Chapter 81
Chapter 81: To Leave or Stay
The small kitchen of the Auspicious Cloud Residence was saturated with sweetness, the scent so thick it felt almost tangible.
Everyone gathered around the little table by the stove, each holding a bowl of glossy almond pudding, steam curling up in pale threads.
Beside the bowls lay golden qiaoguo fresh from the oil. They ate until their faces opened into smiles, hands shiny with grease, laughter spilling easy.
Old Madam’s portion had been arranged especially: osmanthus blossoms dotted the rim, bright as little suns.
“Old Madam’s qiaoguo doesn’t have pickled plums,” Little Man said, careful and decisive. “I was afraid the sour would bother her teeth.”
Then she tipped her chin toward Dong Chun and gave instructions like a commander.
“Dong Chun, remember—Old Madam can only have half a piece at most. It’s oily. After half an hour, bring her a hawthorn pill to help her digest.”
Dong Chun’s cheeks were stuffed like a small hamster. She answered through a mouthful, “Got it!”
Even as she spoke, her hands moved on their own. She grabbed a big handful of qiaoguo and shoved them into her pocket with shameless speed.
“Sister Xiu He and the others are still working. They haven’t tasted anything. I have to bring them more!”
Granny Chen, Old Chen Tou, and Stone ate with red, happy faces.
Granny Chen scooped a spoonful of pudding, eyes crinkling with joy. “Heavens, Miss Little Man—your skill! Even an imperial chef couldn’t beat this. It’s so smooth my tongue is melting!”
Little Man pressed her lips together, smiling softly without showing teeth.
Then she ladled another bowl. She dotted it with osmanthus, selected two of the prettiest twin-fish qiaoguo, and arranged them neatly on a small plate. With the lacquer tray balanced steady in her hands, she carried it toward the study.
Inside, Lin Qing Xuan stood by the window, his figure stretched long by the setting sun.
At the sound of the door, he turned—and when he saw Little Man, warmth spread through his usually cool gaze. He moved as if to meet her.
“Eldest Young Master, sit down,” she said quickly, stepping faster herself. She set the tray on the desk before he could take it.
She put on a serious face, all business. “These qiaoguo run hot. Just taste them. Don’t eat too much.”
Lin Qing Xuan didn’t look at the pastries. His eyes went straight to her fingertip—still faintly red.
“Does it still hurt?” he asked, voice lower than usual.
“I soaked it in cold water. It’s fine.” She held out her hand carelessly, palm open for him to see.
Lin Qing Xuan caught her wrist.
His thumb was warm, slightly rough with thin calluses. He rubbed the small burned patch with a gentleness that felt almost unreasonable.
“Do less of this in the future,” he said quietly. “If you hurt your hands… how will you copy scriptures?”
Little Man’s polite smile froze as if it had been carved in place.
Copy scriptures.
Again. Copy scriptures.
She yanked her hand back so sharply that even Lin Qing Xuan blinked, caught off guard.
Without another word, she turned and walked out.
“Where are you going?” he called, instinctive.
“Stone needs to deliver almond pudding to the three cousin misses!” Her voice came from the doorway, stiff as a board, and she didn’t look back. “Third Miss loves sweets the most. If her share is forgotten, she’ll make such a fuss I’ll end up cooking another whole pot!”
High on the wall outside, Tuan Tuan watched the scene through narrowed golden eyes.
Its pupils thinned into a dangerous line.
A low rumble rolled in its throat. With a powerful kick, it leapt toward the wall near the main gate, tail brushing past weeds as if it were only passing.
“Meow—”
The long, wary cry cut clean through the dusk.
Tuan Tuan had to find the source of that dangerous scent—the one that made its fur want to explode.
The Green Reed Courtyard.
Dong Chun flew back to her little room with a bundle of food like a bird carrying loot.
“Sisters! Time to eat! Qiaoguo and almond pudding made by Miss Little Man herself!”
The young maids inside crowded around immediately.
Dong Chun spread the oiled paper wide and began handing out qiaoguo. “Try it! Miss Little Man came up with a new way—eat it with pickled plums. It cuts grease and wakes your appetite. It’s perfect!”
Xiu He took a piece, bit down—and her eyes lit.
“Crispy. Fragrant. Incredible.”
Then she remembered something and pointed. “I have a jar of rose jam from last year. I’ll go get it. With this, it’ll be even better.”
The rose jam arrived, and the tiny room filled with happy noise—crisp pastry, sweet pudding, floral jam, tangy plum, all braided into a small, fierce kind of joy.
Xiu He was the first to pull them back to reality. She brushed crumbs from her hands and cleared her throat.
“Enough. Stop. Don’t even think about eating Old Madam’s portion.”
“But the Heir Lord is in Old Madam’s room talking right now,” a maid said, licking rose jam from her fingertip. “Is it convenient to go in?”
“Are you filthy?” Xiu He snapped, poking her forehead. “We still have to serve tea later. Clean your hands.”
She began arranging things briskly. “There’s extra pudding. Pour a fresh bowl for the Heir Lord too, let him taste it. As for qiaoguo—Old Madam can’t eat much. Put one each on small plates. Add a pickled plum for the Heir Lord’s. Old Madam doesn’t eat sour, so leave hers plain. I’ll deliver it myself.”
“Sister Xiu He, you’re so thoughtful!”
Xiu He cut them a look and snorted. “You greedy little ghosts. You just don’t want me gone too long. You’re afraid the crumbs will be gone by the time I come back, aren’t you?”
The maids burst into guilty laughter.
Old Madam’s main room was lit with refined sandalwood incense.
Xiu He entered quietly and set the tray on the kang table with careful hands. She leaned to Old Madam’s ear and spoke in a low, eager whisper.
“Old Madam, Miss Little Man just made these. Almond pudding to soothe the throat, and qiaoguo—rare to have in the dead of winter.”
Old Madam had been speaking with her son, Lin De Fang. At the scent, she brightened at once.
“Good. This old servant was getting hungry.”
She trusted Miss Little Man’s food.
“The other portion is for the Heir Lord to taste,” Xiu He added, then turned to Lin De Fang and bowed.
Old Madam glanced sideways at her son, meaning heavy in her eyes. “The little maid in Qing Xuan’s place made this?”
Lin De Fang’s interest sparked immediately. “Oh? Bring it here. Let me see.”
He set down his teacup and leaned forward. “I still haven’t properly met that maid in Qing Xuan’s courtyard. I might as well taste her skill first.”
The pudding had cooled to just the right warmth—gentle on the mouth.
Lin De Fang took a spoonful. Rich almond fragrance spread across his tongue, sweet without cloying, smooth down his throat, leaving only clean comfort behind.
“Mm.” He nodded in approval. “Qing Xuan is lucky. This maid’s craft is truly good.”
Then his tone changed. He lowered his voice and looked at Old Madam.
“But Mother… did their ‘good thing’ happen or not?”
Old Madam lifted her bowl and took a slow sip before answering.
Truth was, she wasn’t sure either.
“Last time, that young lady from the Zheng Family used filthy tricks and fed him that medicine… I don’t know whether it worked in the end.”
“Mother.” Lin De Fang’s brows drew tight. His mind stayed snagged on the same thorn. “If it did… then Qing Xuan’s love trial—does that mean he’s finally passed it?”
Old Madam shook her head, worry softening her gaze.
No one could say.
Xiu He, sensing the weight, quickly broke a qiaoguo into smaller pieces and offered them on a bamboo pick, trying to steer the room away from the dark edge of the topic.
Old Madam tasted a piece and brightened.
“So crispy. The fragrance lingers.”
She looked at the plate, wanting more. “Any more? Save a few pieces for me. Tomorrow morning I’ll eat them with sheep-milk porridge.”
“This servant saved two pieces for you,” Xiu He answered with a respectful smile.
“Only two?” Old Madam’s eyes widened. Her voice sharpened into mock anger. “You little hussies—did you steal-eat again?”
“Old Madam, that’s truly unfair,” Xiu He said quickly. “Miss Little Man specifically warned us. These are oily. You absolutely cannot eat too much, or you’ll get heat inside. She even told me that after half an hour, I should bring you a big hawthorn pill to cut the grease.”
“Hmph.” Old Madam’s anger softened into satisfaction. “Miss Little Man is the careful one.”
She set her bowl down, gaze turning distant as it slid toward Lin De Fang.
“I’m at ease letting her serve Qing Xuan. It’s just…”
She paused, letting the words hang heavy.
“Her indenture contract is about to expire. When that day comes, if she insists on leaving, I’d like to see which of you can stop her.”
Lin De Fang’s hand tightened around the spoon until his knuckles went white.
If she left, what would Qing Xuan do?
If they kept her, what excuse could they possibly use?
To let her go, or not to let her go.
It was a deadly problem.