The banquet was set in the Twin Happiness Pavilion.

As the name suggested, these were two identical tower pavilions. The male host and male guests were in the Cloud Happiness Quiet Tower, while the female family members were in the Wind Happiness Moving Tower. They could see each other but couldn’t make out details clearly, achieving the wonderful effect of propriety between men and women.

The Twin Happiness Pavilion was located by the lakeside, directly opposite Qiu Wu’s courtyard that Mo Zi had passed during the day, separated by a small lake.

As the lamp shadows gradually brightened in graceful elegance, Mo Zi saw Bai He’s worried frown and comforted her, “Bai He, when soldiers come, we’ll block them with generals; when water comes, we’ll cover it with earth. Just set your mind at ease.”

“Mo Zi, though you’ve only followed the young miss for less than half a year and only receive a second-rank maid’s monthly wages, I can see that the young miss values you extremely highly, all because of your cleverness. You usually don’t accompany the young miss everywhere—you mostly handle tasks alone—so I must remind you of the rules before the mistress. Whether she praises or scolds you, you cannot resent or contradict her. Be submissive and humble, and never show joy or anger on your face. Whatever she asks you, keep your answers as brief as possible and speak favorably. Don’t assume all masters are as easy to talk to as our young miss, letting us climb all over their heads regardless of status. Moreover, the mistress could pick faults with our young miss even when there are none—your and my behavior will all implicate the young miss.” Bai He thought of everything for Qiu Sanniang, and this also included concern for Mo Zi.

Mo Zi answered with complete seriousness, “Good sister, I’ll neither hit back nor talk back.”

Bai He’s eyelid twitched. She pretended to slap Mo Zi’s arm. “What unlucky talk is this? At worst, you’ll just get a scolding. Why on earth would she hit you?”

“If she can’t hit our young miss, she’ll vent her anger on me instead.” Mo Zi deliberately teased Bai He.

As the two talked, they crossed the bridge to shore and entered the Wind Happiness Moving Tower, one of the Twin Happiness Pavilions. Downstairs, over twenty maids and servant women sat at several tables, watching the excitement on the theater stage in the middle of the building.

When Lu Ju and Xiao Yi saw them, they were just about to surround them and ask what was happening.

But Ai Xing, who was waiting at the stairway entrance, intercepted them perfectly. With both hands on her waist, standing two steps higher, she looked down at Mo Zi through narrowed eyes, snorted, and said, “Why so long? The opera is almost over.”

The Ai-generation maids all came from the mistress’s quarters and naturally had learned their master’s ways to perfection.

Bai He put on a smiling face, about to make up an excuse.

“If you still don’t report it, it won’t just be the opera that’s over.” Mo Zi spoke first, her brows calm and eyes steady. Having become a maid with countless people able to step on her head, she had already endured much. But as fellow members of society’s lowest laboring class, she was unwilling to yield to Ai Xing’s bullying.

Bai He smiled bitterly.

Ai Xing had seen Mo Zi before but found her utterly unremarkable. This was the first time hearing her speak. Her tone was flat and plain, her face dull and wooden, yet Ai Xing felt uncomfortable, as if a thorn had lodged in her heart.

Even stranger, though uncomfortable, she had to admit Mo Zi was right. Somewhat involuntarily, she went upstairs to report, “Reporting to the mistress, Mo Zi has arrived.”

“Hurry up and come up then.” Zhang Shi’s other senior maid, Ai Tao, relayed the words down.

Mo Zi didn’t wait for Ai Xing to step aside but climbed the stairs past her. Looking back once, she saw Bai He trying to follow but blocked by Ai Xing, so she smiled and shook her head at her, signaling her to be at ease.

As soon as she stepped onto the second floor’s boards, she saw several magnificent high lamps hanging from the ceiling, dozens of cloud crystal porcelain lamps lit on the walls, carved beams and painted rafters, luxurious fragrance—magnificent and beautiful. Three large round rosewood tables were surrounded by a group of women in splendid clothes and brocade robes, their pearl hairpins swaying, gold ornaments dazzling the eyes, jade pieces clinking together making delightful tinkling sounds.

At a glance, Mo Zi spotted Qiu Sanniang sitting at the head of the second table, lightly sipping tea, her eyes fixed intently on the theater stage outside the building, appearing utterly engrossed. Except for Qiu Sanniang, everyone’s gaze was sizing her up. She had no time for detailed observation and assumed the posture she’d used most often recently—lowered brows and obedient eyes.

“Mo Zi greets the mistress, all the ladies and young misses.” She bent her knees in a curtsy, then straightened up. Within this small movement hid her rebellious nature. Properly, she should have bowed and remained bowed until the masters told her to rise.

But Mo Zi’s skill lay in unconsciously guiding others’ thoughts. Take this curtsy movement, for instance—light yet sincere, humble yet clever. People watching felt vaguely flattered, thinking they were being properly respected and honored. Even someone as picky as Zhang Shi didn’t make an issue of it.

Mo Zi thought, though this transmigrator was rather ordinary, having experienced the colorful future world, surely her acting skills weren’t inferior to a group of ancient women trapped in their estates?

She heard Zhang Shi say with a laugh, “Qiongyu, I’ve called the person here for you. Now you’ll finally be willing to speak about what exactly happened? What did this maid do to make you even know her name and insist on meeting her?”

It wasn’t Zhang Shi looking to make trouble for her? Mo Zi’s autumn-hued eyes moved subtly—she truly hadn’t expected this.

“You are Mo Zi?” The tone was completely unlike Zhang Shi’s—kind and benevolent.

“Replying to the lady, yes.” Mo Zi knew that the woman called Qiongyu was most likely Lady Wei, Prince Jing’s secondary consort.

“Raise your head and let me see you.” Though Lady Wei’s voice was pleasant, it naturally carried a different kind of authority.

Mo Zi slightly raised her head level, then cleverly used angles to make her features appear as plain as possible.

“Quite a well-behaved appearance. I truly can’t tell you could tell such a wonderful story.” As Mo Zi had predicted, Lady Wei was dressed very plainly, with only a black wood hairpin on her head and a jade-green bracelet on her wrist.

Huh? Still about that story? She had already thrown it to the back of her mind. It wasn’t as if she’d sung the great works of the Immortal Poet Li Bai—no matter how talented Guan Daosheng was, she was still just a woman. Though she’d used this Lock the Southern Branch poem to extricate herself from trouble, she’d been mentally prepared that it would dazzle momentarily then pass like clouds. Now it was being mentioned again, and she seriously doubted her judgment had been mistaken.

“Oh, what remarkable story earned the lady’s praise?” Speaking in a delicate and charming manner with a pleasing appearance was none other than the Qiu family’s Seventh Miss.

However, Seventh Miss’s peach-pink outfit, plus all those hairstyles, jewelry, and ornaments, made Mo Zi’s eyes hurt. There was also Sixth Miss, wearing a lake-water green spring outfit. Her hair had probably used false hairpieces, piled in such complexity, with swaying gold and silver beads that made her simply shimmer and sparkle.

“I don’t have such a clever mouth—I can only listen, not speak.” Lady Wei was devoted to Buddha, and her speech always sounded peaceful. “That’s why I urged your mother to have the person called up.”

Mo Zi immediately thought—surely they won’t make me tell it again?

“If it weren’t for this maid’s story, your Third Uncle would probably have gained another concubine, and I’d have had to expend effort getting rid of her.” Another beautiful woman at the main table spoke.

So this was Wei San’s wife, Lady Shu.

“If this story could have spread earlier, my husband and Second Brother might have married fewer concubines.” This was obviously Lady Wei Da—in her forties, plump and dignified.

The Wei family men had wives and concubines in abundance. Wei San was the exception.

At today’s tables, the older ones were all legitimate wives. Lady Wei was the exception.

“Listening to what you’re saying, even I’m curious about what story it is.” Zhang Shi lifted her handkerchief to cover her laugh, but the gaze she dropped on Mo Zi was sharp. “I see this maid is dull and slow, without the slightest bit of cleverness—how could she have a clever mouth? What are you standing there in a daze for? The ladies want you to speak—why aren’t you hurrying?”

She also took the opportunity to disparage Qiu Sanniang. “Sanniang, how have you taught your maid? She doesn’t understand proper manners at all.”

Qiu Sanniang withdrew her gaze from the theater stage. “Mother speaks correctly.”

She actually acknowledged it so easily.

Mo Zi’s and Qiu Sanniang’s gazes met. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly. She lowered her head so no one could see and said with utmost respect, “Mo Zi is only a rough work maid in the young miss’s courtyard, always led by Sister Bai He, and has seen little of the world. If I get the rules wrong, it’s also because Mo Zi is stupid.”

Qiu Sanniang raised her eyebrows again, her eye line flying upward. This was her most triumphant expression. Mo Zi understood her better than those three maids who had followed her since childhood.

Appearing humble, yet not humble. Appearing weak, yet not truly weak.

That lowered-brow, obedient-eyed Mo Zi simply gave people no faults to pick at. Zhang Shi secretly ground her teeth.