Miss and farmhand

She looked up and the first thing she saw was a large hand still stained with ink—why were this man's hands always so dirty?—Jasmine flowers lay steadily in his large palm, though the edges were still slightly crushed, and petals clung to his fingers. White flowers, black ink stains, and the rough, dark hands of a man.

Huang Chu, lost in thought, suddenly blushed and quickly straightened up, holding the hairpin and moving closer to Huang Song.

Huang Song sensed her sister's unease. She recognized the man; he was with their father in the garden every day, and their father liked him—he wasn't a bad person.

But the older sister seemed to be afraid of him.

Sister Xu had never seen him before. Being timid, she propped herself up, her small body tilting to half-cover Huang Chu, with jasmine flowers comically hanging from her neck and wrists.

She nodded to the man, a gesture a child would make when imitating adults in social situations.

Strangely, the man also nodded back to little Huang Song, and they exchanged greetings, seemingly very seriously.

"Big sister, my flower."

The man's hand was still holding the jasmine flower. But Huang Chu couldn't take anything from him. So no one paid any attention to Huang Song's plea.

The silence between them wasn't the kind of cold awkwardness; it was as if they were just waiting for time to pass so they could say goodbye.

On the contrary, it was scorching hot. Like the kind of scorching hot sand described in storybooks, piled up in the car dealership, so hot that people who went in were reluctant to leave.

They were also reluctant to leave.

Huang Chu knew that the man must have something to say when he came over, otherwise he would always pretend that she didn't exist. These days, he was with her father in the garden every day, answering every question, but he never greeted the women.

Huang Chu had no idea that he loved painting so much; in her previous life, she had never seen a man hold a brush!

What did he want to say when he came over?

The man looked down at the jasmine flowers, then suddenly turned and gazed at a vague focal point in the garden. Huang Chu followed his gaze, but there were layers upon layers of nothingness in the distance.

But Huang Chu knew what he was looking at. Zhu Xiaoxu and Luo San Guniang must be over there.

"Don't interfere in their affairs," the man said, not looking at Huang Chu, but still addressing the void.

"What?" Huang Chu paused for a moment before realizing what was happening. "I didn't. They agreed on it themselves."

The man's jaw twitched, as if he didn't know how to explain it to Huang Chu.

Huang Chu seemed to understand his predicament, and actually found it a bit strange. She had never spoken to a man so properly before. Looking back now, it was hard to believe that they had been together for over two years without ever having a serious conversation. What had they been doing all day?

— Quickly suppressing his thoughts, Huang Chu blanked his mind, as if to compensate for some kind of guilty conscience, and tried his best to say more now.

She explained herself, "They're having a hard time, and I know I can't help them, but it's not too much trouble to do them a favor. I just can't bear to see them suffer like this." Her voice trailed off at the end.

It was unclear whether the man had listened. After a long pause, he simply shook his head.

"You don't know," he said.

Huang Chu was puzzled and didn't know what was going on, but the man had already left.

"Big sister," Huang Song tugged at Huang Chu's sleeve, bringing her back to her senses, "my flowers." She pointed in the direction the man had left.

He took the jasmine flower bouquet with him.

The intense, sweet fragrance couldn't be hidden on his body, nor was it appropriate. Before returning, the man had been carrying the flowers loosely, as if he cherished them. But when he reached the last bend, he paused only briefly before unhesitatingly crushing the flower bunch in his hand. He even rubbed the flowers thoroughly, watching each unopened bud rot between his fingers without a trace of regret, feeling a luxurious, wasteful pleasure.

Huang Chu had no idea how fast rumors could spread among servants. The operation of the mansion depended entirely on these people running around. They could appear anywhere without looking out of place, just like furniture. They heard as many secrets as the walls could hear.

Everyone was surprised by the affair between Zhu Xiaoxu and Miss Luo, which was the most crucial part of the story—they were mismatched. But Zhu Xiaoxu himself said it, so it couldn't be denied. Then why was he constantly running to the Second Master's house? Shouldn't he be avoiding suspicion?

There are all sorts of twists and turns, and all sorts of stories, but they all revolve around one point: the eldest daughter is a good match, while the third daughter is not.

Therefore, when they saw Luo San, their expressions showed a hint of sympathy. Luo San had come alone this time, without a single maid; she was using all of Shen Yurui's people. Feeling isolated and helpless, she increasingly felt that everyone was whispering behind her back. Even the sound of footsteps passing by outside the door late at night made her think that someone was spying on her, watching her suffer, seeing her left alone there without a reason, as if it were very improper.

The longer it went on, the greater her pressure became. She felt she should go back; Zhu Xiaoxu had given her the clearest and most compelling guarantee he could offer. She couldn't very well ask him to sign a written agreement again. She could ask Shen Yurui to send someone back with her—a capable old woman—to explain the situation to her parents, and they would naturally stop pressuring her to marry.

But subconsciously, perhaps instinctively, Luo San still dared not leave. She still felt uneasy, trapped alone in an unseen fear.

Because of this, when Shen Yurui came to deliver the message of visiting the Zhu family, despite her cousin's mocking expression, she still eagerly agreed.

She wanted to be closer to him, closer to his life.

The Zhu family's ancestors served as the Grand Canal Transport Commissioner, a very high-ranking official who had been in charge of Huai'an Prefecture for a long time. After retiring, no one in the younger generation could keep up with them, so they didn't force them. They returned to their hometown and built a separate house. The whole family never separated and lived together.

The scale of the Zhu Mansion reveals its former prosperity: it has five bays, wide enough for horses to run, and one must take a sedan chair to enter the courtyard.

Madam Zhu was very polite. Some of her nephews and nieces had passed the imperial examinations and were appointed as officials in other places, but they didn't have many connections in the capital and couldn't stay. This was a great pity. Therefore, when she learned that Huang Xingtong had been a Hanlin scholar, she held the Huang family in high regard.

So what if he resigned from his official post? Once a member of the Hanlin Academy, the network of connections—mentors, classmates, and officials in the Six Ministries—was not to be underestimated. A Hanlin's colleagues were also Hanlin; Hanlin lecturers and advisors to the Crown Prince could sometimes exert influence for several reigns. Huang Xingtong retired early, but his reputation remained excellent, and his lineage in calligraphy and painting seemed to belong to a master—that was remarkable. Sending his son to him as a student—the Zhu family's considerations were clearer than those of other students.

Therefore, such a visit to the inner quarters was almost impossible to go wrong. Everyone was polite and courteous, and everyone wore a smile.

Huang Chu didn't particularly like visiting the Zhu family; it was too much of a hassle, as Madam Zhu was always too enthusiastic. She was never used to it. Her mother was so aloof, and although her aunt was mean-spirited, she was also the kind of person who was reserved, but would occasionally strike unexpectedly from the shadows.

This time, Huang Chu couldn't be more enthusiastic than Madam Zhu, hoping to comfort Miss Luo San. Even she could see that Miss Luo San was in such bad spirits.

Madam Zhu treated Luo San no differently. A housewife from a wealthy family wouldn't do such a thing—showing favoritism in front of guests would seem calculating. She treated Luo San the same way she treated Huang Chu, praising her daughters' beauty, competence, and intelligence as usual. Knowing that Luo San was a generation older than Huang Chu, she praised her even more, saying she was mature for her age, showering her with composure.

The more she talked, the better the atmosphere became.

Only two people's hearts kept sinking.

One is Luo San Guniang herself.

That's not right. Why did Madam Zhu say that about her?

It was as if... Madam Zhu had no idea that her good son, Zhu Xiaoxu, was determined to marry this country girl from a poor family.

The other one is Shen Yurui.

Her heart sank, and she sneered inwardly. She could see Luo San's unease perfectly clearly.