Chapter 3: The Ye Family

The reason Zhao Baozhu fainted would later be scientifically identified as hypoglycemia.

With his eyes tightly shut, he felt something cool pressed against his lips in the darkness. Sweet sugar water trickled through, fed to him through the gap of his lips. Tasting the sweetness, Zhao Baozhu hummed softly, still dazed, but instinctively tilted his head back to suck the sugar water from the spoon.

“Oh dear, oh dear—”

Seeing him begging like a small puppy, a slightly calloused hand reached over and gently touched his cheek.

“Where did this little boy come from? You’ve really suffered.”

A soft female voice whispered in his ear. Still dizzy, the sound seemed muffled, as if separated by a veil. Then another person approached and stopped beside him—a man’s voice spoke:

“Aunt Qi, this kid’s filthy. Why are you holding him? I heard he’s a refugee from outside, don’t know what diseases he might be carrying—”

His tone was thick with obvious disdain and contempt. Hearing this, the older woman’s voice suddenly rose sharply:

“I don’t care! If you have nothing better to do, get out of the way!” Then she turned back to continue feeding Zhao Baozhu sugar water, muttering under her breath: “These days, the sun’s harsh, and people like you with bad hearts just rely on the young master to keep you alive. Out there, you’d have been dealt with long ago.”

The man was scolded fiercely and grunted twice, falling silent.

After drinking the sugar water, Zhao Baozhu immediately felt much better. His eyelashes fluttered lightly as he opened his eyes to see an elderly woman looking at him with a worried expression.

“I...” Zhao Baozhu saw the pale sunlight wavering before his eyes, and the woman’s face appeared doubled several times. “What... what’s wrong with me?”

Through the blurred vision, he saw the old woman open her mouth as if to say something. But before she could speak, Zhao Baozhu suddenly felt a powerful grip on his arm, yanking him roughly out of the woman’s embrace.

The person holding him glanced at his dirty, tattered clothes with obvious disgust and clicked his tongue sharply, barking:

“Stand properly!”

Zhao Baozhu, already weak from low blood sugar, felt dizzy and unsteady when suddenly pulled up. He was sliding down limply, forcing the man to catch him with both hands. His expression twisted with annoyance:

“Dirty and stinking! I don’t know why the young master even brought you back—”

He complained nonstop as he roughly grabbed Zhao Baozhu, dragging him inside, kicking open a door, and throwing him in.

“Bang!”

With a crisp splash, Zhao Baozhu’s knee hit something hard, and he choked on hot water. Struggling, he propped himself up with his hands and looked up to find himself thrown into a large wooden bathtub.

Outside the door, a man in a blue robe covered his nose with his hand, frowning at him sharply.

“Wash yourself properly! If I find even a speck of dirt, you’ll be in trouble!”

With that, he slammed the door shut.

The room darkened instantly. Zhao Baozhu blinked, gradually regaining his senses. Looking down, he saw his clothes soaked and clinging to his body. Hastily, he stripped off the ragged garment—not much better than the one he wore—and tossed it out of the tub. Moments later, he was soaking naked in warm water.

Feeling the hot water enveloping his skin, Zhao Baozhu’s chill from before was instantly driven away. He lifted his head amid the moist steam and slowly exhaled.

So comfortable.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he had bathed. Zhao Baozhu thought. Firewood was precious in their small mountain village; they couldn’t waste it just to warm water for bathing in winter. In summer, people could bathe in the stream, but in winter, many went half a month without washing. Only his father cared for him enough to prepare a small basin of warm water every other day, knowing how much Zhao Baozhu liked cleanliness.

But on this journey to the capital for the imperial examination, without his father, he had truly suffered. Often, there was barely enough food for the next meal, let alone the luxury of bathing!

---

Wiping his face, Zhao Baozhu sighed with relief, feeling much of the exhaustion from days of travel melt away. To avoid slipping, he gripped the rim of the wooden tub, noticing its sturdy texture. He tapped the inside wall, thinking the wood was so strong it could easily be made into a pig trough.

The capital was truly different. Even a random inn had such fine conditions.

Only the waiter’s attitude left something to be desired.

Recalling the blue-robed man’s stern glare earlier, Zhao Baozhu pursed his lips. But since the man had kindly taken him in when he fainted, he couldn’t complain. If it had been one of the more upscale taverns earlier, he would have been thrown out to fend for himself.

While pondering this, Zhao Baozhu found a bar of soap near the tub. Remembering the waiter’s words, he thoroughly scrubbed himself from head to toe, ensuring not a single speck of dirt remained, before stepping out of the tub.

Standing there dripping wet, he suddenly noticed his clothes had become nothing more than a tattered rag, which annoyed him—this was the only set of clothes he had.

But soon, he spotted a neatly folded set of clean white clothes on a small wooden stool beside the tub. This inn not only had good facilities but also attentive service.

All his worries vanished. He hurriedly put on the clothes and tied his damp hair back with a cloth strip, then pushed the door open.

At the door, the blue-robed man stood with arms crossed, one foot propped against the wall, looking very impatient.

Hearing the door open, he clicked his tongue and turned his head, still muttering: “Are you clean now? If I find out—”

His voice abruptly stopped.

Zhao Baozhu blinked at the doorway. Though the waiter had a rough attitude, Zhao Baozhu believed in repaying kindness with gratitude and quietly said, “Did you prepare these clothes? Thank you.”

The man stared at him for a long while, finally muttering with his eyes lowered, “...They’re pretty white after washing.”

His voice was so low Zhao Baozhu could barely hear. “What?”

The blue-robed man glanced back and gave him a look before turning away without another word, beckoning Zhao Baozhu to follow.

Puzzled, Zhao Baozhu followed, thinking the waiter’s moods were unpredictable; he really couldn’t figure out the temperament of people from the capital. The man walked quickly down the corridor, the scenery flying past. Zhao Baozhu followed, eyes wide, marveling at the carved corridors and painted eaves.

This inn was enormous, with uniform white walls and black tiles. Even in the cold northern winter, Zhao Baozhu saw several evergreen trees. He looked left and right, losing count of how many courtyards they had passed.

The blue-robed man walked fast, forcing Zhao Baozhu to jog to keep up. He thought northern people were just tall and sturdy, then asked:

“May I ask your name? I’m Zhao Baozhu.”

He looked around and asked, “Where are we going?”

Without stopping, the man glanced at him, still somewhat disdainful but with a softened tone:

“My name is Fang Li. I’m taking you to your residence.”

Zhao Baozhu paused. “How much does a room cost here for one night?”

Fang Li stopped, turned to look at him, frowning:

“You still want to pay? Our young master already took you in and fed you—what more do you want? Someone like you—”

He gave Zhao Baozhu a critical once-over, but when he saw his face, his expression faltered. He swallowed the harsh words and said instead:

“You... there are many here in the capital who look better than you! Don’t get arrogant!”

Zhao Baozhu was confused. “Brother Fang, what do you mean? I’m just asking about the price for lodging.”

Fang Li was stunned, his anger frozen in a ridiculous expression.

“...What did you just call me?”

After a moment, he said.

Zhao Baozhu blinked twice.

“Brother Fang.” He sized Fang Li up. “I thought you were older than me? Am I wrong? I was born in the ninth year of Yuan Zhi.”

Fang Li’s expression stiffened. Born in the ninth year of Yuan Zhi meant he was sixteen. He looked at Zhao Baozhu and snorted coldly:

“I’m naturally older. I’m already nineteen.” He looked at Zhao Baozhu disdainfully. “Calling me Brother Fang sounds so formal.”

Unexpectedly, Zhao Baozhu replied brightly:

“Then I’ll call you Brother Fang!”

Fang Li’s eyes widened in surprise as he stared at Zhao Baozhu. The boy’s glossy black eyes looked at him earnestly, cheeks faintly flushed.

“...Call me whatever you want.” Fang Li turned his head and continued walking, muttering, “You think the Ye family is some kind of place? Just do your work properly, and you won’t go hungry.”

Following him, Zhao Baozhu suddenly understood: the inn’s owner was having him work to pay for lodging! This was perfect for Zhao Baozhu, who surely couldn’t afford the inn’s fees otherwise. Looking at the finely crafted stone beams around him, he realized he was in a rather upscale place.

The owner was truly kind. Zhao Baozhu remembered the white-robed young gentleman he vaguely saw before fainting and thought he should thank him in person someday.

Fang Li led him through multiple courtyard gates to the back of the residence. By now, Zhao Baozhu was utterly disoriented, unable to tell where he had come from.

“This will be your room from now on.”

Fang Li stopped before a door and pushed it open. Zhao Baozhu peeked inside to see a bed, a wooden table, an eight-drawer cabinet against the wall, and a small window letting in a gentle breeze.

“Wow,” Zhao Baozhu exclaimed, “this is really nice!”

The room was small but fully furnished. The items showed signs of use but were well kept. Zhao Baozhu eagerly stepped inside, touching the wooden bedpost with satisfaction. This was much better than his room back home!

Seeing Zhao Baozhu’s curious but unpretentious demeanor—not the kind to be vain or picky in the Ye household—Fang Li’s tense expression softened slightly. He knocked on the wooden door frame.

“Get some rest early today,” Fang Li said. “Work starts tomorrow. The backyard servants rise at the break of dawn. No slacking off.”

Zhao Baozhu put down the blanket, turned, and nodded.

“Understood. I won’t be late.”

Seeing his obedient attitude, Fang Li finally relaxed. Pausing before leaving, he turned back.

“...If you don’t feel well at night, come find me.”

He pointed outside the gate.

“The room with the red lantern on the right, two doors down.”

Zhao Baozhu watched him leave, thinking that although the waiter had been gruff at first, he was actually a good person. By the way, he himself was now a waiter here. He wondered what kind of work the inn needed and whether he could handle it...

Only after Fang Li’s figure disappeared did Zhao Baozhu close the door behind him.

He sat on the bed, examining this temporary haven before the spring imperial examination. He had faced countless hardships along the way, but now finally glimpsed hope—light at the end of the tunnel.

He thought, “Heaven never seals off all paths.” A faint smile curled his lips. Though he had fainted today, he was no longer sleepy. He retrieved the ragged bundle placed aside and prepared to review his books.

But as he opened the bundle and pulled out the books, his movements suddenly froze, then sped up as he frantically searched through the bag.

“Where... where is my calling card?!”