Chapter 15

Zheng Fa watched the slightly stiff back of Manager Wang as he left, his gaze calm.

Behind him, Zheng Mu’s voice carried concern: “He came to ease relations between our families—we’ll keep running into each other. Isn’t it unwise to refuse so bluntly?”

Zheng Fa knew his mother’s gentle nature, how she avoided conflict.

But his younger sister, Zheng Shan, saw things clearly: “A few stinking silver coins—who wants them? The Wang family are no good!”

She clearly still remembered being blocked at the village entrance by Wang Gui.

Zheng Fa patted his sister’s head and explained to his mother:

“Manager Wang probably has no good intentions. I was just chosen by Lady Zhao to be Seventh Young Master’s attendant, and he brazenly offers me someone else’s silver—what does that look like?”

This was completely different from what Huang Yu’s family had sent.

Huang Yu’s father had sent simple brushes, ink, paper, and a few bolts of coarse cloth—worthless, but useful.

But Manager Wang… a whole sack of silver—too conspicuous.

It’s more likely a case of flattering to destroy.

In the end, one seeks genuine goodwill, the other harbors malice.

Zheng Mu froze, beginning to understand; her gaze toward Zheng Fa turned unexpectedly tender: “You’ve truly grown up.”

Zheng Fa nodded with a smile, unashamed: “Mother, don’t worry—I’ll earn you even more silver later!”

He knew: his mother had always lived in fear; the more confident he appeared, the more at ease she became.

In truth, he’d also meant to scare her a little—he wasn’t certain whether Manager Wang truly intended to flatter him into ruin, but he knew he had no reason to risk himself over these silver coins.

His younger sister nodded beside him: “Mother, I’ll earn you silver too—no more Wang family money!”

Her small face was set with determination.

Zheng Mu gave her a scolding look: “Stop being greedy—I’d be thankful if you just stopped eating so much!”

Zheng Fa picked up his sister and bounced her lightly, laughing: “You’ve gotten heavier! And maybe even taller.”

He remembered something else: “The cloth Huang family sent—Mother, give me two sets of clothes, and use the rest to make new ones for you and Shan.”

Zheng Mu refused: “That’s for you—they gave it to you. And you’re going to the Zhao household; you need more clothes, to look respectable.”

“I’m just an attendant, not some big shot—what’s respectable?” Zheng Fa pinched the tiny braid on his sister’s head. “Besides, we haven’t had new clothes in years.”

“New clothes!”

Hearing those three words, Zheng Shan raised both arms in excitement in Zheng Fa’s arms.

She was overjoyed.

“Then I’ll make you two sets, and the rest for your sister—I won’t take any,” Zheng Mu decided firmly.

…

After three days at home, Zheng Fa put on his new clothes and bid his mother farewell again.

This time, Zheng Mu’s eyes were slightly red.

According to Zhao family rules, Zheng Fa would study and train with Seventh Young Master, returning home only once every six days.

If Zheng Fa remained in this attendant role, for years to come, he’d spend most of his time inside the Zhao household.

Zheng Shan had been especially happy these past few days—there was good food, and Mother had made her new clothes.

Wang Gui no longer dared to bully her.

Yet now she clung to Zheng Fa’s knees, wailing:

“I don’t want city meat anymore!”

“I don’t want new clothes!”

“I don’t want Brother to go to the Zhao house!”

The old man who came to fetch Zheng Fa—the same one who drove the ox cart—smoked his pipe, watching the scene, and said hesitantly: “Little Zheng, we must leave. We can’t keep the noble family waiting.”

Zheng Fa lifted Zheng Shan and placed her in his mother’s arms, then nodded to Zheng Mu, whose eyes were red but silent.

Zheng Shan’s crying grew louder; Zheng Fa held back and did not turn back.

The driver gave the ox’s rump a light lash and spoke as if to Zheng Fa: “Little Zheng, this is your first time leaving home?”

“Mm.” Zheng Fa didn’t feel like talking.

“When I was young, the first time I drove the cart, my mother watched me like this…” The old man drew on his pipe. “But young men want to leave, want to do great things. Still—if you can turn back, you should look back more often.”

Zheng Fa turned and looked at the two figures still gazing after the cart.

The driver’s muttering followed him: “Old man like me? Now I’d give anything to turn back and see my mother again—but I can’t.”

Zheng Fa opened the large bundle on his back, revealing a smaller one inside: “Last time you said you liked my mother’s stitching—she made more.”

The old man stared, then turned to look at Zheng Fa.

“You really believe I like your mother’s stitching?”

“My mother believes it.”

“You didn’t tell her?”

“Letting her make these gives her peace.”

The old man sat silent for a moment, then picked up a bun from the bundle and bit into it: “You’re stronger than I was at your age.”

…

When the cart reached the Zhao household, they entered again through the back gate.

This time, Gao Yuan was waiting.

Gao Yuan wore a scholar’s robe, carrying a delicate bamboo book case.

Zheng Fa wore coarse cloth, carrying the blue cloth bundle his mother had prepared.

They exchanged glances; Gao Yuan seemed slightly embarrassed.

“Hurry, Seventh Young Master is waiting for us.”

The moment he saw them, Gao Yuan hurriedly said, and the two headed toward Seventh Young Master’s residence.

The Zhao household was vast.

Seventh Young Master’s quarters were deep within.

By the time Zheng Fa and Gao Yuan arrived, their backs were soaked in sweat.

Seventh Young Master’s courtyard—no, it should be called a mansion.

It was a classic three-hall courtyard; beyond, it seemed to include its own garden.

A courtyard within a courtyard.

Clearly, Seventh Young Master held high status and favor in the Zhao household.

To the right of the main gate hung a brown wooden plaque with three characters:

“Unenvying Immortal”

Zheng Fa thought inwardly: in a world ruled by immortal sects, such arrogance was truly bold.

The courtyard gate stood slightly ajar; Gao Yuan stepped forward and knocked gently.

The door opened a crack; a maid peeked out, recognized them at once: “New attendants? Come in—the Young Master is waiting.”

As Zheng Fa and Gao Yuan entered the courtyard, they immediately noticed a striking feature:

No men.

The guides, cleaners, servants coming and going—all were young maids.

Zheng Fa was fine; Gao Yuan had kept his eyes straight ahead the whole way, tense.

Seventh Young Master would receive them in the outer courtyard’s study; the maid led them to the study door.

A man sat in a chair, deeply absorbed in reading an ancient text.

Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass window onto his white robe, casting faint silver glimmers; his features appeared refined and pale.

Even if Seventh Young Master had a bad reputation, Zheng Fa couldn’t help but admire—this fellow had excellent looks.

As if hearing their footsteps, Seventh Young Master lifted his eyes toward Zheng Fa and Gao Yuan.

Seeing them, he smiled broadly, rose, and strode over, warmly saying: “You two are my new attendants? Gao Yuan?”

He pointed at Gao Yuan, then at Zheng Fa: “Zheng Fa? Right?”

He’d already memorized their names.

“I’ve been waiting for you!” Seventh Young Master seemed overjoyed—he tossed the book aside, rushed forward to greet them, even kindly took Gao Yuan’s book case.

Gao Yuan’s face flushed with excitement.

“Put your things down first—I’ll treat you both to a meal at Yanyu Pavilion to welcome you!”

Even Zheng Fa was stunned.

Seventh Young Master was too enthusiastic.

On the other hand, Yanyu Pavilion—wasn’t that the most famous brothel in Jingzhou City?

Was this the attendant’s employee benefit? So… indecent?

Glancing at Gao Yuan beside him, his face suddenly turned pale: “Seventh Young Master, your last attendant was sent back after being beaten for luring you to Yanyu Pavilion, wasn’t he?”

Seventh Young Master froze, dropped the book case to the ground, and clapped his hands.

“You’ve got good information.” His smile slowly vanished: “So—do you two leave on your own, or like the last fool, get beaten and thrown out?”

The book case crashed to the floor and cracked.

Just like Gao Yuan’s expression.