Chapter 109
Chapter 109: A Windfall of Two Thousand Taels
A hangover-thick headache and a dull ache in her chest tormented Xiao Man through the night.
She felt as if her bones had been dismantled and put back together wrong—every muscle screaming, every breath heavy.
She slept straight through until late morning.
“Xiao Man! Xiao Man! If you don’t get up, the sun will be shining on your butt!”
Stone’s voice boomed outside, paired with aggressive pounding that made the door tremble.
Xiao Man groaned, rolled over, and buried her head beneath the quilt as if fabric could block noise and responsibility.
“My dear young madam,” Stone called, already pushing the door open, “you’re finally awake?”
He leaned on the frame and clicked his tongue in exaggerated disapproval. “You’re a maid, and you’ve got more attitude than Eldest Young Master. Sleeping later than even Master every day—shameless.”
He cleared his throat and put on the steward’s solemn tone.
“I warn you. If you keep waking up this late, I’ll tell the Steward you’ve abandoned your post. He’ll extend your contract another three to five years.”
“Don’t, don’t, don’t.” Xiao Man stuck her head out, hair wild, eyes half-dead. “Brother Stone, I’m wrong. I won’t do it again. Esteemed official, have mercy.”
Stone’s stern face cracked. “Good. At least you know fear.”
Then he sobered slightly and lowered his voice.
“Get up. Eldest Young Master left early for the Fa Hua Temple. He said he’ll seclude himself for a few days. You can slack off today.”
“Really?” Xiao Man’s eyes brightened. Even the soreness eased, encouraged by hope.
Lin Qing Xuan gone meant freedom—an extra nap, a quiet day, peace.
But Stone’s expression shifted again. He stepped closer, voice awkward.
“Xiao Man… there’s something I don’t know if I should say.”
“Then don’t,” she said instantly.
Stone choked, then glared. “Eldest Young Master has followed an eminent monk and studied Buddhism since he was little. Everyone in the manor—us servants included—thought he’d live his whole life with a lamp and a Buddha, and that would be that.”
He paused, eyes complicated. “And then you showed up.”
His voice turned rough, almost embarrassed. “You… treat our Young Master a little better, okay?”
He tossed the line down and fled before she could respond.
Xiao Man sat there, blinking into the silence.
What did that mean?
Two days in a row now—first his mother, then his page boy—and everyone kept saying these strange things as if she’d missed a meeting where her fate was decided.
Her head throbbed harder.
Then a bright, lively voice burst in from outside like a bell.
“Sister Xiao Man! Look what I brought you!”
Lin Yu Ning swept in, grinning so hard it looked painful. She grabbed Xiao Man’s hand and dragged her deeper into the room, then shut the door and slid the bolt with dramatic seriousness.
“Sister, today I’m your money-delivering god of wealth!”
From her sleeve she produced a thick stack of paper and stuffed it into Xiao Man’s hands.
Xiao Man stared down.
Light paper. Heavy fate.
“Sister, look!” Lin Yu Ning said, eyes shining. “Two thousand taels—bank notes from the Hong De Money House. Accepted everywhere. Keep them safe. Whenever you want, you can cash them.”
Two thousand taels.
Xiao Man’s mind went blank.
She had lived two lifetimes and still had never held that much wealth.
“This…” Her voice floated. “Where did this come from?”
“Cousin’s sutra manuscript!” Lin Yu Ning nearly vibrated with excitement. “One day—just one day—and everything sold out! Five thousand taels!”
She started counting on her fingers. “The Yun Lang Art Studio took a thousand as a broker fee. The remaining four thousand—we split it. Two thousand each!”
Then she added, utterly confident, “Cousin’s a Buddhist scion. Six senses purified. Money must be like floating clouds to him. He won’t care.”
She leaned in, already thinking with her stomach. “Sister, this is enough to buy mochi ingredients, right? Make brown-sugar mochi again—I’ve been craving it!”
Xiao Man was still dizzy, her mind full of bank notes.
“Mochi gets greasy if you eat too much,” she said automatically, the cook in her waking up. “Tomorrow…”
Then the thought struck hard.
This was too much money.
When Lin Qing Xuan returned, she had to tell him. All of it. This was his.
She forced a breath into her lungs and steadied her voice. “Will you sell again?”
“I want to!” Lin Yu Ning’s grin collapsed into a pout. “But my eldest sister and second sister wrote and told me to stop. They said I can’t keep using Cousin’s name to make money. So… I guess that’s it.”
Then she brightened again, unable to keep gossip in.
“Oh! Sister Green Willow’s book—the Capital Beaux Album—is almost finished. She said she’ll give me a copy when it’s done. When it arrives, I’ll have Chun Cao call you. You have to come see it!”
Her brows waggled, dramatic. “I heard it’s impossible to get in the capital right now. The noble ladies are fighting over it, and the price is insane. Sister Green Willow is a business genius. If I’d known painting made this much money, I would’ve learned too. With a Buddhist scion cousin as a ready-made model, I could’ve gotten rich just doodling!”
She rambled, then suddenly remembered something else, eyes flashing.
“Oh! Sister Xiao Man—your indenture contract… is it almost up?”
She grabbed Xiao Man’s hand with startling intensity.
“When it ends, don’t renew! Come to my courtyard and be my personal cook. I’ll pay you ten times the wages!”
She added at once, greedy as a kitten, “You can make sweet soups too, right? You definitely can, right?”
Xiao Man stared at her, still stunned by the two thousand taels. But the moment food entered the conversation, her brain clicked into familiar gears.
“Mochi later,” she said, already planning. “Tomorrow I’ll wrap shrimp wontons. It’s cold—one bowl in the morning and you’ll be warm all the way through.”
Lin Yu Ning’s eyes lit so bright they could have been lanterns.
“Yes! Shrimp wontons! I’ll come find you first thing tomorrow!”
Satisfied, she bounced out as quickly as she had come, leaving the room to fall quiet again.
Xiao Man sat alone, gripping the bank notes that could change the course of her life.
Her head still throbbed.
Her chest still ached.
But the paper in her hands felt hotter than either—like a door that had just opened, whether she was ready or not.