After glancing at the water clock, little Hua Zhi — her hair styled in the two buns typical of a child of six or seven years — patted her little bun hairstyle and turned to look at the slightly taller maids behind her. “Have you packed all the food and drinks?”

Little Nianqiu lifted the bamboo basket and pulled back the cloth covering. “Young Miss, look — everything is odorless. You can be sure no one will notice.”

Little Hua Zhi gave a satisfied nod. Even when doing something mischievous, one ought to have the proper awareness for mischief — one must not leave any evidence that could be used against them.

Thinking of the archive tower with its wonderful fragrance, Hua Zhi’s heart brimmed with excitement. She wished she could take up permanent residence there and never leave, but that, unfortunately, was not possible. She was, after all, the well-behaved, obedient, quiet, and utterly unremarkable eldest young miss of the Hua Family — she could not stand out too much. The moment she thought of the persona she had crafted for herself, Hua Zhi felt a twinge of regret. Actually, “bookworm eldest miss” would have been perfectly acceptable too.

Little Yingchun and little Baoxia were left behind to act as cover. Little Yingchun wore a solemn expression as she gave instructions to the timid Fudong. “Once the Young Miss starts reading she forgets everything. You must look after her properly, understood?”

Little Fudong pressed her lips together and nodded repeatedly.

Little Yingchun then turned to little Nianqiu. “Stay sharp. Don’t let someone get right up to you before you even notice.”

“Yes, I understand.”

Little Hua Zhi watched the maids’ exchange with a contented smile and said nothing to reveal that this was not, in truth, such a grave matter. If they were truly found out, she could always come up with a reason to brush it off — but naturally, it would be far better not to be found out at all. She was, after all, the most inconspicuous eldest miss of the Hua Family!

The mistress and her two attendants followed the familiar route, making their way through a few turns and bends until they arrived at the archive tower. Hua Zhi had long since mapped out the patterns: aside from days of rest, at this hour the male members of the household were either at court, at their studies, or had gone out for other purposes. Not one of them would be idling about at home, and certainly none would wander to the archive tower. For a good half day, this magnificent building belonged entirely to her.

The light dancing in Hua Zhi’s eyes was radiant — what a blessed life this truly was!

Little Nianqiu pushed open the door of the archive tower, poked her head inside to confirm no one was there, and then signaled for her young miss to enter. Little Fudong hurried in right behind her. Nianqiu then pulled the door shut and made her way to the far end of the covered walkway, where she retrieved a hidden cloth and began wiping the pillars — keeping watch in all four directions with eyes and ears fully alert, serving as the young miss’s lookout.

This was not the first time she had done this, so the earlier nervousness had all but faded. As she kept watch, she traced characters on the pillar with her fingertip. Yesterday, the young miss had taught them ten new characters, and she still had not quite mastered them — this was a perfect opportunity to practice.

Little Nianqiu felt somewhat disheartened. Among the four of them, she was the slowest learner. Her three companions had all learned the characters, while she alone had not. She would need to work harder.

Little Nianqiu, who had stayed up very late the previous night studying, drifted off to sleep leaning against the pillar without knowing quite when it happened — and so she did not see Master Hua, a man then only in his middle years, dressed in the robes of a scholar and exuding an air of refined elegance, come walking down the covered walkway toward her with his hands clasped behind his back.

The head steward Xu, walking at his side, was about to call out a rebuke upon seeing the little maid in this state, but Master Hua waved him off with a smile and glanced at her as he walked past. She was barely that tall — and in a household with such strict rules as theirs. A child succumbing to drowsiness was entirely normal; if she could rest for a little while, why not let her?

Reaching the archive tower, Master Hua stopped the steward from following and pushed the door open to enter on his own. The moment he raised his eyes, he froze. The young girl sitting against the bookshelf cradling a book, wearing the expression of a silkworm that had fallen into a jar of mulberry leaves — utterly and blissfully content — looked very much like the eldest child of the eldest branch of the family.

Little Fudong also saw the person who had pushed open the door, and was so frightened that she rushed to stand in front of her young miss and block the visitor from behind her. Little Hua Zhi, irritated by the sudden loss of light, shoved her aside. “Move over, move over.”

“Young Miss…”

Without even lifting her head, little Hua Zhi replied, “I’m not hungry, and I’m not thirsty.”

Little Fudong was nearly in tears — not every time she came to find her young miss was it to bring her something to eat or drink!

Master Hua laughed with quiet amusement, and cast a mild glance at the little maid. Seeing that the maid’s legs were visibly trembling yet she still stood her ground in front of her young mistress, and thinking again of the drowsing little maid outside, Hua Yizheng’s smile deepened. This was truly… interesting.

He stepped lightly forward and gently moved aside the swaying little maid. Hua Yizheng looked at his eldest granddaughter, whose eyes and expression were so lively and animated. He reached out and lifted the book from her hands. He watched as she raised her head in a daze — and then, in the instant of startled surprise that followed, she lowered her head and greeted him deferentially, her expression meek and composed, exactly as he had always seen her.

He turned the book over in his hands. It was a collection of accounts of folk figures. Anything housed in the Hua Family archive tower naturally had its merits — he had read this very book years ago. The figures within were not court officials or great scholars, nor famous persons of renown, but rather ordinary, obscure people of the common folk who each possessed a singular skill. He had not expected that his eldest granddaughter, born into wealth from the moment she drew her first breath, would read it with such evident delight.

He sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the bookshelf, and gestured to the space across from him. “Come sit and talk.”

Several thoughts flashed through little Hua Zhi’s mind before settling on a single one: when a soldier comes, meet him with a general; when a flood comes, hold it back with earth.

So she truly did sit down across from him — still composed and proper in posture, yet the act of sitting on the floor lent her a certain informality.

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you come here often?”

Little Hua Zhi considered carefully. “I have come a number of times.”

Hua Yizheng nodded, and waved the book in his hand before shifting the conversation rather than pressing the question further. “Have you found enjoyment in it?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

Hua Zhi’s answer was quite guarded. “They are remarkable people.”

“Oh? You think people who cannot read and hold no official title are remarkable?”

“Yes.”

“In what way are they remarkable?”

At that time, little Hua Zhi did not yet know her grandfather well. Worried that he might consider such books unsuitable for the archive tower and have them all removed, she was careful to present the demeanor appropriate for a child of six years. “They cannot read, yet they know things that none of us know.”

“A fair point.” Hua Yizheng smiled, and then abruptly changed the subject again. “Can you read characters?”

“Yes.” She paused, and then added, “Some of them.”

“Can you write?”

“Not very well.”

Every single answer carefully held something back. Surrounded by the fragrance of ink, Hua Yizheng drew in a deep, unhurried breath and let it out without a sound. Every few generations, the Hua Family would produce someone of extraordinary brilliance — but compared to those whose sharp talents blazed outwardly, his eldest granddaughter’s deliberate concealment of her gifts pleased him far more. The world was never short of clever people. What it lacked was people clever enough to keep their cleverness hidden.

He handed the book back to her, then rose and took several volumes from another shelf before making his unhurried way out.

Little Hua Zhi and the terrified, sweat-drenched little Fudong exchanged a glance, and for a moment neither could make sense of what her grandfather had intended. Over the following days, she stopped going to the archive tower.

Yet the archive tower held an immense pull for her — it was a treasure trove of irresistible attraction. When she saw that her grandfather treated her no differently than before, and that nothing in the household had changed, she could not hold herself back any longer once the days of rest had passed, and she crept back once more. After several successive days passed without incident, she returned to her usual habits — and even allowed herself a touch of audacity, as though her visits had now been quietly sanctioned. She had read the situation clearly: her grandfather would not expose her for this. So the next time she saw him, she was already wearing the expression of someone who shared a secret — one of his own inner circle.

PS: This took a little longer than expected. I have been unwell since I finished the main story, and I kept struggling to find the right feeling. Let me start by revisiting the childhood sections to find my footing again.