After seeing off that mother-in-law and her daughters-in-law, it was already the first quarter of the hour of Shen. Minglan had no desire for another nap. She went back to her room, changed her clothes, and sat down with a warm bowl of fresh dumpling soup — which Xiaotao had just brought — picking up the newly arrived servant dossiers and leafing through them slowly.
“I notice Madam does seem rather fond of these soupy, watery sorts of food,” Caihuan remarked from where she and Xiaotao had gone to tidy the side room, smiling. “Lucky you know how to make it.”
Xiaotao bent down to gather up the loose items of clothing that had been aired and dried that noon, folding them one by one: “If you’re talking about this sort of thing, the one who does it best is still Nanny Qiu from our old household. Her dumpling dough was springy and had real bite to it. I’ve only picked up the surface of her skill.”
“I still have so much to learn.” Caihuan took up the iron — freshly loaded with charcoal — and brought it over. “Shall I press things here?”
“No — let’s go out to do it.” Xiaotao lowered her voice and, gathering up the entire armload of clothes, tip-toed out to the antechamber before setting them down.
It was only then that Caihuan said: “We’ve both come out here and left Madam alone in there — isn’t that not quite right?”
Xiaotao took up a white silk brocade under-robe and spread it smooth: “That’s Madam’s preference. Unless there are guests present, when she is alone she doesn’t like having people walking back and forth in the room.”
Caihuan committed this to memory, then asked: “So if she wants tea or something, what then?”
Xiaotao began pressing the garment with the iron as she said: “That’s why, at all times, one of us stays in the next room. If she needs anything she’ll call for us. Let’s finish pressing these quickly and get back to the side room.” She paused to glance at Caihuan. “The master — if he wants something, what does that have to do with us?”
Caihuan was rebuffed and laughed awkwardly: “That’s true enough — we are Madam’s maids first, and only then members of the household.”
Toward evening, without warning, dark clouds rolled in from nowhere, blotting out half the sky. A crack of thunder boomed from a distance, and then rain came down all at once — fat, heavy drops, like a bucket overturned, soaking the ground in an instant.
Watching the rain pouring outside, Minglan turned her head and patted Xiaotao on the shoulder with repeated praise: “Lucky you brought in the clothes after the noon meal. Truly, you predicted this with great foresight.” Xiaotao, unacquainted with modesty, actually nodded and said: “Servant thinks Madam is right.”
Minglan patiently instructed her: “Wrong. You’re supposed to say ‘I learned it all from you’ — that’s the correct response.”
Xiaotao received this guidance graciously and, demonstrating the principle of applying one lesson broadly, said: “I learned it all from Madam. More importantly, it was Madam’s foresight that was great!”
Minglan nodded in beaming approval.
“So did you foresee that your husband would get rained on?”
A man’s teasing voice sounded from the doorway. Mistress and maid both turned at once. There stood Gu Tingye, soaked through to the skin, the scarlet cloud-brocade robe embroidered with a qilin insignia — his full official court attire — still dripping, leaving a spreading wet patch on the floor.
Minglan was startled. She looked the dripping man up and down, then said in some surprise: “Oh — I foresaw it. I had Xiao Shun bring an umbrella for you this morning.”
Gu Tingye’s face had gone half-dark. He stared at her for a long moment before pressing out, with difficulty: “…I rode on horseback to court.”
Minglan blinked. After a full rotation of thought, it came to her — riding a horse was not like riding a bicycle; it was not practical to hold the reins with one hand and an umbrella with the other. She flushed with embarrassment, let out a soft little “oh,” and then offered helpfully: “Perhaps… next time, you could take a sedan chair instead? Wind and rain — nothing to worry about then.”
Gu Tingye listened. The remaining half of his face went dark as well.
He said no more. He strode into the inner room. Minglan called out at once: “Xiaotao, go call Xia He—” Gu Tingye, his face thunderous, turned back around, reached out, and pulled Minglan by the arm. “You mean to say you can’t even attend to your own husband? Don’t bother calling anyone — get yourself in here!” And with that he pulled Minglan through into the inner room.
Minglan opened her mouth but found nothing to say, and quickly called back over her shoulder: “Xiaotao — prepare the hot bath, and bring the ginger soup!”
Once inside, Gu Tingye spread his arms wide behind the dressing screen and waited. Minglan rubbed her nose, lowered her head, and went to undo his buttons. She peeled away the soaked layers of clothing, revealing a strong and upright physique beneath. She passed him the long robe she had ready, and he took it and went into the bathing room. Water sounds splashed. Before long he emerged in a clean snow-white silk inner robe, seating himself with great composure on the edge of the bed, long fingers resting over his knees, still as a mountain, saying nothing, and regarding Minglan with a cold, silent eye.
Minglan had no idea what she had done wrong, but her instinct for self-preservation gradually awakened. She picked up a dry cloth and went over to dutifully dry his thick, damp black hair. Gu Tingye noticed the clean scent drifting from her — delicate, like orchid and musk, just a clear simple freshness. He drew her closer, tucking his slightly damp cheek against her. A warmth settled over his heart.
“Don’t be upset anymore.” Minglan said softly, patting gently through the dry cloth at his hair.
Gu Tingye pulled Minglan close and drew her down onto his knee, his strong arm encircling her. He looked at her with dark, deep eyes: “Do you know why I’m displeased?”
Minglan tested the ground carefully: “I should have sent a covered carriage to come pick you up, shouldn’t I.”
Gu Tingye looked into Minglan’s uncertain eyes. He let out a barely perceptible sigh: “Forget it. A few drops of rain won’t kill a person. How were things today? Is everything in the household well?”
The dangerous topic was finished. Minglan let out a great breath of relief, and quickly took up a sheaf of papers from the desk beside her, holding them out before Gu Tingye: “Look — is this a good approach? Aren’t I clever?”
Gu Tingye flipped through a few pages and laughed despite himself: “You certainly have a way of thinking.” He looked up at her with no small degree of amusement.
Minglan knew perfectly well he was inwardly laughing at her, and pressed her lips together: “I don’t like putting people to use before I know their backgrounds.”
Gu Tingye leafed casually through the top few sheets, smiling: “Heh, who knew our household had such hidden depths — even former purchasing managers and craftsmen from the Lingguo Duke’s estate? Oh, these few cooks are somewhat beneath standard — all second-tier kitchen workers… And Nanny Lai’s sons have all had their bondservant contracts paid off already? Nanny Hua seems to have done progressively worse as time went on. The Fourth Aunt is quite generous — she sent the entire Tian household over here…”
After a few more sheets, Gu Tingye’s expression gradually lost its amusement. He could not help but acknowledge that Minglan’s approach had a sharp precision to it. Even a simple personal history could reflect much: origins and family background, records of reward and punishment, where their relatives were now, and what duties they had held year by year — a few terse lines, clean and direct, and yet layered with implication. Before and behind the surface of things, a great deal came to light.
“This method is good!” He said shortly, and a hard glint passed through his eyes. “The household must be properly cleaned up. Anyone with poor conduct, light-fingered habits, or a loose mouth — punish them, beat them, or sell them off, as you see fit. If anyone causes trouble, send them all to me! I’ll see who is bold enough to try to scheme against my household!”
Minglan heard the edge in his voice, and understood that today’s court session had likely held some turbulence. But it was not her place to press further, so she only nodded continuously and asked quietly: “Is someone… trying to scheme against you?” Better to be mentally prepared.
Gu Tingye frowned. He was mildly displeased by the last word Minglan had used, and sat with a dark expression: “If one is not careful enough, a word said the night before is already making its rounds by morning. There is much on the outside right now — the last thing I need is fire from within.”
Minglan watched him with some curiosity. What she had actually gained most from today was not information about these servants, but rather an insight into this man’s patterns of behavior. Quite fascinating, honestly.
Since a few days ago, Minglan had sensed that the internal management of the Gu household had no real order to it — personnel in disarray, servants slack, no proper system of control. After her inquiry today, she came to understand that the problem lay less with the servants than with Gu Tingye himself.
In the year or more since he had established the household, he had apparently never bothered to attend to household affairs at all. He simply installed a few stewards to handle daily operations, then transferred a team of his own soldiers from the military barracks to serve as strict gatekeepers — and proceeded to treat the entire household staff as suspects under guard. As long as no one made mistakes, stirred up trouble, or behaved suspiciously, he showed no concern whatsoever for what they ate, what they wore, or what quality of life they led.
He had bolted several heavy padlocks to the storeroom doors; inside, imperial gifts stood piled in mountains and jewelry filled boxes to the brim, and yet he could not be bothered to set any of it out; the estate’s furnishings were as sparse and forlorn as a struggling household’s. He kept Counselor Gongsun’s small courtyard under extremely tight watch — with people on guard night and day at the gate, to a degree that made visiting the outer study feel harder than going in to visit a prisoner. Coming and going required two identity checks.
Minglan thought it over at length and was suddenly reminded of Chang Ge’er.
Chang Ge’er’s carefulness seemed to come naturally — without needing any prompting, the right degree of caution simply appeared in everything he did. Yanghao had been at his side for over ten years, intimately familiar with all his ways; yet if so much as a corner of a document was turned differently, Chang Ge’er would notice it at once. That was probably a required skill for a successful official — precision and vigilance. Sheng Hong had put himself through a thorough training in his younger years and cultivated the same.
But Gu Tingye was not a man naturally given to care and caution. There were too many things that could slip past him unguarded — and so he simply had to find a different path.
This way of operating looked rough on the surface, but was actually quite clever: the methods were blunt and direct, but effective. Gu Tingye knew full well that his household was not as it should be, that spies might be planted among the staff, and that the people sent over by the Ningyuan Marquis’s household may not have come with good intentions — but he had neither the time nor the inclination to deal with it. So he had simply done this instead.
After all, that glorious responsibility would ultimately be taken on by someone else. The moment this thought registered, Minglan felt a very considerable urge to bite someone.
“Don’t worry — I understand the stakes.” Minglan leaned lightly against the man’s chest, doing her best to project an air of measured experience and cool composure. “I’ll first sort out the staff arrangements, then assign their duties. If there’s anything I don’t understand, may I come and ask you?”
Gu Tingye gave a brief nod. Observing Minglan’s conduct over these past few days, he had come to feel she could be relied upon. From what he had observed of the Sheng Mansion, the household ran smoothly and with sound reputation — the eldest Sheng daughter, who had married into the Yuan Family, had proved herself a quite capable household manager. Minglan should be no less so. And if she truly proved not up to it, he would still be there.
At that moment Xiaotao arrived with a tea tray. Minglan hurriedly took the ginger soup and brought it to Gu Tingye’s side. “Drink this right away — drive out the chill!”
Gu Tingye took a small sip and recognized it immediately: brown sugar, ginger, and something more, all simmered down to a proper thickness. On the tongue it was warm and full-bodied; reaching his belly, it spread like a gentle fire through him, and a comfortable warmth radiated outward. He could not help but praise it: “This ginger soup is really something!”
Minglan smiled: “Of course — I watched over it myself from start to finish, simmering it for a full two hours. Drink two full bowls; it’s best if you work up a sweat. I’ve also had ginger soup sent to your guards and attendants — don’t worry.”
Looking at Minglan’s careful, tender, fussy manner — like a busy little mother hen, completely attentive — the room was filled with an unmistakable warmth. Gu Tingye raised the bowl to his lips and drank it in one long draft. He lowered his left wrist and wiped his lips. He suddenly had the impulse to ask: “Do you worry about me because you know you ought to, or because you truly do?” — but then felt he was being particularly foolish today for letting such tender, sentimental thoughts arise in him, and found it rather funny.