Chapter 49: Hua Lan Selects Maids

“Grandmother, it’s freezing cold—unless the governor’s eldest daughter took the initiative to host, I wouldn’t go at all.”

Hua Lan handed her cloak to Fang Mama, set down her hand warmer, and walked to her grandmother’s side.

Lady Sheng reached out and touched Hua Lan’s clothing.

“How is it? Is the white cotton fleece warm enough?”

Hua Lan nodded vigorously, her eyes shining.

“Grandmother, it’s wonderfully warm.”

“Several sisters from Yangzhou asked what’s inside—it’s so warm.”

“What did you tell them?”

“Hehe, Grandmother, I said it was a novel gift sent by relatives from Bianjing.”

“It really made me look good.”

“You, you’re something else.”

The grandmother and granddaughter laughed together.

On ordinary days, Hua Lan was never the type to draw attention.

The old lady would teach her to understand the purpose behind these gatherings.

Some were merely idle amusement among noble daughters,

where they competed to outshine one another,

and show off.

But gatherings with intent might be a noble daughter’s attempt to craft a certain image.

Hua Lan naturally needed to temper her brilliance and keep low, to give face.

The next day,

Lin Qige,

Lin Qinshuang listened to her maid Xue Niang’s words, her face darkening.

She slammed her teacup onto the table, anger mounting in her eyes,

“That old woman—my Mo’er is also the Master’s daughter!

Why would such rare treasures be given only to Hua Lan?”

“Back then she stubbornly cut ties with the Hou Fu, and now she’s clinging to them.”

“Little Lady, watch your tongue.”

Mo Lan, nearby, was carefully copying calligraphy; hearing her mother’s words, she looked puzzled.

“What exactly did the folks from Youyang send? Did you find out?”

Xue Niang shook her head.

“Little Lady, the maids in Shou’an Hall are famously tight-lipped—we couldn’t find out anything.

We only guessed when we saw Great Master Xu carrying something inside.

But the eldest miss mentioned a few things at the governor’s daughter’s gathering.”

Lin Qige glanced at her.

“I was once a daughter of an official household in Bianjing—I know very few things I haven’t heard.”

“They say it’s white cotton fleece.”

Lin Qinshuang looked bewildered.

“Huh?”

Morning,

Bianjing,

Quyuanjie,

Yongyi Hou Fu—Xu Zaijing mustered immense willpower to drag himself out of his warm bedding.

Dressed, Qingyun brought hot water from the stove; after washing his face, Xu Zaijing and Qingyun headed to the riding ground.

The sky was still dark; lanterns glowed faintly in the stable. The horses snorted white plumes as they ate from their troughs.

Xu Zaijing looked up at the high moon, exhaling a soft white breath.

Since arriving in this world, what he loved most to gaze upon was the bright moon.

Second only to that were blue skies and white clouds.

These were the two things most like those of his past life on Earth.

As a youth educated under compulsory schooling, seeing the moon naturally brought to mind one line:

“When did the bright moon appear? I raise my cup and ask the blue heavens.”

And the air—during mornings, after rain, after snow—

tasted exactly as it had in his past life.

Over these years, Xu Zaijing had quietly tested his strength.

As a boy under ten, his power was astonishing.

He maintained such disciplined physical and martial training

partly to strengthen his body and boost immunity,

but also to acquire means of self-defense.

Killing techniques are always steady, precise, and brutal—striking vital points.

Steady, precise, brutal—these demands help Xu Zaijing better control his body.

With astonishing, enduring strength and exceptional control, he could effortlessly extinguish life.

Xu Zaijing remembered a line from a film in his past life:

“Having a sword and not using it is entirely different from having no sword at all.”

As he walked across the riding ground, Qingyun behind him asked:

“Young Master, what shall we practice today?”

“Sword and shield.”

“Yes.”

Qingyun, four or five years older than Xu Zaijing, had begun to grow tall; fortunately, the Hou Fu’s meals were good, and he hadn’t grown thin.

Their sparring was like an adult fighting a child in the Great Xu Dynasty’s terms.

While Xu Zaijing warmed up, Qingyun brought over the sword-and-shield set.

But Qingyun’s face showed caution.

Once during practice, his young master hadn’t held back—he used only three-tenths of his strength,

yet Qingyun, holding his shield, felt as if a horse had slammed into him.

The shield shattered, and he flew over two zhang away.

Though straw piles cushioned the fall,

Qingyun’s throat turned sweet, his chest and back ached from the impact.

Luckily, his leather armor blocked the shield shards,

or else he’d have lain in the clinic for who knew how long.

Since then, practice had shifted: Qingyun shot arrows at Xu Zaijing from a distance, using adult-level strength,

or threw short spears, flying daggers, flying axes.

Xu Zaijing trained to quickly discern the direction of force and deflect it with minimal effort.

As they trained vigorously, Xu Zaijing’s ear twitched—he rolled instantly to dodge.

“Master, that’s not fair!” Xu Zaijing cried.

The stable hand nearby shook his head disinterestedly.

The ambush failed.

His disciple, even against his own healthy self in his prime, had crushed him.

He hoped Yongyi Marquis Xu Minghua wouldn’t suddenly decide to spar with his son,

or else he’d be utterly humiliated by his own child.

Xu Zaijing had broken a light sweat; Qingyun was panting.

After training, they left the riding ground.

The kitchen hearth at the Hou Fu connected to an adjacent room.

The flue ran beneath the room’s floor, so the room was very warm.

Inside stood a bathtub; Xu Zaijing washed himself, then Qingyun washed nearby.

Afterward, Xu Zaijing’s family ate breakfast,

preparing to join his two older brothers in the courtyard’s study hall.

At that moment, a gatekeeper’s boy arrived at the courtyard gate.

“Lady, a matchmaker’s old woman is at the gate—says she was referred by Wu Da Niangzi.”

“Show her to the outer courtyard.”

Si Hour (before 11 a.m.),

Xu Zaijing and his two brothers returned from the study hall to the inner courtyard for lunch,

where Sun Da Niangzi’s courtyard now held eight or nine girls of varying ages, all standing solemnly in the yard.

The household servant said these girls had just been purchased from the broker’s office.

Broker’s offices were like modern intermediaries; most of the girls they tricked or abducted ended up sold to brothels.

Those with clear origins who could be traced,

such as those whose families had suffered disasters and could no longer afford to feed them,

were sent to the households of noble officials, signed into contracts, and received monthly stipends from their masters.

A few years ago, the Xu family had declined and earned little income,

so only Sun Shi had four senior maidservants,

back when the Yongyi Marquis House was at its peak, how many maids did that legitimate daughter have in her courtyard?

Roughly over fifty, according to the old servants of the Marquis House.

The other four of Xu Zai’s siblings,

except for the youngest, Xu Zaijing,

each had only one personal maid.

In the past two or three years, the Xu family’s finances had improved,

and as Xu Zaijing grew older, Sun Shi had finally arranged to buy him a personal attendant.

The other four children also needed servants for cleaning, laundry, and future dowry attendants.

Raising them from childhood was always better than buying them outright.

Xu Zaijing’s young servant, Qingyun, was already fifteen or sixteen,

but some matters were still more convenient handled by a female attendant.

The broker’s matron introduced by Wu Dangzi was experienced in this trade.

According to the steward of the Yongchang Marquis House, this was another marquis household,

and the girls brought over had all been trained and came from clean backgrounds,

including five or six girls aged seven or eight with beautiful features.

As expected, twenty were brought; the Xu family kept nine,

three of whom had beautiful features.

Sun Shi looked at her three sons,

lifted her chin:

“These are the new servants in our household. Duan Ge, you’re the eldest—choose first.

Xiao Zhu, have them raise their heads.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Yes, Lady Sun.”

Xu Zaijing naturally did not object to this practice.

Because under the productive conditions of this era,

any natural disaster or human calamity meant ruin for an ordinary family.

Even without disaster, simply having one more child could make survival impossible.

Wei Xiao Niang’s family had only one member seriously ill, yet they still sold themselves to save their father.

For the poor, selling oneself into service was a path to survival.

After Xu Zaijing’s older siblings had chosen, two of the three beautiful girls remained.

Clearly, his siblings were yielding to Xu Zaijing.

Xu Zaijing stood before the courtyard, gazing at the young maids below, feeling uneasy.

“I’m selecting company subordinates, company subordinates,” Xu Zaijing thought to himself.

Indeed, new hires always panic when they overfocus on the numbers.

It’s been several chapters since I proofread my own work.

Most silent readers come quietly, vote quietly, support quietly; if they dislike it, they leave quietly.

I’m wrong! I apologize!

The data I’ve seen these past few days feels alarming. Thank you all readers for your tips and support.

I’ll add one extra chapter.

Keep storing drafts!

I’m muttering to myself—I won’t make it to this third round of recommendations.

Mo Lan’s tone: I want to go.





(End of Chapter)