Yan Qing recognized it as the voice of Yin Minghui’s maid, Xue Tao.

She exchanged a glance with Shi Ting. He frowned. “She was already here during the day. Why is she buzzing around like a fly?”

The unwanted visitor had managed to make this entire spread of fine food taste flat and dull.

“Because you weren’t here during the day — she calculated that you’d be home in the evening.” Yan Qing blinked. “Dear husband, you really are irresistibly charming. It makes one quite envious.”

Shi Ting was caught between laughter and exasperation, and reached over to give her face a gentle pinch. “Why does that sound a little sour?”

Yan Qing gave a huff and stood up to go outside.

By then, Yin Minghui had already entered with her maid. She hadn’t expected to run straight into Yan Qing, and quickly explained, “I could see the lights on inside and knew you’d be in.”

She gave a meaningful look to the maid at her side. The maid promptly held out a food hamper. “This is a steamed milk custard and auspicious New Year cake that our Miss made herself. She wanted to bring some for the Seventh Young Mistress to try. Our Miss stood in the kitchen for a full four hours just to make this steamed custard.”

The steamed milk custard was made with milk and almonds — but Yin Minghui had not a trace of milk or almond scent on her. Claiming this custard was made by her own hands was something that could only fool someone very simple-minded.

“What a lovely aroma.” Yin Minghui peered into the room. “Are you and Seventh Young Master in the middle of dinner, Young Mistress?”

“Yes.” Yan Qing answered. “Shi Ting just got back.”

“As it happens, I haven’t eaten yet either. I wonder if I might be fortunate enough to dine with you?”

Murong, standing nearby, nearly dropped her jaw.

If shamelessness were a title, this Miss Yin would deserve it without contest. What sort of guest asks, of their own accord, to stay for a meal? The proper etiquette was for the host to invite the guest, and the guest to only reluctantly agree. And besides — this was clearly an intimate dinner for a husband and wife. Any reasonable person would decline, since no one wants to be a third wheel.

“Simple food and plain fare — if Miss Yin doesn’t mind, you’re welcome to join us.”

“Then I must thank the Seventh Young Mistress.”

Yin Minghui followed Yan Qing inside with evident delight. The moment she saw Shi Ting seated at the table, waiting for Yan Qing, her face flushed crimson.

Even the words that came out of her mouth stumbled. “S-Seventh Young Master is here too?”

At her obvious feigned surprise, Yan Qing inwardly scoffed. This Yin Minghui was truly… words failed to describe her.

Shi Ting gave her a cool nod — polite but distant. “Miss Yin.”

Yin Minghui said, “Yan Qing just invited me to join you for dinner. I was a little embarrassed to impose — I do hope Seventh Young Master will forgive the intrusion.”

Yan Qing: “……”

Shi Ting glanced toward Yan Qing. “It seems there aren’t any extra bowls and chopsticks.”

This time it was Yin Minghui who was taken aback. She blinked, and it took her a moment to register his meaning. “Seventh Young Master must be joking — how could such a large courtyard only have two sets of bowls and chopsticks?”

“Miss Yin may not know, but I’m accustomed to dining alone with my wife. No one else usually comes here, so over time, the only usable bowls and chopsticks have naturally come to be just the two of ours.” He said evenly. “As for the servants, there are certainly enough sets. If Miss Yin doesn’t mind, I’ll have someone fetch some.”

Any normal person who heard those words would have been burning with shame and gotten up to leave immediately. But Yin Minghui’s response left Yan Qing speechless.

“What does it matter? Servants are people too. I can see the two maids here are perfectly clean.” Yin Minghui said with a smile. “Mingling with those of lower station, sharing in their hardships.”

Yan Qing: “……”

Was that really how that expression was meant to be used?

“Miss, we brought our own bowls and chopsticks.” Xue Tao reminded her from the side. “There’s a set right here in the food hamper.”

Yan Qing barely suppressed a laugh. So Yin Minghui had come with a delivery of treats — and fully intended to enjoy them together with the household. She had even brought her own bowls and chopsticks.

“I almost forgot.” Yin Minghui said cheerfully. “Go ahead and take them out.”

Since the woman had brought her own tableware, Yan Qing had nothing more to say. She sneaked a glance at Shi Ting, and for the first time, she could see something that resembled a dark stormcloud on Director Shi’s face.

And no wonder — Yan Qing had also never encountered anyone who showed up for a meal with their own set of dishes.

“I have something I need to take care of.” Shi Ting stood up. “Jing Zhi, go and call Jin Shan for me. I have something to tell him.”

Jing Zhi, who had been standing to one side, heard this and flew out of the room at once.

Seeing Shi Ting about to leave, Yin Minghui opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words, and could only watch his departure with a face full of disappointment.

“Miss Yin.” Yan Qing called out to her. “Shi Ting is always like this — stepping away mid-meal when something comes up. Please don’t take it personally.”

Yin Minghui forced out a dry laugh. “It’s quite all right. Men should put their careers first. Someone like Seventh Young Master is a person destined for great things.”

“Please, eat, Miss Yin.”

Yin Minghui gave Yan Qing a nod. “Then I won’t stand on ceremony.”

But when she picked up her chopsticks, she furrowed her brow at the food on the table.

“Young Mistress, surely the Shi Mansion has dedicated cooks? These dishes are a little too light.” Yin Minghui’s chopsticks hovered over several of the plates, as if none of them suited her palate.

Murong, standing nearby, said, “These dishes are all favorites of the Seventh Young Master’s, and they were made personally by the Young Mistress.”

Yin Minghui looked surprised. “Seventh Young Master eats this lightly? Can he be getting adequate nutrition?”

Yan Qing: “……”

“At his age, he really should be eating more meat. Sea cucumber and shark fin every day are a must, and bone broth should be simmered for at least six hours for proper nourishment.” Yin Minghui launched into an enthusiastic lecture on food, utterly unaware that Yan Qing and her maids were watching her with the expressions reserved for someone who has thoroughly baffled them.

Even Yan Qing, in the privacy of her own thoughts, found herself resorting to a rather modern expression: What an absolute, world-class blockhead.

“Miss Yin.” Jing Zhi had finally heard enough. “Rich and tonifying food may well be beneficial, but it isn’t suited to everyone. Seventh Young Master’s taste naturally runs toward lighter fare, and above all, he particularly enjoys the meals prepared by our Young Mistress. Even plain congee and simple side dishes will make him eat with great appetite.”

Yin Minghui’s maid Xue Tao took offense on her mistress’s behalf. “Our Miss meant no harm. She only felt that Seventh Young Master shouldn’t be eating so lightly — with such a demanding daily schedule, if his nutrition falls short, it will affect his health.”

Yan Qing: “……”

Like master, like servant, she supposed. This maid of Yin Minghui’s was equally clueless.

What Shi Ting ate each day, whether his meals were rich or plain — what business was that of theirs?

Even with Yan Qing’s considerable self-possession, she felt a silent string of uncharitable thoughts rise within her. There truly was every sort of person under the sun.

Yan Qing smiled. “Miss Yin isn’t entirely wrong. Jing Zhi, since these dishes don’t suit Miss Yin’s palate, go to the main kitchen and see whether there’s anything good to bring over.”

Jing Zhi felt indignant inside, but still said “yes,” let out a muffled huff, and went off.

Before long, Jing Zhi had returned from the kitchen with a serving of red-braised lamb bones, soft slow-cooked beef tendons, and a ginseng chicken soup.

Seeing the new dishes arranged on the table, Yin Minghui said happily, “Now this is the kind of food a wealthy household ought to have.”

Yan Qing’s lips twitched, though she said nothing, and politely gestured for her guest to help herself. “Please, Miss Yin.”

After finishing her meal at Yan Qing’s table, Yin Minghui then proposed a game of chess.

Yan Qing said, “I don’t know how to play chess.”

“Surely the Young Mistress is from a distinguished family — how can you not know chess?” Yin Minghui looked genuinely surprised.

“I have no interest in it.”

Yin Minghui frowned. “Then what instrument does the Young Mistress play?”

“None at all.” Yan Qing answered truthfully.

She vaguely recalled learning violin as a child — but after a few days she was already fed up, and then her second uncle had sent her to learn piano, which she also abandoned before long by picking up her school bag and heading straight home.

Her second uncle had eventually concluded that she had no interest in musical instruments, only in his scalpel, and had helplessly given up on cultivating any musical talent in her.

Yet in this era, women from respectable families were expected to know at least the basic arts — lute, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Even if they were not accomplished, they had to study them. It was a matter of face.

Yin Minghui exclaimed in surprise, “Then surely the Young Mistress’s calligraphy must be excellent?”

“Passable. I learned it from Shi Ting, actually.” Yan Qing smiled.

Yin Minghui’s mouth fell open wide enough to fit an egg. “Then what is the Young Mistress skilled at? What outstanding talent does she have?”

“None, particularly.”

Yin Minghui was about to say more when Jing Zhi spoke up from the side. “Our Miss writes poetry. Even Master Jiang, the renowned man of letters, praised Miss’s poetry as works that would endure for the ages.”

Yan Qing: “……”

Well. Those poems weren’t hers, technically. But her maid was trying to win her some credit — she’d let her have this one.

“I know.” Xue Tao seemed to recall something. “Both ‘Farewell to Cambridge’ and ‘Among Men in April’ were written by the Seventh Young Mistress. I can recite them both.”

Xue Tao then launched into a loud, smooth recitation — until a single cough from Yin Minghui startled her into silence, and she quickly retreated to one side.

“I wonder whether Miss Yin composes poetry?” Jing Zhi asked with feigned curiosity. “A young woman from such a distinguished family as Miss Yin’s must be thoroughly accomplished in the arts — why not compose a poem right here on the spot and let us humble servants broaden our horizons?”

Yin Minghui’s face went a deep and furious red. She could play chess, and she could play the piano — but only barely. Mastery was still a distant dream. Compared to Yan Qing, who had already established a certain name for herself in literary circles, whatever superficial skills she possessed really weren’t worth talking up.

“The hour is getting late — I should be heading back.” Yin Minghui swiftly changed the subject.

“I’ll see you out.”

At the doorway, Yin Minghui warmly took hold of Yan Qing’s hand, her eyes and brows full of genuine-seeming friendliness. “Seventh Young Mistress, I feel as though we were destined to meet. I wonder if I might be allowed to come and find you often — you’re the most interesting person in this whole Shi Mansion.”

Destined to meet?

Yan Qing felt her head ache. The person she had fallen for at first sight was Shi Ting.