Chapter 39
Chapter 39: The Mandarin-Duck Pillows Rock the Manor
With Old Madam’s order and a waist token in hand, Xiu He barreled into the servant quarters and shoved the token into Dong Chun’s palms.
“Go! The storeroom! Fetch the mandarin-duck pillows—send them to the Auspicious Cloud Residence. For Xiao Man.”
Xiu He had been the first to see the Eldest Grandson Young Master carrying Xiao Man in his arms. She’d caught that joy fair and square, and she was practically glowing.
Dong Chun took the order and shot off, feet stirring wind, vanishing into the storeroom like smoke.
Auntie Zhang was bent over the ledger inside, abacus beads clicking sharply.
Dong Chun flung the curtain aside and rushed in, calling out as if the building were on fire.
“Auntie Zhang! Old Madam says to fetch the mandarin-duck pillows and send them to the Auspicious Cloud Residence!”
Auntie Zhang didn’t even lift her head. Her brush kept moving, neat and merciless.
“Which courtyard wants them?”
Dong Chun planted her hands on her hips, catching her breath.
“The Auspicious Cloud Residence. For the Eldest Grandson Young Master and Xiao Man.”
The brush in Auntie Zhang’s fingers dropped straight onto the ledger.
Ink bled outward in a dark, ugly bloom.
She froze as if someone had pressed an acupoint. Then, stiffly, she raised her head.
“…Where did you say? For who?”
Dong Chun repeated it with bright, innocent cheer, like she hadn’t just struck lightning.
“The Auspicious Cloud Residence—the Eldest Grandson Young Master and Xiao Man.”
Auntie Zhang sucked in a breath so hard it caught in her throat.
In her mind, images detonated one after another.
First Madam furiously selling off Little Peach.
The Eldest Grandson Young Master riding back like a storm.
Old Madam personally asking about Xiao Man’s injuries—Old Madam, of all people.
And now… now even newly made mandarin-duck pillows were being sent over?
This wasn’t gossip anymore.
This was a wedding bed being built on the spot.
Hands trembling, Auntie Zhang dug deep into the cabinet and hauled out a pair of mandarin-duck pillows wrapped in red silk. The stitching was fine and tight—new, top-quality work.
She thrust them at Dong Chun, still shaking, and forced herself to ask again.
“You’re sure? You didn’t mishear?”
Dong Chun nodded so hard her hair almost came loose.
“Old Madam said it herself! No mistake!”
Auntie Zhang watched her run off with the pillows, and only one thought remained, heavy as stone.
The Lin manor is changing skies.
The moment Dong Chun disappeared, Auntie Zhang slammed the storeroom door and locked it with a hard clack. Then she hiked up her skirts and hurried off to gather her old sisters.
Several heads pressed together. Auntie Zhang lowered her voice, excitement and terror fighting for space on her face.
“Something huge is happening. Our Eldest Grandson Young Master… might be returning to secular life.”
The group erupted.
“What?!”
Auntie Zhang leaned in even closer, voice dropping into a conspirator’s whisper.
“Old Madam has bestowed mandarin-duck pillows. That maid, Xiao Man—she’s about to fly up a branch and turn into a phoenix.”
An older maid scoffed, half in denial.
“But she’s just a maid.”
“So what if she’s a maid!” Auntie Zhang slapped her thigh, words spilling fast. “Have you ever seen a maid that our Buddhist Scion personally cares for?”
“Have you ever seen a maid who makes First Madam swallow her anger and only dare sell someone else to vent it?”
“And have you ever seen a maid who gets mandarin-duck pillows bestowed by Old Madam herself?”
Three questions. Three blows.
No one had an answer.
Auntie Zhang’s gaze swept over them, sharp as a blade.
“Think hard. Did any of you ever offend that maid? If you did, go apologize while you still have legs to walk with.”
That warning hit the group like a rock dropped into water.
Several old maids turned white on the spot.
They’d gossiped plenty—called Xiao Man a vixen, said she seduced the masters, said she wasn’t decent.
Now their tongues felt like knives left at their own throats.
News sprouted wings. Before half a day passed, it seeped into every corner of the Lin manor.
Outside the Auspicious Cloud Residence, the path suddenly became lively.
Too lively.
Maids and older servants appeared one after another, each claiming to be “just passing by,” each carrying something—fresh pastries, newly picked fruit, small gifts that piled up like offerings.
And each one wore the same careful smile.
“We heard Miss Xiao Man was injured, so we came to check on you.”
Their eyes, though, were hooked. They kept peering into the room, dying to see what sort of future “Young Madam” could drag an otherworldly Buddhist Scion down into mortal dust.
Chun Yan was among them.
She’d once been a third-rank maid in Old Madam’s courtyard. Back when Xiao Man worked alongside her, Chun Yan had leaned on seniority and made her life difficult.
When Xiao Man was promoted, Chun Yan had mocked her in front of everyone.
Now, hearing Xiao Man might rise overnight and become one of the masters, Chun Yan’s soul nearly fled her body.
What if Xiao Man held a grudge?
Would Chun Yan end up like Little Peach—sold clean out of the manor in a single stroke?
Gritting her teeth, she spent half a month of wages to have Gatekeeper Little Dun Zi buy the most expensive basket of fruit outside the manor. Then she dragged Dong Chun along as a shield of courage.
They called it “a visit.”
It looked an awful lot like tribute.
“Sister Xiao Man.” Chun Yan’s smile was so careful it hurt. She set the huge basket on the table with both hands. “We heard you were injured, so we came to see you.”
Xiao Man lay propped on the bed, blinking at the sudden warmth, then at the mountain of gifts.
A giant question mark practically rose over her head.
“…Are you here to visit the sick,” she asked, “or to present offerings?”
Dong Chun snorted with laughter.
Chun Yan’s smile wobbled into something worse than crying. “Sister, you’re joking. We’re only concerned…”
Xiao Man narrowed her eyes. Something about this felt deeply wrong.
Then a faint stir rose outside the door.
Lin Qing Xuan returned.
He was still in plain white monk’s robes, brows and eyes cold as snow, untouched by worldly smoke. But the moment his gaze swept over the crowded room, the air pressure dropped like a storm rolling in.
The chatter died instantly. Heads bowed. No one dared breathe.
“The Eldest Grandson Young Master…”
Lin Qing Xuan’s voice held no warmth at all.
“Xiao Man needs quiet rest. Unnecessary people—leave.”
To the visitors, it was mercy.
They fled at once, bowing as they backed out, disappearing faster than rabbits.
Chun Yan ran first, desperate to keep her face from being remembered.
Only after the room emptied did Xiao Man finally exhale.
“What is wrong with them?” she muttered. “They’re acting like they swallowed the wrong medicine—so enthusiastic it’s terrifying…”
Lin Qing Xuan glanced at her.
“They’re afraid you’ll settle accounts later.”
Xiao Man blinked. “Huh?”
The corner of his mouth lifted—barely there, but unmistakable.
“The whole manor believes you’re going to be my concubine.”
Xiao Man froze.
Then she turned her head slowly and stared at the blinding red pair of mandarin-duck pillows on her bedside.
Her mind went blank with a loud, violent buzz.
Now she understood.
Old Madam was trying to bury her alive.