Chapter 10

Chapter 10

At dawn, a fine drizzle drifted through the sky, bringing a chill with it.

Song Yun wore a well-worn jacket, carefully chosen by Nanny Bai and Xing Er. Though it bore no tears and wouldn’t appear disrespectful, the poorly matched colors were hideous, and the cut made him look bulky.

Nanny Bai had initially considered painting freckles on his face, but since many in the inner household had seen him before, she feared that if discovered, it would offend the mistress by making the Bai family appear resistant to the task. Thus, she didn’t take the risk.

After all, for most servants, being chosen to accompany the Eldest Young Master was considered a great fortune. The Bai family’s reluctance would only displease the mistress.

Song Yun glanced at the people gathered before the second gate. The oldest were around seventeen or eighteen, the youngest about eleven or twelve—all newly differentiated Kun Ze. There were six in total. Aside from him and another girl he vaguely recognized, the rest were clearly dressed with care.

Most of them likely wished to become the Eldest Young Master’s companions, Song Yun thought. He silently prayed to the Bodhisattva that they would get their wish.

Soon, the same Nanny Wu from yesterday arrived. She first checked names against the register, then swept a stern gaze over them. Spotting a few who had dared to wear hairpins or rings, she confiscated them personally. After reiterating the rules, she had them line up in order and led them toward the main house of the inner residence.

The main hall was warmed by heating stoves. Though all present were servants of the Ruan family, many had never stepped foot inside the mistress’s quarters or even seen the actual masters of the household. They appeared stiff and nervous.

Song Yun, however, was different. As a child, he had lived in the side chambers near the main house with Ruan Hang. Though he hadn’t visited in years, he wasn’t afraid. He simply followed the line inside.

Passing through the green silk screens and several partitions, they arrived at the mistress’s inner sitting room.

A row of people already knelt there—evidently selected from the inner household’s attendants. Six or seven girls in total.

Song Yun and the others knelt behind them, heads bowed, waiting for the mistress to question them one by one.

Knowing the rules of the upper household, Song Yun didn’t let his gaze wander. Still, as he entered, he caught glimpses of those inside. The highest seat wasn’t occupied by the mistress but by an elderly woman—the mistress’s mother, Madame Qin. The servants referred to her as the Dowager Madame.

Beside her sat the mistress, always well-dressed. Though wearing informal dress today, she still looked elegant. Behind her stood Wei Shi, dressed even more plainly than usual, her hair adorned only with white jade hairpins. Though still beautiful, she appeared humble next to the mistress.

Song Yun hadn’t been in the inner quarters since his teens and hadn’t seen Wei Shi in years. Though older now, she still had her gentle appearance, her presence soothing.

Behind her stood one or two higher-ranking concubines, attending to the mistress. Meanwhile, the Dowager Madame was flanked by several unfamiliar matrons.

The masters chatted and laughed, the atmosphere warm and pleasant. Even Wei Shi, though ill, showed no visible signs of illness, smiling along—perhaps forcing herself.

Song Yun found comfort in Wei Shi’s soft, deferential voice. Nanny Bai had already spoken to her on his behalf, and Wei Shi had promised to help if possible. Though unsure how, Song Yun felt less alone facing the mistress.

Kneeling on the floor, none of them dared move or speak. Nanny Wu called their names one by one, and each stepped forward for inspection.

After the first few, Song Yun figured out the routine: Nanny Wu summoned them, Wei Shi asked questions and examined them, while a matron beside the Dowager Madame commented, discussing each with the mistress and Dowager Madame.

Eyes fixed on the marble floor, Song Yun listened to the evaluations of those before him, his heart heavy.

Since childhood, he had been appraised like this many times. At first, it had been humiliating—he’d even wanted to flee. But after so many repetitions, the shame faded, leaving only a lingering sadness.

Though Song Yun lived comfortably in the Ruan family, moments like these reminded him of his servitude.

He understood now why his parents had gone to such lengths to get him out. If freed from bondage, he’d never again live under others' control.

The mistress and Dowager Madame inspected them meticulously. Out of hundreds of young servants, only a dozen or so Kun Ze had been selected, so each was scrutinized thoroughly—background, appearance, temperament. Nanny Wu even brought records of their rewards and punishments, reading them aloud for all to hear.

Nearly half an hour passed before a dozen had been examined. Five or six were dismissed as unsatisfactory, while three or four deemed acceptable were set aside.

Song Yun was among the last few.

As boys, he and two others were saved for the end—which he thought was good, since if the mistress had already found suitable candidates, she might pay him less attention.

His knees hurt. It had been years since he’d knelt this long. Servants were expected to kneel for everything—holding basins while masters washed face, hands, or feet. But Ruan Hang had never made him do so, so Song Yun had grown unaccustomed to it.

His neck stiffened, but he couldn’t lift his head. To distract himself, he looked closely at the marble patterns beneath him.

He knew these floors well. When Ruan Hang had lived here, the mistress had been strict about his studies. If he failed to recite his lessons, he’d kneel here to memorize them, and Song Yun would kneel beside him. Back then, he’d passed the time tracing the patterns in the stone—clouds, flowers, animals, even faces.

After spotting a third cat-like pattern in the marble, Song Yun finally heard Nanny Wu call his name.

His legs numb, he rose with effort and stepped forward, head still bowed, hands at his sides.

"What duties have you held before?" Wei Shi’s gentle voice asked.

Her voice was pleasant—neither as deep as the master’s nor as high-pitched as the mistress’s, but calm and soothing. It made Song Yun feel less nervous.

"This servant was the Second Young Master’s study companion from childhood until now—nine years in total."

"Ah, I remember you. You’ve grown up, and even handsomer," the mistress remarked amiably.

"Thank you, madam," Song Yun replied timidly. He knew her compliment wasn't necessarily good for him...

"Who are your parents?" Wei Shi continued.

These details were already recorded, but the questions tested their voices, clarity, manners, and wits.

Song Yun answered smoothly.

Next came rewards and punishments. Hesitating, he mumbled, "This servant was punished in school a few times... and other things, but I don’t remember well."

Nanny Bai had told him to act simple-minded, but truthfully, he barely recalled those old incidents—and he was simple enough that no acting was needed.

Nanny Wu read from the records:

"In [year], drew a mustache on the tutor’s face—ten strikes with the ruler. In [year], stole raw dough from the kitchen—kneeled for half an hour. In [year], spilled boiling tea on the young master, leaving blisters—ten lashes. In [year], lit a brazier without a vent, nearly poisoning the young master with fumes—thirty lashes..."

Why were even these things recorded? Song Yun felt deeply ashamed. He could hear muffled laughter around him.

The memory of the brazier incident still stayed with him—he’d grown anxious around charcoal pans ever since. But when had he ever stolen raw dough? If he stole, it’d be something tasty, not uncooked flour!

Even the Dowager Madame and mistress chuckled.

"What an amusing child," the Dowager Madame said.

Amusing? Song Yun fumed inwardly but muttered, "This servant is slow-witted..."

"It’s a wonder Heng’er survived under your care," the mistress joked, in rare good humor.

"The Second Young Master always said I was too stupid to be of use," Song Yun grumbled.

This only made the two madams laugh harder.

The room’s mood lightened, even the kneeling servants stifling giggles.

Only Song Yun remained glum.

The Dowager Madame smiled. "Look up and let us see you."

Song Yun raised his head slightly, his eyes fixed on his mother-in-law's hands.

"What a handsome young man," the old lady said. "Let me take a better look."

For reasons he couldn't explain, Song Yun felt a sinking feeling in his chest. He had never experienced such an emotion when others praised his looks before.

Since the old lady had spoken, Wei Shi had him turn around. When he turned back, she gently asked him to extend his hand. Then, Song Yun felt Wei Shi lightly roll up his sleeve, revealing one of his arms.

Song Yun felt extremely uncomfortable. Though Wei Shi treated him kindly—her hands were warm, not cold, and she didn’t grip him hard enough to hurt—he still felt miserable, so miserable he wanted to cry. Because right now, he felt no different from a side of pork at the butcher's.

Song Yun knew his body was pale and unblemished, without any birthmarks or moles. But at this moment, he took no pride in it at all.

"He’s dressed too heavily—can’t see his waistline," one of the old lady’s maidservants remarked.

"Then take off the outer robe," the old lady said again, still in that kindly tone.