Snow-blue collar, purple-blue robe. Bright chrysanthemums embroidered in clusters on his shoulders, now slightly dampened by the rain. Eyes usually cold as winter stars now held amusement at Mo Zi’s appearance with the biscuit in her mouth. The corner of his mouth curved up—no longer the lofty General Xiao.
As someone who’d been on the same boat with him, Mo Zi found it rather eerie to see Xiao Erlang descend from heaven to earth with such a suddenly approachable expression.
Sure enough, as soon as he opened his mouth: “Big rat, big rat, don’t eat my millet.”
How outrageous! Did he take her for illiterate? Unfortunately for him, though she couldn’t remember many complete poems and songs, she’d heard this famous ancient phrase and could understand it very clearly. Calling her a rat stealing his food? She was hungry and biting into a biscuit made by Bai He, not something he’d cooked in the kitchen!
She reached up and heavily broke off the half outside her mouth. What was already in her mouth, she hurriedly chewed a few times and swallowed before replying, “Drowned chicken, drowned chicken, don’t invade my territory.” Composing poetry was so simple—anyone could do it. Because ancient people just spoke in that cadence. Just like modern rap—black people actually talk that way. Others find it novel and think, “Wow, that sounds good!” Ancient poetry was a bit like that—if you were born in ancient times and spent ten years reading classical texts, your casual speech would naturally have that poetic flavor.
Xiao Wei was taken aback. “Drowned chicken, drowned chicken?”
“Drowned chicken, drowned—chicken.” At this time, he was coming from Wu You Pavilion—”drowned chicken” had a double meaning.
“What kind of maid are you, daring to speak to Second Master this way?” A short man flashed out from behind Xiao Erlang, with eyes so small they were barely visible, dark complexion, and a topknot on his head no bigger than an egg—the kind with particularly sparse hair. However, he filled out his black servant’s cloth outfit quite solidly—apparently a martial arts servant.
Mo Zi was in no hurry, sending the biscuit in her hand to her mouth. Eating took precedence over everything. She was Qiu Sanniang’s maid, not Xiao Erlang’s maid.
“I’m not contradicting Second Master, but seeing Second Master had poetic inspiration, I followed along and added a couple of lines.” Drowned chicken, drowned chicken, don’t invade my territory. Accidentally, it even rhymed.
The servant’s mouth immediately swallowed an egg and choked. Poetry could be composed this way?
“Is this your place?” Originally finding her appearance quite amusing, Xiao Wei said whatever came to mind, only to have her retort. What? Drowned chicken? There was no such expression.
“Second Master makes an excellent point. This biscuit also isn’t Second Master’s.” Waiting for you! Mo Zi patted the biscuit crumbs off her hands, clasped her hands together and placed them at her waist, executing a perfect curtsy. “Second Master, Mo Zi is helping Third Young Madam find books. If I’ve disturbed Second Master’s peace, Mo Zi apologizes here.”
Hearing this, Xiao Wei realized she’d found herself a perfect way down the steps and descended smoothly. He really couldn’t quibble. She was finding books, he was sheltering from rain. He called her a big rat, she called him a drowned chicken. Moreover, most impressive was what came after—she actually lowered her head and admitted fault first, so even if he had anger, he couldn’t vent it. He snorted lightly and sat down at the book desk.
“Second Master, this servant will fetch an umbrella. Please wait a moment.” After the servant finished speaking, he glanced sideways at Mo Zi, nose raised high, as if to say—Look, this is what it means to be a proper servant. Thunder, rain, wind, lightning—one must still lead the charge.
Mo Zi smiled: You’re very good, but I can’t do that.
The servant turned and walked to the door. Thinking better of it and feeling unwilling, he turned his head back to order Mo Zi around. “Second Master has been drinking and got caught in the rain. Hurry and brew a pot of hot tea to drive away Second Master’s chill.”
“Hot tea?” Mo Zi thought to herself, where was she supposed to find hot tea?
“Are you new? There’s a stove and clean water in the side room next door—just boil it.” The servant was quite familiar with this place, pointing outside, then to the left.
“Is Second Master’s Weifeng Residence very far?” She was indeed new.
“Not far.” The servant didn’t understand why she was asking.
“So which is faster—you making a round trip, or me lighting the stove and boiling water?” It wasn’t a gas stove, much less an electric kettle. Boiling water on a stove—what great effort that took! Just getting the coal to burn would take her quite a while.
“Eh?” The servant was stumped by the question. Thinking about it, she was right—Weifeng Residence wasn’t far, which was why he could brave the rain to fetch an umbrella. By the time he returned, the water probably wouldn’t even be boiling yet. But though Mo Zi spoke very reasonably, he was annoyed by her many questions. “What do you care whether I’m faster or boiling water is faster? If Second Master catches a chill and falls ill, can you bear that responsibility?”
Why should she bear responsibility? It was Xiao Erlang himself who went drinking at the pleasure house; it was Xiao Erlang himself who got caught in the heavy rain. Catch a chill and fall ill? That was even more ridiculous. Drinking alcohol dispelled cold, plus he was a military general—getting sick from a little rain, how would he lead troops in battle?
In front of Xiao Erlang, these words naturally remained only in her thoughts. She always knew that being impudent required knowing when to stop.
“No need to trouble…” Xiao Wei discovered that the moment he finished these four words, Mo Zi had already bent down, sat cross-legged on the ground, and was looking through the tall stack of books beside her one by one.
This maid probably never intended to boil water and brew tea in the first place.
“Second Master?” The servant was somewhat surprised that his master was so easy-going tonight—probably because he’d drunk too much. Unable to say anything more about Mo Zi, he said, “I’ll be right back.”
Xiao Wei nodded.
The servant rushed into the rain.
Candles burned steadily, raindrops pattered down—no other sounds.
Mo Zi knew that initially being provoked by “big rat, big rat,” she’d spontaneously retorted sarcastically, forgetting Xiao Erlang’s status. Though afterward she’d obediently apologized, she didn’t know whether the other party would hold a grudge. Now she simply said nothing, hoping to mend the fence after losing the sheep—it wasn’t too late.
Xiao Erlang had no intention of saying much to a household maid, but this maid was somewhat different. Setting aside how he’d already witnessed her cleverness and quick wit during the month-plus they’d spent together on the boat, she was one of the few maids whose conversation didn’t make him feel she was stupid. Add to that the fact he’d been drinking and couldn’t bear the quiet, and before long he took the initiative to speak.
“What books did Third Young Madam send you to find?” He knew about this book pavilion—stacked in complete chaos, finding a book truly required bringing provisions.
Thinking of this, his mind involuntarily conjured Mo Zi’s comical appearance just now. When he said “big rat,” he’d truly meant no malice, yet she was unhappy. But if he said he meant no malice, not only would his dignity as master be lost, she’d definitely say that when she called him a drowned chicken, she also meant no malice. That formidable mouth of hers—he’d already witnessed it plenty.
“One Book of Songs, one Spring and Autumn Annals.” Though she wouldn’t take the initiative, when soldiers came she still had to block—otherwise they’d say she didn’t understand propriety again.
“Doesn’t your Third Young Madam know that Third Master’s Jingquan Pavilion has many books? She need only ask him once and he’d definitely find them for her. Why seek far when help is near?” There were some rumors in the mansion saying this couple hadn’t yet consummated their marriage. Looking at tonight, it might actually be true.
“Doesn’t Second Master know the rule Third Master established? No one can enter Jingquan Pavilion without his permission. Even the young madam is the same. Moreover, these two books are most ordinary—how could she have the nerve to ask Third Master to lend them? That’s why she sent Mo Zi to this book pavilion.” Had she known it was this chaotic, she should have just bought new ones at the bookstore outside.
“How would your madam know Third Master won’t lend them if she hasn’t asked? When a woman is too self-reliant, she’s the one who suffers. Men most detest having to guess thoughts. If your madam continues like this, or if she wants to play hard to get, she’ll just push Third Master toward other women. Since you’re a clever maid, you should properly advise your mistress. When the mistress succeeds, those below also succeed with her. Otherwise, in front of others, you’ll be one rank lower, treated like a newcomer, ordered about.” As Xiao Wei spoke, he didn’t look at Mo Zi but reached out to push open the window—the thunderstorm had lessened somewhat.
This one must have drunk quite a bit to actually think to say such words. Though it seemed to be for Qiu Sanniang’s good, it was actually more for his younger brother’s benefit.
Mo Zi smiled. “Second Master’s words—Mo Zi doesn’t know whether to respond or not? If I don’t respond, I fear Second Master will say I have no respect; if I respond, I fear Second Master will be angry.”
“Just speak. Are you actually afraid I’ll be angry? I don’t see it.” When drunk, Xiao Wei’s personality was slightly better than when sober.
“According to Second Master’s meaning, our madam should act coquettish toward Third Master, speak sweet words to coax him, firmly grasp Third Master in the palm of her hand, and gain Third Master’s favor—that would be the correct approach?” Mo Zi asked in return.
“Isn’t that so? For a woman to be aloof at first is charming. However, being constantly aloof becomes tiresome. The world is full of gentle and understanding flowers—one doesn’t necessarily need that tiresome one.” Xiao Wei’s eyes narrowed as he propped his hand against his forehead. The Wu You Pavilion’s alcohol, damn it, had strong aftereffects. Knowing this was precisely why he’d returned early.
“Does Second Master think my madam likes Third Master but fears Third Master won’t stay by her side long, so she’s deliberately playing hard to get?” Only someone narcissistic like Xiao Erlang could think such thoughts. Mo Zi felt disdain.
“Isn’t it?” Xiao Erlang’s head was dizzy, and the figure among the bookcases was somewhat blurred.
“It isn’t.” Qiu Sanniang had no romantic feelings for Xiao San, which was why she truly sent him toward Jin Si with sincere blessings for completing a loving couple. Mo Zi thought this to herself but ultimately decided not to say it. Xiao Er was drunk, but she was perfectly sober. In this mansion, words couldn’t be spoken carelessly, especially complete truths. “My madam has no intention of competing for favor, much less playing hard to get. She and Third Master haven’t spent much time together—this kind of affection needs to be slowly cultivated.”
“Is that so?” The alcohol was taking effect, but he wasn’t yet muddled—he heard her suddenly become perfunctory.
“Yes. Has Second Master been listening to someone gossiping? Matters between husband and wife—the madam and Third Master understand best. We outsiders shouldn’t meddle.” The talkative Xiao Er had nearly made her speak the truth.
“Mo Zi.” Xiao Er—rarely, was this the first time calling her name?
Mo Zi didn’t feel grateful but instead became fully alert. “Yes, Second Master.”
“You truly are very clever.” A genuine compliment.
Even with his head dizzy and vision blurred, after her casual evasion, Xiao Wei still knew their conversation had exceeded the distance that should be maintained between master and servant. The topic he’d initiated was sensitive—if she’d spoken truths favorable to Qiu Sanniang but unfavorable to Xiao San and someone overheard, it would be grounds for punishment as sowing discord. Fortunately, her words were as good as unsaid, not bringing trouble upon herself.
Mo Zi lowered her head. No, she wasn’t clever—she merely understood the principles of how to protect herself in this seemingly harmonious and friendly Prince Jing’s mansion. At any time, she couldn’t let down her guard. Even if someone seemed harmless, they could transform into a double-edged sword that could wound.
Under no circumstances could she be confused, because the sober Xiao Erlang was the true Xiao Erlang!