16 Magpie

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At this moment, his eagerness to learn was palpable; his eyes sparkled brightly, and his appearance was so endearing that he resembled a little puppy begging its master for food. Ye Jinghua lowered his gaze upon him, not rushing to respond, but simply offered a slight smile.

Zhao Baozhu, impatient by nature, grew even more urgent when met with silence. “My good young master, please teach me, just teach me,” he pleaded, his voice tinged with a coquettish tone born of desperation.

Ye Jinghua, seeing him like this, felt refreshed, as if drinking a pot of sweet osmanthus soup on a scorching day. He couldn’t help but tease him further: “I do want to teach you, but I still have to write a preface for a travelogue, so I have no time.”

Zhao Baozhu froze momentarily before lowering his head and pressing his lips together. “...Since the young master has matters to attend to, then so be it.”

Ye Jinghua saw the drooping eyes and brows full of regret, and quickly comforted him, “I was just joking. I already sent out the preface earlier; you must have been too focused on writing to notice.”

At this, Zhao Baozhu suddenly lifted his head, his eyes brightening: “Really?”

Ye Jinghua’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “No more lies.” He gestured toward the bookshelf. “Bring the middle and last volumes as well.”

Zhao Baozhu hurried over and brought the upper, middle, and lower volumes. As he approached, he realized that Ye Jinghua had just teased him, and with a snap, his large eyes lifted, glaring at Ye Jinghua with mock annoyance. Ye Jinghua smiled indulgently, flipped open the middle volume, and pointed to a passage. “Start annotating this section first.”

Once he had the books in hand, Zhao Baozhu forgot all about Ye Jinghua’s earlier jest and immediately immersed himself in the sea of knowledge.

·

Over the following days, Zhao Baozhu gradually became Ye Jinghua’s book attendant. Though called a book attendant, Ye Jinghua spent most days either reading leisure books, composing poetry and letters for friends, or copying obscure travelogues. Apart from grinding ink, he didn’t require much assistance. In fact, Ye Jinghua spent more time teaching Zhao Baozhu to read than having him serve.

From initial nervousness, Zhao Baozhu grew accustomed to this routine. Whatever Ye Jinghua asked for—books, brushes, or ink—he gave without hesitation. Zhao Baozhu, unable to refuse, resigned himself to the habit, simply planning to sell off these items for silver once he entered official service.

One day, a flock of magpies suddenly flew out from a neighboring family’s courtyard and settled stubbornly in the front yard. Deng Yun, Fang Qin, Fang Li, and others busied themselves trying to catch the birds with cages and return them. Zhao Baozhu was called to help.

Ye Jinghua remembered his tender age and, seeing the overcast sky, let him go out.

In the courtyard, Deng Yun and Fang Qin were running around in circles, unable to catch a single magpie. Zhao Baozhu approached quietly, crouched low with his back curved, and followed the birds silently. He then used corn to divert their attention and, when a bird pecked at the grain, pounced and grasped its neck firmly.

His movements were fluid and natural. Deng Yun and Fang Qin stood behind him, mouths agape, amazed that Zhao Baozhu could catch birds without even needing a cage. Deng Yun crossed his arms and turned to Fang Qin with a sigh: “Look at that—a real cat in disguise.”

Fang Qin chuckled lightly, shaking his head. Zhao Baozhu caught several birds in succession, and hearing their remarks, turned sharply to glare at Deng Yun: “You’re no help at all, so why are you just standing there blocking my way?”

Deng Yun’s eyes widened in displeasure: “Hey, Baozhu. You call out ‘Brother Qin’ on one side and ‘Brother Li’ on the other. Why not a kind word for me?”

He smiled and pointed to himself. “I’m two years older than you—you can call me Brother Yun.”

Zhao Baozhu snorted, “I won’t!” and turned his head away. He still remembered that day when he fainted and Deng Yun called him dirty and smelly.

Deng Yun, hurt that Zhao Baozhu treated him differently, felt his chest ache with frustration. Rolling up his sleeves, he pretended to grab him: “You brat! Just wait till I teach you a lesson!”

Fang Qin hurried over to calm him. “Why bother arguing with him? Neither of you is sensible.” Then he pushed Deng Yun outside. “We still have accounts to settle. Let’s go check. He can catch the birds himself.”

Reluctantly, Deng Yun followed. After they left, Zhao Baozhu was alone in the courtyard. He caught all the magpies, but one particularly lively magpie with full plumage led him down a small alley. After some effort, he caught it.

Setting the bird in its cage, Zhao Baozhu looked up and suddenly noticed a small window on the wall. He blinked, realizing the window must be on the side of the study, just above the soft couch Ye Jinghua often sat on. A mischievous idea sparked in his mind. Since Ye Jinghua frequently scared him for fun, today he would return the favor.

Zhao Baozhu placed the cage down, using both hands and feet, stepping on a lamp near the corner of the wall to climb up. Grasping the windowsill, he peered down and indeed saw Ye Jinghua reclining on the soft couch, reading a miscellaneous record.

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Zhao Baozhu’s eyes curved in mischief. He held his breath and watched Ye Jinghua closely for a moment. Suddenly, before Ye Jinghua was aware, he called out, “Young master!”

At his call, Ye Jinghua’s hand paused mid-turn of a page and raised his head.

The youth at the bedside showed only his face, his almond-shaped eyes filled with cunning, smiling at him with two small dimples gracing his cheek.

For a moment, Ye Jinghua was lost in thought at the sight of him. Then, the lively and handsome youth raised an eyebrow and said, “Did I scare my young master this time?”

He pouted playfully, laughing softly, “You often scare me; today, I return the favor.”

Ye Jinghua’s lashes fluttered, the surprise in his eyes melting away, and a smile like thawing ice appeared on his refined face. “Yes. This time, you scared me.”

Hearing this, Zhao Baozhu’s smile deepened, a triumphant glint shining in his eyes.

At the door, Steward Li was about to enter to remind the young master it was time for lunch. Halfway over the threshold, he looked up, saw the scene, and uttered an amused “Oh!” before retreating with a smile.

Behind him, Deng Yun peeked around nervously. “Steward Li, where is the young master eating today? Here or in the main hall?”

“Humph,” Li frowned and scolded, “You’ll find out later.”

Didn’t you see the young master is happily dining?

Inside, Ye Jinghua set the book down and rose from the soft couch. “Come down quickly. What are you clinging to? Be careful not to fall.”

Zhao Baozhu chuckled. “I won’t fall, young master, don’t worry.” Then he loosened one hand and pulled out a magpie from his pocket. “Look, young master, I caught all the magpies.”

Ye Jinghua frowned slightly and lightly chided, “Nonsense. If you fall, you’ll know the pain.”

Zhao Baozhu pouted, “I won’t fall. Look at this magpie, it’s especially big.”

Ye Jinghua could not help but coax him. “I see. Baozhu, you’re really impressive. Now come down quickly; lunch will be served soon.”

At the mention of food, Zhao Baozhu’s eyes lit up. “Oh!” He jumped down from the wall. Just as he was about to run off with the cage, Ye Jinghua’s voice came from the window: “Don’t touch the birds again. We’ll have Deng Yun take care of them later. Go wash your hands first.”

Zhao Baozhu froze, thinking Ye Jinghua sometimes seemed to have eyes on his forehead. He called back from a distance, set the cage down, and went to the spring to wash his hands.

·

A short while later, lunch was laid out in the main hall.

A line of maidservants entered gracefully, dressed in cloud-colored robes, carrying small plates of exquisite dishes. The colors, aromas, and flavors were all impeccable, making Zhao Baozhu’s eyes gleam with desire.

Ye Jinghua, seated at the head, appeared to have little appetite. He first washed his hands with the water the maidservants brought, then slowly sipped hot tea before starting to pick at the dishes. His manners were elegant and refined, befitting a young master of a noble family, but his way of eating was rather off-putting.

He held his chopsticks in one hand and a book in the other, flipping three pages before taking a bite. His chopsticks never reached far; if not for Fang Qin placing dishes before him, he wouldn’t even move them.

No matter how many times Zhao Baozhu saw this, he couldn’t bear it. The dish he longed for most—lion’s head meatballs—remained untouched by Ye Jinghua, whose eyes seemed ready to pop from their sockets. Was this man truly some immortal being nourished by dew?

The servants stood silently with bowed heads, but Zhao Baozhu alone stared wide-eyed at Ye Jinghua, fuming at his lack of appetite. The peasant blood in him could not help but grit his teeth in frustration.

Growing up, such conduct at the table would have earned a beating with chopsticks on the rear.

Zhao Baozhu’s anger went unnoticed; Fang Qin had already glared at him several times.

At that moment, perhaps due to the intensity of his gaze, Ye Jinghua suddenly turned his head and looked at him with sparkling eyes. Zhao Baozhu froze, quickly lowered his head, and glanced cautiously at Ye Jinghua, wondering if his thoughts had been read.

Next, Ye Jinghua smiled warmly and beckoned him over.

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Seeing the smile, as gentle as a breeze, Zhao Baozhu’s mind went blank, forgetting everything. He walked over in a daze.

Ye Jinghua had changed chopsticks and picked up a soft chunk of lion’s head meatball, placing it near Zhao Baozhu’s mouth.

“Eat.”

Zhao Baozhu’s eyes widened. Looking at the meatball, he hesitated. Yet the aroma was so enticing that he wrinkled his nose in delight.

Ye Jinghua chuckled softly at his puppy-like reaction and whispered, “Eat quickly, or it will get cold.”

Under the combined assault of beauty and delicious food, Zhao Baozhu felt dizzy and eagerly took a bite. The taste was unlike anything he had experienced before—the meatball, simmered in rich broth, melted in his mouth without a trace of fishiness.

He lifted his head, eyes shining brighter than the sunlight outside. “Delicious!”

Hearing him murmur as he ate, Fang Qin’s brows furrowed tighter. How could a master feed his servant like this?

Ye Jinghua glanced at him subtly, not fully satisfied but still handed the chopsticks to Zhao Baozhu and pushed a small dish of steamed fish slices toward him. “Eat.”

Having tasted the first bite, Zhao Baozhu no longer restrained himself, looking at Ye Jinghua before burying his head in the food. The more he ate, the more he wondered if the inn’s chef had been summoned from the celestial palace. How could such a small dish be so exquisitely delicious it made one want to bite off their own tongue?

Unlike Ye Jinghua’s slow, deliberate eating, Zhao Baozhu ate quickly and heartily, yet without any roughness. His rosy cheeks, filled with food, made him look utterly endearing.

Ye Jinghua leaned back in his chair, a faint smile in his eyes as he watched Zhao Baozhu eat. He even set aside his book. Whenever Zhao Baozhu finished a dish, Ye Jinghua would promptly push another forward.

One fed, one ate—it was a surprisingly harmonious scene. Fang Qin was pale with frustration, but no one paid attention to his feelings.

Suddenly, a stumbling figure rushed into the main hall, breaking the peaceful atmosphere. Steward Li’s brow twitched as a young servant in blue clothing, sweating profusely, hurried inside.

“Why the rush like a headless chicken? Don’t you see the young master is eating?” Li scolded.

The servant looked up, too flustered even to wipe the sweat from his brow, his face strained. “Steward Li, madam has arrived!”

Li froze. Zhao Baozhu, with cheeks still full, looked up and saw Deng Yun and Fang Qin standing on either side, both with startled expressions. He blinked in confusion.

Where had this madam come from?

Before they could react, a woman in splendid attire gracefully entered. She wore a long robe of deep blue embroidered with golden patterns, and her hair ornaments glittered in the sunlight, obscuring her face momentarily.

Her presence was commanding as she immediately fixed her gaze on Ye Jinghua. Zhao Baozhu, caught in the intensity of her eyes and aura, dared not even chew the food in his mouth.

Ye Jinghua’s expression remained composed. He turned and discreetly shielded Zhao Baozhu, speaking softly to the woman, “Mother.”

The beautiful woman was none other than Ye Jinghua’s mother. Zhao Baozhu was astonished and sensed the subtle shift in the room’s atmosphere. He stepped back quietly to the corner.

Due to the backlighting, Zhao Baozhu could not discern the woman’s facial expression, only noticing the delicate jewels adorning her hair gently quivering.

Then, she suddenly stepped briskly into the room and embraced Ye Jinghua: “My son!”

Her flowing sleeves fluttered gracefully. With fingertips delicately tinted with rouge, she caressed Ye Jinghua’s face, sorrowful. “Mother didn’t know what kind of life you’ve been living here. Mother has been so foolish!”