Chapter 17
Chapter 17: Report In First
Xiao Man stood before the heavy vermilion gate of the Auspicious Cloud Residence, hugging her frayed bedding roll to her chest, and drew a steadying breath.
In her mind, the first rule of surviving any workplace rang bright and clear: new department, first day—pay respects to the right people.
The number one master of the Auspicious Cloud Residence was, of course, the jade-carved Buddhist Scion himself, Lin Qing Xuan.
But her direct superiors—the ones who ran the courtyard—were Old Chen Tou and his wife, Granny Chen.
Below them was Chen Shi, the page who served Lin Qing Xuan’s daily needs. Everyone called him Stone.
The whole structure was simple enough to sketch on a scrap of paper. There was also an old woman who handled sweeping, but rumor said she didn’t live in the courtyard—she appeared like a ghost at dawn, swept, and vanished into the back grounds again.
Xiao Man found Granny Chen under the eaves, directing young maids as they wiped down flowerpots. She stepped forward and performed a neat curtsey.
“Nanny Chen. This servant Xiao Man comes by order of the First Madam to serve the eldest young master at the Auspicious Cloud Residence. I have come to report to you.”
Granny Chen turned, and her eyes swept over Xiao Man from head to toe and back again, sharp as a scale weighing meat.
After a long moment, she smacked her lips. “Oh. So you’re the maid.” Her gaze flicked over Xiao Man’s limbs as if searching for hidden miracles. “You don’t look like you grew three heads and six arms.”
She leaned closer, voice dropping into that eager, conspiratorial tone only gossip can sharpen. “Old Madam called me over yesterday and warned me again and again—said your room must be right beside the eldest young master’s. There, that one.”
She pointed to the east wing room pressed close to the main house. “Furniture’s all good rosewood. Bedding’s brand-new, fluffed cotton with satin covers. Prepared for you already.” Her eyes narrowed at the battered roll in Xiao Man’s arms. “So why are you still hauling that shabby thing around? Toss it.”
Xiao Man hugged her bedding roll tighter and put on a shy, stubborn smile. “Thank you for the trouble, Nanny Chen. It’s just… this servant is picky about beds, and about old things. I sleep more soundly with this.”
[Do you understand blankie?]
[Without my blankie, I cannot sleep.]
[Modern comfort-object addiction. You ancient people wouldn’t get it.]
Granny Chen wore a look that plainly said you must be ill, but she didn’t argue.
Instead she turned and called to the man trimming branches nearby. “Hey! Old Chen! Come look. This is the maid Old Madam and the First Madam specially sent to serve the eldest young master!”
Old Chen Tou set down his shears and ambled over. His cloudy eyes circled Xiao Man once, and his brows pulled together.
Granny Chen kept talking, unable to help herself. “Old man, you complain all day that the young master doesn’t go near women, that not even a female mosquito can fly into this courtyard. Now they stuff in a fresh young miss—what is this supposed to be?”
Old Chen Tou shot her an annoyed glare. “Shut your mouth. The masters’ business isn’t for you to guess at.” His tone turned brisk. “Settle her in, then take her to the main room to pay respects to the young master. Quickly.”
Granny Chen swallowed her words, sulking. “Fine.”
She waved Xiao Man over. “Come, little maid.”
On the way to the east wing, Granny Chen’s mouth never stopped—an ancient version of a busybody human resources clerk.
“What’s your name again? Xiao Man? Huh. Not bad. How old are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?”
“Anyone left at home? What about your parents? Brothers and sisters?”
“I heard you were from Old Madam’s courtyard. What work did you do? How’s your sewing? Can you handle kitchen work?”
Xiao Man rolled her eyes internally and kept her face obedient. “Replying to Nanny Chen, this servant is called Xiao Man. Seventeen by age count.” She lowered her gaze dutifully. “My parents have passed. I have an aunt in the west of the city. In Old Madam’s courtyard I did sweeping, errands, and mending. My sewing is passable. Kitchen work… I can tend a fire and cook simple porridge and rice.”
Granny Chen answered with vague little noises, belief uncertain.
Then the east wing door opened, and light spilled out.
Xiao Man’s breath caught.
The room was far larger and brighter than the cramped quarters she’d had as a second-rank maid. A rosewood desk sat by the window. A matching wardrobe and dressing table lined the wall, plain but polished until they gleamed.
The canopy bed was the most striking—gauze curtains, brand-new brocade bedding, lake-blue satin glowing softly in the morning light.
On the small table by the bed lay several sets of new clothes, neatly folded: pale yellow, bright green, light pink—colors so fresh they almost hurt.
Xiao Man’s mind immediately started screaming.
[Uniforms.]
[Carefully chosen uniforms.]
[This is not service. This is bait.]
Old Madam and the First Madam—your intentions could not be more obvious if you hung them on a banner.
She swallowed her thoughts and forced a grateful smile. “This room is wonderful. Thank you for the trouble, Nanny Chen.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank the masters,” Granny Chen said, waving a hand. Her eyes slid toward the new outfits again. “Tidy yourself up. Put on something bright. The young master likes things clean and fresh.” She nodded toward the main house. “Then go pay respects. Rules can’t be thrown out. First day matters.”
Xiao Man wanted to refuse on principle alone, but principles didn’t feed you here.
She set her old bedding roll stubbornly at the foot of the bed—she would not replace it.
She straightened her collar and smoothed her hair, making sure she looked neat. As for the pale yellow and bright green new clothes?
Not a chance.
This half-worn blue shirt was plain, modest, and safe. Safe was everything.
With her face arranged into the gentlest, most obedient smile she could manufacture, she walked to the main house door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
She tapped three times, soft and careful.
A brief silence answered.
Then a voice came through, clear as cold spring water, stripped of emotion.
“Come in.”