caring about her.

That was the end of it; if she wanted to ruin herself, so be it.

Fusheng, perched on the ladder, finally finished picking cherries. He glanced downward. The young master, who had been “flirting and bickering” with Second Miss Huang earlier, now wore a sullen, iron-faced expression.

Whenever those two met, their moods swung wildly.

Fusheng decided to stay on the ladder a while longer.

Jian Xun still had studies to complete; wasting time wasn’t wise. His deep eyes darkened as he swept his sleeve and left Huang Shiyu behind, heading toward the dormitory.

Fusheng hurried down the ladder. “Second Miss Huang, I’ll escort you.”

Huang Shiyu politely declined, “No need to trouble yourself. I can manage on my own.” It wasn’t proper to command Jian Xun’s personal attendant.

“No problem. The young master has to practice swordsmanship at this hour, with Fuxi and Wenliang attending him. I can’t help much.”

Huang Shiyu was surprised. “He doesn’t study?”

“He does, but martial training is part of the young master’s curriculum. Besides, he can’t neglect music, chess, calligraphy, and painting.”

“Does he have three heads and six arms? How does he manage all that?”

Fusheng chuckled, “My young master has no extra heads or arms, but one brain that’s worth ten others!”

Huang Shiyu was both astonished and envious.

Without warning, Fusheng slung the bamboo basket over his shoulder and ran off.

Though the young master was angry, he couldn’t leave Second Miss Huang alone; otherwise, he would be even angrier.

Fusheng had to personally escort her home to fulfill the young master’s orders.

Unexpectedly, there were benefits to escorting Second Miss Huang home.

That day, Fusheng had brought two strings of snacks, happily bounding back to the academy.

The cherry cakes made by Second Miss Huang were fragrant, rich, and sweet.

The sulky young master had no appetite, so Fusheng and Fuxi benefited.

Miss Yuan’s broken engagement hadn’t left the young master so downhearted; those unaware would have thought it was Second Miss Huang who had broken off the betrothal, Fusheng muttered to himself.

But indeed, Second Miss Huang had broken their promise—the promise to learn calligraphy.

Meanwhile, Song Yuan, who was being whispered about by Fusheng, sat calmly in the Elegant Moon Pavilion, watching the servants packing for the journey back to the capital the next day.

Jian Xinlan gently brushed the waist-length hair of her beautiful daughter, examining her with a tender gaze.

“From now on, our family can finally attend the Empress Dowager’s Flower Goddess Banquet without distractions. My Yuan sister will surely outshine all others.”

The so-called Flower Goddess Banquet was an event the Empress Dowager held to select a bride for the Prince Su.

Song Yuan showed little joy.

She gazed at the cold moonlight outside, her thoughts on a childhood friend and playmate.

Whether the chance encounter by the lotus pond or the conversations in the mulberry garden, all had been sincere. But breaking the engagement was not her intention.

When young, Song Yuan’s understanding of him had been limited to a playmate; now grown, meeting him again stirred completely different feelings.

Looking at the marriage announcement she had received, she felt a flood of melancholy and heartache.

Jian’s neighbor’s younger sister was truly beautiful.

Whenever Jian mentioned the neighbor’s sister, whether lightly or seriously, Song Yuan sensed an overwhelming threat.

She could perceive his subtle feelings.

Song Yuan was raised to be a good mistress. She would not mind a concubine, but if a concubine got ahead of her... she would never show Jian a kind face.

Biting her lip, Song Yuan hesitated before saying, “Mother, I... I don’t want to be Prince Su’s wife.”

She only wanted to stay by Jian’s side.

“Silly child, maybe you won’t get the chance even if you want it,” Jian Xinlan sighed. “Your brother is handsome; how could you not love him? I promise, if you don’t get chosen at the Flower Goddess Banquet, Jian will be our Song family’s one and only son-in-law.”