Chapter 15
Chapter 15: Is the Master Household Going to Void Her Contract?
Xiao Man carried a water bucket with an uncommonly light step, humming a tune that barely counted as music.
Her mood was dangerously good.
Dong Chun passed with a tray of empty plates, then doubled back, eyeing her with curiosity. “Sister Xiao Man, did you pick up money? You look so happy—did the small kitchen save you some pastries?”
Xiao Man reached out with a wet finger and tapped Dong Chun on the forehead. “All you think about is eating.”
Her gaze slid across the yard. Young maids chattered in a loose cluster—Dong Chun, Qiu Yue, all of them fresh and tender like spring.
And an ugly thought crawled up her spine.
Why did this ridiculous “Buddhist Scion in heat” mess have to land on her?
If she left… would Lin Qing Xuan shift his attention to the other young maids?
She told herself it didn’t matter. Seven months. Just endure seven months, get her papers back, and walk out without looking back.
So why did her chest ache, faint and senseless, like a bruise she couldn’t stop pressing?
A cool voice cut through her thoughts. “Xiao Man.”
Xi Qiao, the First Madam’s personal maid, had appeared behind her without a sound.
“The First Madam wants you.”
Xiao Man’s heart dropped. Her grip slipped; water sloshed onto the ground.
Panic drained the color from her face. “Sister Xi Qiao… did I do something wrong?”
Xi Qiao shook her head, expression flat. “I don’t know.”
She truly didn’t.
Seeing Xiao Man trembling like a quail, Xi Qiao’s mouth curved with rare amusement. “You’ll find out when you get there. Since when are you so timid? Last time we played cards in the back rooms, you won my money and stuck out your hand for it. You weren’t quiet then.”
Xiao Man pouted. “That’s not the same.”
With the dread of someone walking to an execution ground, she followed Xi Qiao to the First Madam’s main room.
The moment she stepped inside, heavy incense pressed on her lungs.
She dropped to her knees at once, posture strict. “This servant, Xiao Man, pays respects to the First Madam.”
The First Madam sat above with a teacup in hand and did not tell her to rise.
Those sharp eyes measured Xiao Man from head to toe—plain, neat, but not a beauty; hands marked by work, skin not pale enough to be treasured.
So why had she caught Qing Xuan’s eye?
Maybe the old saying was true. One flower, a thousand gazes.
In any case, the Heir Lord and Old Madam had already spoken. As long as she was a woman who could bear heirs for the Lin family, they would offer her up like a bodhisattva.
And to keep Qing Xuan from changing his mind, they needed to push the girl into his reach—immediately.
The First Madam set her cup down with a soft click and finally spoke, slow and controlled. “Qing Xuan injured himself last night. A cut to the head.”
“He needs someone attentive in his rooms. Someone quick, careful, who knows how to serve with sense. Old Madam says you are capable. She says you are meticulous.”
“You will pack your things and go to the Auspicious Cloud Residence at once.”
Xiao Man’s mind went blank, then rang like a struck bell.
Auspicious Cloud Residence.
To take charge of Lin Qing Xuan’s meals, his daily life… his waking and sleeping.
She tasted blood. This was sending a lamb into a tiger’s mouth and calling it mercy.
“First Madam… this servant—”
Her refusal rose, hot and desperate.
The First Madam didn’t lift her eyelids. Her voice simply cooled. “I know you have less than seven months left on your contract.”
“And you should understand: a flexible contract can still be withheld. If your service displeases the master household, your papers do not have to be returned.”
The words slid into Xiao Man’s ears like ice.
Void the contract.
They meant to grip her by the throat.
Cold sweat slicked her palms as her nails bit into the rough cloth at her hip.
Old Madam had approved it.
It sounded like favor. It was a chain.
Xiao Man lifted her eyes and met the First Madam’s gaze—gentle on the surface, absolute underneath. The refusal rolled in her throat again and again until it became a stone.
In this place, the master lets you live, and you live.
The master wants you dead, and you don’t even get to choose the manner.
Humiliation surged up, burning her eyes. She bit down hard enough to taste rust, forcing her rage back into its cage.
She couldn’t fight. Not here.
“Yes,” she heard herself say, voice dry and unfamiliar. “This servant… obeys.”
“Thank you, First Madam, and Old Madam, for your trust. This servant will… serve the eldest young master with all her strength.”
Each word felt like it was being scraped out between her teeth.
She pressed her forehead to the cold tile, hiding the dark churn in her eyes.
“Good.” The First Madam’s satisfaction was quiet, almost bored. “Go. Pack at once. Qing Xuan cannot be kept waiting.”
Xiao Man saluted and stumbled out.
Sunlight stabbed her eyes. Her heart, however, dropped into a pit of ice.
Dong Chun came running with a plate of fresh pastries, saw Xiao Man’s hollow face, and froze. “Sister Xiao Man? What’s wrong? What did the First Madam say? Your face looks awful.”
Xiao Man tried to speak, and nothing came out.
She forced a smile that was uglier than crying. “Nothing… She’s sending me to serve in the eldest young master’s Auspicious Cloud Residence.”
Dong Chun’s eyes widened. Then, inevitably, a trace of envy softened her worry. “Auspicious Cloud Residence? Isn’t that the best assignment? The eldest young master is cold, sure, but the courtyard’s quiet. The tips are generous. It’s not like the other yards with all their mess…”
Best?
Xiao Man’s throat tightened with bitterness.
That wasn’t a quiet courtyard. It was a den.
A place ruled by Lin Qing Xuan—righteous by day, beastly in dreams, and now, apparently, close enough to drag waking life after him.
Serve him. Be responsible for his “waking and sleeping.”
They were roasting her over the fire and demanding she smile.
“Yeah,” she whispered, eyes empty, staring toward the Auspicious Cloud Residence as if it were a mouth waiting to swallow her. “It’s… ‘great.’”
She returned to her cramped room and packed what little she owned with hands gone numb.
A few faded clothes. A small jar of candied garlic her aunt had given her.
And under her pillow—her talisman. No longer warm. Almost cold.
The words of the abbess of the Azure Cloud Temple echoed in her ear: some karma cannot be escaped.
Cannot be escaped?
Xiao Man clenched the talisman until her knuckles went white.
She would escape anyway.
Even if she was chained for now, she would find slack in the chain—enough to carve herself a road.
Humiliation coiled around her heart like poison vine, choking her breath.
But under the pain, something tougher took root. The hard edge a modern office drone learns in desperation, in endless corners with no mercy.
Lin Qing Xuan. First Madam. Old Madam.
You want to use me as a chess piece, a toy, a tool to produce heirs?
Fine.
Today, I, Xiao Man, will swallow it.
But you’d better keep your eyes on me. Don’t give me even a sliver of chance—and don’t let this chess piece turn around and pierce your hand.
She tied her bundle into a knot so tight it looked like rage given form.
When she lifted her head, the clear shine in her eyes had cooled into something sharp and steady, edged with self-mockery.
Serve the Buddhist Scion?
She looked at the empty room and smiled without warmth. “Fine.”
“We’ll see who breaks who first.”