As Yining stepped back, Shen Yu smiled and said, “Don’t be alarmed, sister Yining. I… I just want to talk to you for a moment.”
Why was she looking at him with such a strange and cautious gaze? There was no hint of warmth in her eyes.
Shen Yu’s smile faded. He pulled a sachet from his sleeve – a dark blue pouch embroidered with delicate orchids. “Inside are prayer beads I obtained from Guangji Temple last time. They were blessed by the great Dharma Master. His blessings are known to be especially efficacious.” He had kept this on his person, hoping for a chance to give it to her. The sachet was still warm from his body heat.
Yining refused politely, “Brother Shen Yu, I don’t wear prayer beads.”
Shen Yu’s fingers tightened slightly around the sachet.
Yining considered herself a kind person who rarely rejected others directly. But in this case, it was best to cut things off cleanly without worrying about saving face.
She turned and walked away along the corridor without another word to Shen Yu. Songzhi hurried after her.
Once past the corridor, Yining let out a sigh of relief. Looking back, she saw Shen Yu’s blue-clad figure still standing motionless through the plum branches. She sighed softly.
When Yining returned, the stage was already set up, with drums and gongs creating a lively atmosphere. Old Madam Wei sat smiling at the center of the female guests, wearing a jacket embroidered with endless swastika patterns as she listened to the opera. Noticing Yining and Mingzhu’s absence, she turned and asked, “Where have those two girls gone?”
An attendant replied, “The young miss went to view the plum blossoms, but I’m not sure about Miss Mingzhu.”
Old Madam Wei smiled, “That Mingzhu, I even selected her favorite opera. It’s about to reach the best part. Find out where she went.”
Yining stood at the entrance to Fangshan, suddenly reluctant to enter. She had planned to watch a few acts with Old Madam Wei, but she never enjoyed operas.
She quietly told Daimei beside her, “Go tell Grandmother that I drank some wine and have a headache. I’m going back to rest for a while.”
As Daimei left to deliver the message, Yining turned and left Fangshan with her maids.
Halfway back, snow began to fall again. Zhenzhu opened an umbrella for Yining and said gently, “Young Miss, in the past when it was Miss Mingzhu’s birthday, Old Madam would always hire an opera troupe and hold a banquet. Everyone had to listen to whatever opera Miss Mingzhu liked. Please don’t take it to heart.”
Yining wondered what there was to take to heart. She lifted her head slightly, hearing the distant sound of opera singing. It seemed to have reached an exciting part, with the gongs ringing more enthusiastically.
Yining sighed, “Let’s go back.”
Zhenzhu felt a pang of sadness. What made people sad was often not big events. She gripped Yining’s hand a little tighter. At first, when the Duke of Ying sent her to care for Yining, she saw it merely as following orders. But now she felt some genuine affection.
Yining should have been the one enjoying all this – Old Madam Wei’s doting, the status of the Duke’s daughter. Someone else had enjoyed it for over ten years while she lived as an unremarkable adopted daughter in Baoding. Now that she had returned, Zhao Mingzhu still occupied that place. Even if Old Madam Wei didn’t intend it, her fondness for Mingzhu had become a habit.
As they returned to the East Garden, Yining walked slowly along the mansion’s paths. Suddenly she spotted a small figure crouched under her veranda.
“Tingger?” Yining approached him. Tingger wore a fur-lined cloak, his face buried in the furry collar. He looked fluffy all over, like a small animal.
Yining crouched down, surprised. “Why are you here? Weren’t you watching the opera at Fangshan? Did your wet nurse lose track of you again?”
Tingger finally looked up, his deer-like eyes framed by long, thick lashes that could melt anyone’s heart. He said, “They were watching the opera. I snuck out when they weren’t paying attention.”
“That won’t do,” Yining said, helping him stand. How could a child behave this way? If people discovered he was missing, wouldn’t it throw the entire mansion into chaos on Old Madam Wei’s birthday? “I’ll take you back. Zhenzhu, bring another cloak for the young master.”
But Tingger avoided her, saying, “They told me… my mother used to live here.” He continued, “That’s why I’m staying here. I don’t remember what my mother looked like. They said if I miss her, I should come here to look around.”
Yining was taken aback, feeling sorry for him. “Do you miss your mother?”
“I don’t miss her,” Tingger said, pressing his lips together. “I don’t remember what she was like. She died when I was very young.”
Yining didn’t force him to go back anymore. She called a maid to send a message to Fangshan. Taking Tingger’s hand, she said, “Well, you can’t sit out here.”
She led Tingger into the inner room, warm from the heated floor and fragrant with pine incense. Songzhi quickly brought over a hot water bottle. Feeling how cold Tingger was, Yining spread out a blanket and tucked him in tightly, making sure his feet were covered. When she looked up, she found Tingger watching her.
He hesitated before asking, “If… I call you ‘sister’, would you hug me?”
Yining’s heart ached at his words. She immediately embraced the small child. Tingger was stiff at first but gradually relaxed in her arms, closing his eyes. Holding him, Yining asked, “Tingger, shall I take you back later tonight? Or should I have your wet nurse come here?”
But the child had already fallen asleep, clutching her clothes. His little head rested on her shoulder, his breathing slow and steady.
Yining found his unusual docility strange. As she was about to lay him down, Zhenzhu spoke up: “Today is the death anniversary of the young master’s birth mother. Since it conflicts with Old Madam’s birthday, no one in the mansion ever tells Tingger about it. He must have found out somehow and is feeling upset…”
Yining suddenly recalled the day she first arrived, when Tingger had run into her room. Everyone had crowded around him as he looked at her, proud and stubborn.
“His life isn’t easy either,” Yining mused, gazing at Tingger’s face so similar to Wei Ling’s. The mansion was filled with festive decorations and excitement, yet it was his mother’s death anniversary. And fearing bad luck, they didn’t even dare tell him openly. She took the pillow Zhenzhu offered and placed it under Tingger’s neck. As she was about to lay him down, she felt his forehead was warm.
Alarmed, Yining checked again. He was indeed feverish. No wonder the child had fallen asleep so quickly – he wasn’t feeling well. She quickly turned and said, “Go wake up Qingqu… and send someone to inform Father and Madam Tong!”
It was one thing for Tingger to run to her place, as he often wandered around. But for him to fall ill without anyone noticing! The maids and nurses responsible for him were truly incompetent.
Immediately, maids came in with water. Yining wrung out a cloth and placed it on Tingger’s forehead. Hearing the commotion, Tingger opened his eyes to see her by his side. “I’m thirsty… I feel awful,” Tingger said without any anger. “I want some tea.”
A maid promptly brought tea. Yining held it to his lips and stroked his head, saying, “It’s alright… sister is here.”
Tingger leaned into her embrace, finding her hands as gentle as he imagined his mother’s would be.
“When you came… Sister Mingzhu told me not to play with you too much, and that I shouldn’t get too close. She said you would take all my things away. Father gave you my room and even two of my maids.”
Perhaps due to his illness, Tingger seemed more dependent. Clutching Yining’s sleeve, he continued, “I wanted to play with you, but I was afraid you’d take my things like Sister Mingzhu said. So I came to see you secretly… to see what you were like.” His lips trembled slightly. “But I also like it when you hug me. I suddenly felt that it wouldn’t matter even if you took my things. Will you take all my things away…?”
Yining’s heart ached listening to him. She hadn’t known the child was thinking such things. For a five-year-old, the fear of losing everything must be terrifying.
Hugging Tingger, she said, “Sister won’t take your things. I like Tingger very much.”
Tingger finally seemed to relax in her arms and fell silent.
Moments later, Wei Ling arrived with a stern expression. He had just returned from meeting guests and still wore his official robe embroidered with qilin patterns. He summoned Tingger’s maids and nurses, ordering them all to kneel in the courtyard as punishment. The closest personal maids were sent to work in the laundry.
Madam Tong knelt at the door, crying bitterly with guilt. She had nursed Tingger herself and naturally had deep feelings for him. Fortunately, Tingger’s illness wasn’t too severe. If he had developed a high fever, even she might have been driven from the mansion. She watched Tingger take his medicine in small sips, wishing she could bear the suffering in his place.
After reprimanding the servants, Wei Ling sat across from Yining and sighed, “With me away from the mansion these years, things have fallen into disarray. Your grandmother is getting old… she can’t manage everything anymore. Now that you’ve returned…”
Yining looked at him as he trailed off. Surely Wei Ling didn’t intend for her to manage the household?
The Duke’s mansion was enormous – she had no intention of managing it!
Wei Ling seemed to read Yining’s thoughts. He waved his hand, indicating he had no such intention. Even if she wanted to, Wei Ling wouldn’t allow it. Unlike small households, the affairs of an aristocratic family were extremely complex, sometimes troubling even for him. How could a young girl handle it? He feared it would exhaust his daughter.
“Now that you’re back, I want you to look after Tingger,” Wei Ling said quietly to Yining. “He’s your younger brother and will inherit the title in the future. You two must get along well. I’ll gradually teach him these things too. You’re his real sister – you should support each other.”
Looking at Tingger’s small face, Yining understood Wei Ling’s meaning. “Father…”
“I can’t trust the servants to raise him properly,” Wei Ling said. He was worried about Tingger becoming too close to Zhao Mingzhu instead of Yining. Sighing, he stroked his daughter’s hair. “Would you like Tingger to move in and live with you?”