A square table, two bowls of noodles.

On top of each bowl of noodles sat a golden-fried poached egg.

Zheng Huaizuo had practiced martial arts early that morning and was thoroughly hungry. In three bites, he finished the noodles.

The little girl had only slurped a few mouthfuls.

Huaizuo waited impatiently, twisting left and moving right. Xie Zhifei knew little Huaizuo was cursing this girl as a pig in his heart again.

The pig ate to the last few bites. Huaizuo grabbed the bowl, scooped up the noodles, and stuffed them in his mouth. Chopsticks reaching down, the poached egg remained.

“Why didn’t you eat the egg?”

“Too rich!”

“What’s rich about it? You’re so picky.”

Huaizuo carelessly bit into the egg, mumbling: “How did Mother forget again? I clearly told her to poach two eggs.”

Huaiyou smiled without speaking.

Eight-year-old Zheng Huaizuo’s mind was filled with the soon-to-arrive double-six board. He noticed nothing. Twenty-one-year-old Xie Zhifei’s heart ached.

Huaiyou had poor digestion and couldn’t handle rich foods. Regular meals were all sent from the front courtyard.

Eggs were either steamed or boiled—boiled tender so that when you bit down, the yolk flowed out.

Mother liked fried eggs with lots of oil. After Huaiyou ate one, her stomach hurt for half a day.

The next year at their birthday, he paid attention, reminding Mother not to fry the eggs but to poach them in water—water-poached eggs nourished the stomach.

Who knew Mother would turn around and forget again?

Year after year on their birthday, he could always eat two eggs, while Huaiyou got a bowl of plain vegetarian noodles.

A child’s world attributed the problem to “forgetting.”

But Xie Zhifei understood—Mother did it deliberately, deliberately using these underhanded tricks to make little Huaiyou grow some eyes.

…

In Xie Zhifei’s memory, Mother was a beautiful woman.

Especially her eyes—very distinctive. When she smiled, they resembled a crescent moon. Father once said if Mother smiled more, that would be wonderful.

Yes, in his memory, Mother rarely smiled, always maintaining a cool, distant appearance.

Her coolness was different from Yan Sanhe’s coolness.

Yan Sanhe’s coolness was just coolness—aside from pride, nothing else was mixed in.

Mother’s coolness—during the ten years as Third Master Xie, he’d pondered it many times, always feeling something else was mixed in.

“Fifth Mistress, Fifth Mistress!”

“Coming.”

The visitor was the Grand Steward of the Zheng residence, carrying a bundle in his hands.

After exchanging greetings, the Grand Steward handed over the bundle without saying much: “Fifth Mistress, this old servant takes his leave.”

“Steward, wait a moment. The Mid-Autumn Festival is coming soon…”

“Fifth Mistress, rest assured. This old servant has arranged everything. We’ll pick the same amount as previous years.”

“Grand Steward has worked hard.”

“Fifth Mistress is too kind.”

The Grand Steward bowed and withdrew, not forgetting to close the gate when leaving the courtyard.

Zhao Qingyun gazed somewhat resentfully at that gate. After staring for quite a while, she finally turned back to her room.

Xie Zhifei followed.

He was intimately familiar with the contents of the bundle—according to Zheng residence rules, for young masters’ birthdays, the children received four new outfits and the parents two.

Every year on their birthday, the old steward personally delivered them.

Delivered to every branch, never playing favorites.

But what would be picked the same amount as previous years around the Mid-Autumn Festival—Xie Zhifei wasn’t very clear.

Memory seemed to hold no such matter.

Would they pick osmanthus flowers?

At this moment, Zhao Qingyun had opened the bundle, displeasure showing on her face: “Such somber, dark colors again. Am I seventy or eighty?”

Muttering aside, she still tried on the upper garment.

Bamboo-green color—indeed not very striking. Zhao Qingyun opened the box on her vanity, extracted a phoenix hairpin from within, and inserted it in her hair bun.

Looking left, looking right—still not quite satisfied.

She took a rouge box from the cosmetics case, opened it, applied some rouge, and dabbed it on her pale lips.

A previously bland, plain face gained a touch of color. The entire person came alive.

Zhao Qingyun twisted her waist before the bronze mirror, swayed her hips, and spun in place several times, like a bright flower butterfly displaying the mature woman’s charm in this unpeopled place, in this darkness.

Xie Zhifei stared in shock.

In memory, Mother was always plain and dignified. Forget rouge and powder—just that waist-twisting, hip-swaying appearance was not something Zhao family upbringing could produce.

Just then, Zhao Qingyun seemed to think of something. She threw off the new clothes and forcefully wiped away the rouge with a handkerchief.

“Can’t even leave this courtyard. Who am I dressing up for?”

She said resentfully: “Even imprisonment has some hope. These days don’t even have a shred of hope.”

“Mother, Mother! I walked sister around to digest her food. I’m going into the study to practice calligraphy.”

The voice outside the door was Huaizuo’s.

Zhao Qingyun showed some panic: “Go ahead. Remember to review your lessons. Mother will, will come test you shortly.”

“Test again? Won’t even let me rest on my birthday. Life is truly bitter…”

Footsteps faded. Zhao Qingyun pulled out the phoenix hairpin and sat before the bronze mirror again. Onion-like fingers traced inch by inch over the fine wrinkles at her eye corners.

After a long while, she sighed: “Life is truly bitter!”

The corners of Xie Zhifei’s eyes twitched slightly.

So Mother’s unwillingness and reluctance weren’t only for the biological daughter in the nunnery.

Also for herself!

…

In the study, two children sat at opposite ends of one desk, both practicing calligraphy.

Xie Zhifei didn’t enter the room, just standing outside the gauze window.

He didn’t even need to look up to know eight-year-old Zheng Huaizuo was now sprawled lazily on the desk, eagerly waiting for his sister to finish writing so she could help him.

After sprawling a while, Huaizuo grew impatient again.

“Eating is slow. How is writing also slow!”

Huaiyou didn’t even lift her eyelids, writing stroke by stroke.

Huaizuo leaned over wanting to cause trouble. She coolly raised her eyes. Huaizuo behaved, stopped moving, but his mouth didn’t rest:

“After Father buys the double-six board and brings it back, you keep it. After they fall asleep, I’ll secretly come get it.”

“Brother!”

Huaiyou put down her brush: “Review your lessons. Mother will check shortly. Don’t make her unhappy.”

“Review again, review again. I’m not cut out for studying at all.”

Huaizuo raised his sword-like eyebrows: “In the future, I’m going to be a general, lead troops into battle, like Grandfather—kill kill kill kill kill!”

“Brother, the book says generals also need to study and learn various military strategies.”

“Don’t I have you? In the future, I’ll appoint you as a scribe. You think up strategies for me, write for me. I’ll be responsible for killing bad people.”

“I’m female.”

“So what if you’re female? Eventually, you’ll become our Hua Kingdom’s first female scribe, specially serving this great general.”

“Brother, it’s only morning now.”

“What does that mean?”

“Dreaming should wait until night.”

Huaizuo’s body collapsed heavily: “True. I can’t even leave Haitang Courtyard. When will I ever become a great general!”

“Ay ya! You bumped me. This stroke is ruined.”

“Doesn’t look too bad. Can get away with it.”

“Brother, doing things can’t be gotten away with, especially studying and writing—can’t be gotten away with.”

“Zheng Huaiyou, if you keep saying these confused words, I won’t be friends with you anymore.”

“If we’re not friends, we’re not friends. Who cares?”

Huaiyou raised the back of her hand to wipe tears: “Next time you get beaten, don’t ask me to rub it for you.”

“Ay ya! Why are you crying? I’ll be friends with you, be friends with you—isn’t that enough?”

Huaizuo grinned ingratiatingly and leaned over: “This afternoon after Mother falls asleep, I’ll set up a net in the courtyard and catch a few birds for you to play with. How about it?”

The word “good” was about to emerge when Huaiyou’s peripheral vision caught a figure outside the window. She quickly kicked her brother.

Her brother looked up.

“Mother, how did you come without making a sound?”