Yining awoke to the sound of rain. Exhausted, she had retired early that night. Outside, lightning flashed and thunder roared menacingly. Pulling back the curtains, she saw her night attendant sleeping soundly by the footstool, wrapped in a quilt, undisturbed by the noise.
Amidst the rain, Yining heard faint, intermittent coughing from the adjacent room. Listening carefully, she realized it was her grandmother.
The old Lady Luo suffered from a chronic cough that flared up unpredictably. When it struck, she couldn’t sleep at night and lacked energy during the day. Both Luo Chengzhang and the eldest Master Luo had tried numerous folk remedies but to no avail.
Yining lay back down, but the coughing persisted, growing increasingly suppressed and severe. Even the night attendant outside woke up. Candlelight filtered in, accompanied by the maids’ hushed voices.
Xu Mama whispered, “Keep it down. The young miss is sleeping. Don’t wake her…”
Yining sighed and rolled over. Her grandmother’s health was indeed deteriorating. She recalled her sister-in-law using fritillary bulb and loquat leaf soup to treat coughs and wondered if it might help. She decided to have the kitchen prepare a bowl for her grandmother to try tomorrow.
The next morning, Yining summoned the kitchen matron.
Seeing the seventh young miss kneeling on the luohan bed drawing patterns, the matron smiled and curtsied, “I’m here, Seventh Young Miss. What can I do for you?”
“I need some loquat leaves,” Yining said while sketching, “and fritillary bulbs, but they must be the smallest kind, only the ‘moon-in-arms’ type. Can you find those, Nanny?”
The matron, seeing her childlike demeanor, assumed she wanted them for play. She replied kindly, “That’s no problem, but what is ‘moon-in-arms’? What does the Seventh Young Miss want these for?”
As Yining pondered how to explain ‘moon-in-arms’ to the matron, a calm voice came from outside: “Moon-in-arms is the finest fritillary bulb, produced only in Shu.”
Delighted by the familiar voice, Yining hurried to get down from the luohan bed. Xuezhi steadied her as she jumped down. She ran towards him, exclaiming, “Third Brother, you’re back!”
Luo Shenyuan steadied the little girl, a faint smile touching his lips. “Well, you’ve become quite lively.”
Yining was overjoyed to see him, inhaling his familiar scent—the warm, safe smell from when he had rescued her. She pulled away his arm and noticed a small package in his hand, which she promptly took.
Opening it, she found zongzi candy.
The small, triangular sweets were a glossy brown, studded with pine nuts and exuding a sugary fragrance.
Luo Shenyuan said softly, “I brought these back for you.”
Having been a hairpin for over twenty years without eating or drinking, combined with young Yining’s love for food, she was always excited by delicacies. It had been a long time since she’d had zongzi candy. Yining ate one, had Xuezhi store the rest in her treasure box, and thanked Luo Shenyuan with a beaming smile.
Yining’s treasure box, when opened, revealed five or six layers, each filled with different snacks: dried fruits, preserves, pastries, sugar cakes, and even meat jerky.
Luo Shenyuan watched her cheeks puff up like buns as she savored the candy. His expression remained neutral, but inwardly he found it amusing.
He sat down and asked, “What do you need those ingredients for?”
Yining improvised, “I read a recipe in a book that’s supposed to stop coughing. I’m going to make it for Grandmother.”
“The Seventh Young Miss is so filial. The Old Madam will surely be pleased when she learns of this,” the kitchen matron said with a smile. “I’ll have everything prepared according to your instructions, Young Miss.”
Just then, Old Madam Luo returned from the small Buddhist shrine. Luo Shenyuan rose to greet her. Having arrived home first that morning, he had been the first to pay his respects, followed by Luo Huaiyuan and Luo Shanyuan. Old Madam Luo inquired about their studies and their tutor, Master Song.
“The autumn imperial examinations are in two months. Our Luo family has a long scholarly tradition, and our sons have always excelled in their studies. You three will take the exam together this time, so don’t slack off,” Old Madam Luo instructed. “From today on, you must study at least seven hours daily. Huaiyuan, you took the exam three years ago, so your chances of passing are high this time. Set a good example for your brothers.”
Luo Huaiyuan rose and respectfully agreed.
Old Madam Luo coughed a few times, covering her mouth, and dismissed Luo Huaiyuan and Luo Shanyuan. They needed rest after their journey.
She kept only Luo Shenyuan to talk.
Yining sat in the west wing, drawing patterns and overhearing their conversation. She heard Old Madam Luo ask softly, “Are you confident this time?”
Luo Shenyuan paused before replying, “I don’t understand what Grandmother means.”
“Three years ago, when Lord Cao saw your essay, he said you would undoubtedly pass the exam,” Old Madam Luo said coldly. “Now I’m asking if you can pass this time. You should know things are different now. You’re older, and I won’t treat you the same as before.”
Luo Shenyuan responded, “Grandmother has always been indifferent towards me. I didn’t realize you were paying attention in secret.” He seemed to chuckle self-deprecatingly, “But I know you don’t truly care, it’s just…”
His voice lowered, and Yining longed to press herself against the screen to hear more clearly. But with Xuezhi watching, she couldn’t openly eavesdrop. Yining focused on her pattern-drawing, and gradually the voices faded. Xu Mama helped Old Madam Luo into the room, instructing Yining to finish her patterns for tomorrow’s needlework.
Yining agreed, watching Old Madam Luo retire to her inner chamber. She wondered if Luo Shenyuan had left.
Putting on her shoes, she peeked behind the screen and saw Luo Shenyuan still seated, drinking tea. Without looking up, he said, “Yining, I asked you to practice calligraphy before I left. Where’s your practice book?”
So he had stayed to check on her studies.
She hadn’t expected Luo Shenyuan to return so soon and had only completed less than half of the practice book.
Yining thought for a moment, then asked with a smile, “Third Brother, would you like some sticky rice chicken? We’re having it for lunch. You could stay.”
Luo Shenyuan looked up at her, his tone unchanged: “Go get your practice book.”
Yining grumbled inwardly, feeling like a child despite being an adult inside. She climbed onto the luohan bed, retrieved the practice book from the bedside cabinet, and handed it to Luo Shenyuan. He flipped through the pages, his brow gradually furrowing.
Standing before him, Yining saw the crease between his eyebrows, his thick lashes beneath, and the handsome line from his nose to his chin. While Cheng Lang might be considered the most handsome, Yining found Luo Shenyuan uniquely attractive, growing more appealing the longer she looked at him.
She wondered what kind of wife her third brother would find in the future. Yining couldn’t recall who Luo Shenyuan’s wife had been, but then again, her experience in the inner quarters was limited. Whoever could match her third brother would have to be exceptionally outstanding…
“I heard Father wrongly accused you of breaking a string of aquamarine beads. You cried for a long time,” Luo Shenyuan’s voice suddenly interrupted her thoughts.
Yining looked up at him, puzzled. Hadn’t he been away? How did he know about this?
Luo Shenyuan paused, then continued, “Yining, these things don’t matter. Those who care about you will care regardless, and those who don’t won’t change their minds. Your calligraphy needs work. I’ll write you a new practice book tomorrow.” He stood up, patted her head, and left.
Yining was stunned by his sudden gesture. By the time she came to her senses, Luo Shenyuan had vanished.
In truth, Yining wasn’t truly upset about being wrongly accused. It was probably young Yining who was heartbroken, and she had been suppressing her feelings for a long time. As for her third brother, he seemed to have grown closer to her, even patting her head.
Apart from Old Madam Luo, it had been years since anyone had patted Yining’s head. Perhaps only her wet nurse, who had raised her, had shown such affection. Yining sighed at the thought—after her death, the wet nurse who had raised her had passed away shortly after.
As she pondered these things, the kitchen matron came to inform her that the fritillary bulb and loquat leaf soup were ready.