Ye Jinghua

A person dashed away like a flash. Zhao Baozhu stood alone in the courtyard, his chest rising and falling. The surrounding chicks seemed to sense his anger and scattered in all directions.

“Shameless!”

Zhao Baozhu stewed in anger for a long while, cursed bitterly, then turned back to squat beneath the tree and continue reading. Having finished his own chores, he absolutely refused to be a sucker and work for others.

Yet, after a while, he found he could not concentrate. His peripheral vision kept drifting to the wooden bucket standing there, which should hold feed for the horses.

Zhao Baozhu flipped the page, lifted his eyelids to glance at the bucket again. After reading only a few lines, he looked twice more.

...If this bucket stays here, won’t the horses starve?

Zhao Baozhu’s family was poor; he had experienced hunger as a child and knew how unbearable it was. Growing up among chickens, ducks, and livestock, he had a fondness for animals and couldn’t stand to see these sentient creatures suffer.

After some hesitation, Zhao Baozhu sighed helplessly, stood up from the ground, and picked up the bucket, heading toward the path leading to the stable.

Zhao Baozhu had seldom seen horses. In their village, oxen and donkeys were mostly used for plowing and pulling carts. The only time he had seen horses was during the county-level imperial exam, at the county magistrate’s residence, where there was a group of cart horses. That horse was somewhat old, its coat a dusty yellow close to the earth, its belly gaunt, ribs clearly visible beneath the skin. Zhao Baozhu had assumed that all horses looked about like that.

So when he saw the three tall, magnificent horses in the stable, his jaw dropped immediately.

Before him stood three horses, from left to right: chestnut, pure white, and black. The white steed in the middle was as tall as three men stacked atop one another. Its glossy black eyes half-closed, long eyelashes partly shading them, it carried an air of lofty compassion. Zhao Baozhu’s mouth hung open as he watched the hair on its neck float gently in the air, feeling as if he had stepped into a fairyland. The legendary three thousand divine soldiers descending from the heavens must have ridden such horses.

“So beautiful...”

Zhao Baozhu murmured. His gaze followed the elegant, raised neck of the white horse downward, taking in its smooth, muscular front hooves, and he finally understood—this was what a true steed looked like.

He set the bucket filled with hay down carefully and glanced at the three horses. As he admired them, the sheer size of these magnificent creatures made him a little uneasy. He wondered whether they might bite unfamiliar people who came to feed them.

Looking at the long, powerful front hooves lined up together, Zhao Baozhu swallowed nervously. If one of these horses kicked him in anger, his life might be forfeited right then and there!

Zhao Baozhu gritted his teeth, mustered courage, picked up the bucket, and slowly approached the feeding trough step by step. He glanced at the chestnut horse on the far left. Under its watchful gaze, he carefully tilted the bucket and began to pour out the hay bit by bit.

He moved as slowly as possible, trying not to attract the horse’s attention. Fortunately, the chestnut horse seemed uninterested in him, only flicking its long lashes at him before lowering its head to graze on the hay in the trough.

Zhao Baozhu breathed a sigh of relief, feeling some of his fear ease. He turned to the right to add hay to the next trough. The white horse stood before him, watching as he bent over to pour the hay, its eyes gently blinking.

Zhao Baozhu was focused on feeding when suddenly, a warm breath brushed against his ear. He shivered and turned his head, seeing the horse’s glossy black eyes very close.

!!!

His eyes widened in shock as the horse’s head slowly drew nearer. Instinctively, he thought the horse was going to bite him:

“D-Don’t bite me!”

Startled, he took a fearful step back, accidentally stepping on the wooden bucket that had fallen earlier. In an instant, he lost his balance and fell backward.

“Thud!”

With a dull thump, a sharp pain burst on Zhao Baozhu’s head. Dizzy and disoriented, he collapsed to the ground.

·

Meanwhile, in the front courtyard, Fang Li passed through the gate, brushing aside branches of the parasol tree. His eyes immediately landed on the man waiting by the vermilion gate, dressed in a deep blue robe.

“Steward Fang.”

Two young maids in pale yellow dresses stood by the semi-arched gate, greeting Fang Li with a bow. He glanced at them and responded with a casual “Hmm,” then strode over to the man by the red gate.

“Brother.”

Fang Li called softly as he reached the man. The man in the blue robe turned to reveal a face bearing a seven-part resemblance to Fang Li. Seeing Fang Li, he furrowed his brows slightly and asked, “Why have you come to the front courtyard? The young master will return soon. Has everything in the kitchen been arranged?”

This man was Fang Qin, Fang Li’s elder brother. Since childhood, they had both served the second young master of the Ye family. The younger brother took the role of steward, while the elder remained close to the second young master as a personal attendant.

Fang Qin’s features were softer than Fang Li’s, and his temper gentler. Fang Li had always been wary of this ever-smiling elder brother. Hearing the question, he hurriedly nodded, “All arranged. The weather’s cool now, so I had the kitchen prepare lily and black-boned chicken soup early this morning. It’s the best tonic.”

At this, Fang Qin relaxed somewhat, nodding before asking, “Then why did you come looking for me in such a hurry?”

Fang Qin cast a glance at his brother, gathering his words before lowering his voice: “I came to ask about that beggar the young master took in that day. Has anyone handled his belongings?”

“What beggar?” Fang Qin was momentarily puzzled, then realization dawned: “Oh, you mean the one Deng Yun brought in that day, who fled from the south?”

Fang Li nodded. “Yes, that one. He told me yesterday he lost something.”

Fang Qin frowned, now understanding what Fang Li meant. He stared silently for a moment. As cold sweat broke out on Fang Li’s forehead, Fang Qin finally said slowly,

“Did you eat something wrong today or something?”

That was heavy wording coming from Fang Qin. Fang Li quickly clasped his hands in plea: “I know no one would touch his ragged bundle, but the boy kept bothering me, so I couldn’t stand it and came to trouble you.”

Hearing this, Fang Qin looked at him for a long moment before saying, “His things were probably picked up by Nurse Qi. If anything’s missing, have him talk to her.”

Fang Li understood, thinking Nurse Qi loved Zhao Baozhu so much she wouldn’t touch his things. It must be that pesky little beggar making things up. He bit his lip in frustration, thinking it was a hassle to make this trip, and vowed to find a chance to properly teach Zhao Baozhu a lesson so he wouldn’t lie again. Outwardly, he said to Fang Qin,

“Thanks. I’ll make sure he knows and won’t cause any more trouble.”

Meanwhile, Fang Qin looked thoughtfully at his younger brother and said softly, “Rare to see you show such kindness, even asking on his behalf.”

Fang Li’s heart shook; looking up, he saw Fang Qin withdraw his gaze and fall silent, though his expression had grown cold. Fang Li immediately thought this was bad—his brother was meticulous and prone to suspicion. Though silent now, he probably already harbored displeasure toward Zhao Baozhu.

Fang Li opened his mouth to explain, but the vermilion gate suddenly swung open. He shut his mouth and stood behind Fang Qin.

The tall, wide vermilion gates of the Ye residence opened outward, revealing a pale, jade-like face. The young man lowered his eyes, standing just outside. Two small children on either side pulled open the doors for him. Beside him, Deng Yun, dressed in blue, noticed the Fang brothers at the gate and frowned slightly.

Fang Qin immediately led Fang Li to bow low. “Young master.”

Ye Jinghua slowly raised his eyes, letting them sweep gently over the two before giving a faint acknowledgment. He then stepped inside. The Fang brothers followed, the three escorting him into the house.

Upon entering, several fair-faced maidservants in golden apricot dresses rushed forward to remove Ye Jinghua’s outer robe. One maid, with phoenix-shaped eyes and especially striking features, furrowed her delicate brows as she touched the brocade fabric dampened by morning dew and cold, quietly complaining,

“It’s still chilly. Why is the young master dressed so lightly? At least he should have a windproof cloak.”

She was frustrated that no one in the household had thought to dress the young master more warmly. Her dissatisfaction simmered.

Ye Jinghua sat by the table but did not drink the hot tea the maids offered. Instead, he raised a hand to rub his temple. “It’s nothing.”

Seeing him rub his temple, the maid’s beautiful face immediately clouded with concern. She turned to another maid nearby and instructed, “Quick, have the kitchen prepare some ginger soup.”

The young maid hurriedly agreed and turned toward the kitchen. Ye Jinghua opened his eyes and called after her, “No need to trouble them.”

The young maid stopped in her tracks, bowed her head, and retreated to the wall. The first maid, seeing this, felt awkward and stood there uncertainly.

Ye Jinghua looked at her, seeming to notice her embarrassment, and spoke softly, “Yuqi, bring a brazier.”

At this, the maid named Yuqi’s embarrassed expression gradually faded. She bowed to Ye Jinghua and replied gently, “Yes.” Then, holding the outer robe, she turned and left gracefully.

Fang Qin observed coldly, face impassive. Yuqi, like them, had grown up beside Ye Jinghua. Among the maids, she was the most outstanding in appearance. In recent years, with the young master nearing adulthood yet remaining unmarried and living separately, her thoughts had grown increasingly lively. Among the maids, she had already begun to regard herself as a concubine.

But the outsiders saw clearly: Ye Jinghua was the legitimate son of the prime minister. Even the concubines often came from prominent official families. There was no chance for her.

Fang Qin suppressed his thoughts, bent slightly, and asked softly, “Young master, would you like anything? The kitchen has simmered black-boned chicken soup. Should I have it brought to you?”

Ye Jinghua lowered his eyes. “No need.” Then he looked at the maids attending him. “You may all go.”

The maids bowed and, with light steps, silently left the room. Seeing a trace of fatigue on Ye Jinghua’s face, Fang Qin gave Fang Li a glance. Fang Li understood immediately and quietly lit some calming incense.

Deng Yun stood behind Ye Jinghua. Seeing him lean one hand on the table, eyes half-closed in rest, she exchanged a subtle glance with Fang Qin.

Recently, whenever the young master was summoned to the palace, he returned with a pale face. They knew the reason. The spring examination was just over a month away, yet Ye Jinghua remained silent. The palace and the family were naturally anxious.

Fang Qin sighed softly. Three years ago, the palace had pressed hard, and now, with less than a year until the young master came of age, the young master’s mother would likely force him to the examination hall even if she had to bind him.

Deng Yun sighed as well. Seeing Ye Jinghua’s weary expression, she bent down and spoke softly, “Young master, there’s some time before dinner. Let me help you to the inner chambers to rest.”

At her words, Ye Jinghua slowly opened his eyes and nodded, “Very well.”

Deng Yun reached out to support him, but he waved her off. Ye Jinghua rose from the table and was about to turn when he suddenly spotted Fang Li standing in the corner. Seeing him seemed to remind him of something; his brows shifted slightly, he halted, and turned his face.

“Where is the beggar you took in that day?”