Mo Zi began her secluded life again, just as she had at the Qiu Mansion. She didn’t move about with Bai He and Lu Ju, nor did she follow behind Qiu Sanniang as she went in and out.
Over three days, she spent two and a half days staying in Mozhi Residence. Besides handling tasks Bai He assigned, she whittled wood in the small northwest corner room. What Qiu Sanniang had brought into Prince Jing’s mansion were eighty loads of dowry. What Mo Zi brought were two large chests of tools and wood.
Mozhi Residence wasn’t like the small Qiu family courtyard where miscellaneous chores were done by young maids and servants. She was at least a second-rank maid—here, only the mistress, Bai He, Xiao Yi, and Lu Ju ranked above her. When these four weren’t around, she could even act as a minor mistress.
Almost forgot to mention—the day after Qiu Sanniang married in, after serving tea to her parents-in-law, Princess Jing said that a mansion’s lady should have four senior maids, noting that Qiu Sanniang only had two, which was too few. Thus, with Lu Ju conveniently present, Qiu Sanniang smoothly promoted her one rank, making her now a slight superior to Mo Zi. As for the fourth maid, the old Princess Dowager said she had a good maid there and asked if Qiu Sanniang wanted her. How could Qiu Sanniang refuse? She naturally agreed quickly. However, that senior maid hadn’t arrived yet—probably within the next couple of days.
After returning, Lu Ju sighed, saying Mo Zi should have gone too, then they could have become senior maids together.
Mo Zi had never had such ambitions in the first place. She smiled and said it was a pity, but actually didn’t care at all.
Qiu Sanniang said there was nothing to pity—there weren’t many senior maids in the mansion, and once you went out, everyone knew your face, making it completely inconvenient to get anything done. The implication was that the deeper Mo Zi stayed hidden, the better.
Hearing this, Bai He knew that though her Miss had married into a good family, she had no intention of giving up her money-making schemes.
On this point, Mo Zi and Qiu Sanniang were extremely in sync. No matter how good a husband was, women still needed to be self-reliant. Moreover, that Xiao San was currently quite unreliable. Case in point—three days had passed without him showing his face again. Not that he was with the golden canary, but rather reading in Jingquan Pavilion, allowing no one to disturb him.
That morning, there really had been an old servant sent by the Princess to collect the handkerchief. That Xiao San could be considered responsible—in front of everyone, he tucked the handkerchief into his own bosom, insisting this item should be kept by him personally. No matter how the old servants persuaded, he wouldn’t hand it over, and finally they had to give up.
Truth be told, it made sense. His wife’s, well, that thing—it wouldn’t be appropriate to give to anyone else. If it really needed to be kept, it had to be the husband. Mo Zi thought this at the time.
Qiu Sanniang’s face had turned bright red though. Something that hadn’t even happened, yet it was causing such a commotion first thing in the morning.
Also because of Xiao San’s little performance, the old Princess Dowager and Princess were actually relieved, thinking that although Third Son’s primary wife came from a merchant family which was somewhat embarrassing, at least she made Third Son willing to exert himself. Perhaps this marriage was the right choice after all. Thus, they thought even more highly of Wei Qiongyu, joking that if Third Son truly reformed and Qiu Sanniang could bear a son, they would register Wei Qiongyu in the Xiao family genealogy—that would be the status of a secondary consort.
These words were all told to Mo Zi by Bai He upon her return.
Mo Zi thought this aunt-wife was the real winner. After all, when newlyweds didn’t get along, it was the couple’s own problem. If things turned out unexpectedly well, it was the great merit of the aunt-wife choosing the right person.
On this day, Qiu Sanniang went as usual to attend to her mother-in-law during breakfast, but brought fewer people—she didn’t bring Xiao Yi. In three days, this was the first time not bringing Xiao Yi out, and of course it wasn’t to give the maid a holiday, but had another purpose.
“This is the room where we live?” Xiao Yi was waiting. Waiting for the servants cleaning the courtyard up front to finish, waiting for the young maids to go wash clothes at the well courtyard. In other words, she was waiting for when no one could see.
Mo Zi held a small file in her left hand and a small round stick in her right, with a thin wood shaving clamped in her mouth, too busy to respond verbally, so she could only nod.
“It looks so realistic.” Xiao Yi wanted to pick up a pavilion model but broke it with her own strength, so she ended up just watching obediently.
For children who didn’t like to talk, you absolutely couldn’t maintain sustained silence with them, otherwise the child would become even less talkative. With this thought in mind, Mo Zi put down her work to communicate with Xiao Yi first.
“It’s a model made based on Mozhi Residence, with dimensions scaled down proportionally, but the appearance is identical.” The lingering style of the Tang Dynasty made her hands itch unbearably, so she couldn’t help but pick up her knife.
Xiao Yi hummed in half-understanding, looked out the window, wrinkled her nose, and muttered, “Endless.”
Mo Zi looked too and saw occasional shadows of people in the courtyard. This architectural style featured courtyards that were spacious and refreshing, favoring smooth jade slabs laid over water, large and empty rooms, windows extending from ceiling to floor, remote corridors hung with screens in subdued colors and adorned with bright lanterns. In the closest modern decorating style, it was minimalist. Minimalism within luxury. Very beautiful, very grand, but once a person left their room, there was nowhere to hide.
For others, it was nothing. For them, it was very troublesome.
“Xiao Yi, can we only use the west wall?” In three days, Mo Zi had gone out for half a day. The entire Yonggu Studio had several small gates, but they all led to Huaming Garden and Huixi Garden. To leave Prince Jing’s mansion from Jingfang Garden, there was only the main gate, or going through the side gates of Huaming and Huixi gardens to the other two main streets of Zhiyun Ward.
They had just arrived and hadn’t yet figured out the relationships between the first, second, and third household branches, so naturally couldn’t casually use silver to grease palms. Under the premise of not attracting the Xiao family’s attention, the only way to leave Prince Jing’s mansion was the west wall. Outside the west wall was another household’s garden—whose it was remained unclear, but at least the surname wasn’t Xiao. When Xiao Yi went over, it would be like a little cat passing by a neighbor’s garden fence.
“Miss asked me to scout it out.” Testing the waters to see if they could find an alternative route.
“Xiao Yi, no one’s around now.” Mo Zi was watching for her.
Xiao Yi immediately jumped out the back window of the woodworking room, gathered her breath, stepped onto the rooftop, gathered another breath, and like a bird flew over the wall.
Before Mo Zi could even feel envious, she heard young maid Zhen’er running while reporting, “Sister Mo Zi, Si Niang is waiting outside the gate, wanting to see Third Mistress.”
Though it had only been three days, Qiu Sanniang had already established Mozhi Residence’s rules. She divided Mozhi Residence into front and rear sections, with the lotus pond as the boundary—young maids, servants, and old women couldn’t enter the various rooms in the back without permission. Mo Zi’s woodworking room was by the lotus pond, at the base of the west wall, counted as a rear-end room.
First there was a male master reading in Jingquan Pavilion who couldn’t be disturbed, then a female mistress who didn’t allow ordinary servants into the rear master rooms—no one raised doubts about this. Anyway, wherever people worked, they followed those rules.
Mo Zi walked out, casually pulling the door shut, and asked Zhen’er, “Didn’t you tell Si Niang that Mistress went to pay respects to the Princess?” The term “Miss” was no longer appropriate for outsiders.
“I did. But Si Niang said she absolutely must serve Mistress tea today, and wants to come in and wait.” Zhen’er was only fourteen and had entered the mansion less than a month ago, so she still lacked cleverness in many matters. Case in point—though Qiu Sanniang said not to cross the lotus pond, she brazenly ran across the boundary, her eyes rolling as she looked toward the room behind Mo Zi.
Mo Zi saw this clearly but didn’t say a word about it, only quickened her pace and walked directly into the corridor. “Who knows when Mistress will return? Maybe she’ll have dinner up front—how long would that be to wait?”
“But… but…” Zhen’er said “but” twice in succession.
“But what?” How rare that someone wanted to talk—freedom of speech!
“Si Niang is still a mistress after all. If she wants to come in, how can this servant stop her?” Zhen’er had some trouble keeping up with Mo Zi’s quick steps.
Mo Zi suddenly stopped and turned around.
Zhen’er nearly collided with Mo Zi. Her bean-like eyes looked at her questioningly. “Sister Mo Zi, what’s wrong?”
“Zhen’er, who told you Si Niang is a mistress?” According to what Mo Zi heard from Bai He, Jin Si’s parents were servants whose lives were sold permanently to the Prince’s mansion, so any children born were also property of the Prince’s mansion—what later terminology called household-born children. Jin Si’s father was a steward handling affairs for Xiao Yuanlang, and Jin Si’s mother had originally been a first-rank servant managing the Yonggu Studio courtyard. Because her daughter was taken as Xiao San’s concubine, to avoid suspicion she left Jingfang Garden to work at Huaming Garden.
Although Jin Si had been elevated to concubine status for bearing a son, her deed of servitude remained with the Princess. In other words, as long as someone held her life in their hands for even one day, she couldn’t be considered a mistress. At most, she was a high-level working secretary, relying on bearing children to get a taste of luxury in this enormous family.
Mo Zi, who was similarly working for Qiu Sanniang, felt much better about herself. Moving her hands, moving her brain—preventing dementia in old age.
“Si Niang is the mother of the young master and young miss, and moreover she’s the flesh on Third Master’s heart—if not a mistress, what is she?” Zhen’er’s bean-like eyes blinked, her tone clearly indignant.
Too young after all, unable to keep her composure. Mo Zi smiled faintly. This Zhen’er’s background was highly suspicious.
“If Si Niang is the flesh on Third Master’s heart, then which piece of flesh on Third Master’s body is our Mistress?” Why should women be flesh on a man’s body? Men should be the ones desperately clinging to legs, also tasting what it’s like to be several pieces of meat. Mo Zi snorted, once again dissatisfied with this male-dominated society.
“Well…” Realizing she’d said something wrong, Zhen’er’s face flushed red.
Not a clever child—don’t come be cannon fodder for others. At this moment, Mo Zi sincerely missed Granny An’s granddaughter. That little maid was definitely a flower bud worth cultivating.
Mo Zi was too lazy to argue with this foolish maid and turned to leave. Hearing a few footsteps scraping against the stone slabs as if venting frustration, she shook her head with a light laugh.
Reaching the gate, she saw a rather pretty woman chatting with the gatekeeper of Mozhi Residence.
Her smile was serene and elegant, moth eyebrows lightly traced, faint rouge red, eyes like moons, her figure slender as a willow, her clothing not luxurious—a light muslin spring pleated skirt with two strands of pink beads strung on silk cords at her waist. Judging only by appearance, she didn’t seem scheming at all, but was a woman so delicate you could wring water from her.
Mo Zi furrowed her brow, her gaze slightly lowered, eyes cast down as she smiled. The first lesson Qiu Sanniang taught her—people in this world are mostly cunning; you cannot judge by appearance.
“Miss Mo Zi has arrived.” The gatekeeper, whose husband’s surname was Tao, was an old-timer at Yonggu Studio.
“Mo Zi greets Si Niang.” Mo Zi’s etiquette had never been faulted.
“Si Niang is merely a concubine serving Third Master. Miss is part of Third Mistress’s dowry—there’s no need to bow to Si Niang.” On matters of propriety, Jin Si was also a sensible person.
Oh? This golden canary was quite clever.