If you die, I will be able to inherit your cultivation.

Besides cooking itself, there are a bunch of other miscellaneous tasks in the kitchen every day.

Carrying water, chopping firewood, picking vegetables, killing chickens and gutting fish, cleaning offal and entrails, washing pots and dishes, and emptying swill—all these rough jobs were done by the ten servants.

Just carrying water is exhausting enough. The kitchen uses more than a dozen vats of water a day, all carried back from the well by two young servants, one load at a time, from morning till night.

There's also the management of ingredients.

Zhou Ming originally thought that the kitchen manager was responsible for going out to buy supplies, but when he asked, he found out that the kitchen had no say in the purchasing.

That was something that Chunlan, the head maid, personally managed.

The ingredients needed for the kitchen every day, whether it's rice, flour, oil, salt, or chicken, duck, fish, or meat, are all listed one day in advance.

After Liu Sandao reviewed it, it was handed over to Zhou Ming for approval. After Zhou Ming signed and confirmed it, it was sent to Chunlan, who then arranged for someone to allocate it from the warehouse or go out to purchase it.

The next morning, the kitchen sent someone to the warehouse with a list to collect the materials.

Zhou Ming personally took charge of the task of collecting materials.

In other words, the kitchen only takes care of cooking, not buying.

In Zhou Ming's view, this system has both advantages and disadvantages:

The red envelopes eliminated the possibility of the kitchen manager skimping on the profits.

The downside is that even buying scallions requires Chunlan's approval, as the kitchen manager.

However, he wasn't too dissatisfied with the current situation. After all, he was a newly appointed official and was still unfamiliar with many things. The most important thing was to stay peacefully in the Marquis's residence.

Since Zhou Ming transmigrated to the present day, he only eats two meals a day, one at noon and one in the evening.

Every morning, Zhou Ming has to drink several ladles of water, otherwise his stomach will be empty and he won't be able to hold out until noon.

However, there was nothing he could do about it; these were the rules established by the Marquis's mansion over the decades, and it was not something a mere servant like him could change.

However, while others don't eat breakfast, as the young lady of the house, she definitely has to eat breakfast.

However, Liu Sandao usually does the cooking himself, preparing a few refreshing side dishes and a bowl of porridge.

After wandering around the kitchen, I asked all the questions I needed to and got to know most of the people I needed to know.

Zhou Ming looked up at the sky. The sun had fully risen.

The morning light slanted in through the half-open kitchen window, illuminating the stovetop.

He took a deep breath, put aside his kitchen duties for the time being, and braced himself as he walked toward the east side of Haitang Garden.

There are two martial arts training grounds in Haitang Garden.

One area was used by the guards for their daily martial arts practice. It was a spacious place with weapons racks neatly arranged with swords, spears, and halberds. There was no obstruction around, so anyone passing by could take a look.

Zhou Ming went there first. He looked around the field twice, but apart from a few guards practicing their swordsmanship, he didn't see Dongmei.

His heart skipped a beat; he knew there was no escaping it.

The other training ground was more secluded, located in the northeast corner of the Begonia Garden, nestled between a rockery and a bamboo grove. Normally, apart from Su Mingyue and her four head maids, no one else was allowed to set foot there.

Zhou Ming has been at the Marquis's residence for many years, but he only came once when he was a child, when he accompanied Su Mingyue to practice swordsmanship.

He walked along the path through the bamboo grove, the gravel under his feet making a soft rustling sound, and the further he went, the quieter it became.

As soon as Zhou Ming stepped onto the edge of the training ground, he saw Dongmei.

She stood in the very center of the field, holding a short sword, the blade gleaming with a cold, clear light in the morning sun.

Her movements were extremely fast; the short sword flew up and down in her hand, sometimes thrusting straight with her forehand, sometimes slashing horizontally with her backhand.

His footwork moved in sync with the sword's movements, constantly shifting his position, making him appear as a shadow enveloped in sword light.

Zhou Ming slowed his steps to the lightest possible, tucked his neck into his collar, and held his hands neatly at his sides, trying to minimize his presence.

He even deliberately slowed his breathing, silently repeating in his mind: You can't see me, you can't see me, you can't see me.

However, with Dongmei's sharp eyesight, how could she not see such a large, living person standing there?

In just a short while, Dongmei withdrew her sword.

With a flick of her wrist, the short sword twirled beautifully in her palm before being steadily sheathed back into its scabbard at her waist.

She turned around, raised her hand and beckoned to Zhou Ming, the gesture as casual as if she were beckoning a disobedient cat.

"come over."

Zhou Ming obediently walked over.

"Sister Dongmei."

Dongmei looked him up and down, her gaze sweeping from his head to his toes and back again, as if she were gauging the weight of a piece of pork.

She raised the corners of her mouth slightly, revealing a smile that wasn't quite a smile: "Take off your coat."

Zhou Ming hesitated for a moment, then took off his coat, folded it, and placed it on the stone bench next to him.

"Stand over there with your feet shoulder-width apart. Bend your knees and lower your waist."

Zhou Ming did as instructed.

He had also squatted in a horse stance in his predecessor's memories, even though his predecessor was a second-class servant.

However, according to the rules of the Marquis's mansion, when servants enter the mansion, they are first trained according to the standards of guards.

Those who do not meet the standards of a guard will be made servants.

Zhou Ming thought that since his predecessor had practiced it, it wouldn't be a difficult task for him anymore.

But he had only squatted down for a short while when he realized how wrong he had been.

Dongmei circled behind him and gently tapped his lower back with the scabbard of her sword.

"Straighten your back! What are you doing, slouching? Are you squatting in the outhouse or doing a horse stance?"

Zhou Ming suddenly straightened his back.

The scabbard tapped against his hunched back again: "Keep your back straight, don't shrug your shoulders. Lower your shoulders."

Zhou Ming lowered his shoulders. The scabbard then slapped against his raised knees.

"Keep your knees from going past your toes, pull them back."

Dongmei circled around him, tapping a spot on his body with her sword sheath with each step she took.

The shoulder blades, lower back, thighs, and calves were all tapped with such precision that it was as if they had been measured with a ruler.

She kept subtly adjusting Zhou Ming's posture until he formed a perfect right angle when viewed from the side. Only then did she stop, walk around to the front of him, and nod in satisfaction.

"Stay here, don't move. Squat for fifteen minutes."

"A quarter of an hour?" Zhou Ming blurted out.

"Not enough? Then add another 15 minutes."

Zhou Ming immediately shut his mouth.

He squatted for fifteen minutes.

He can squat.

After squatting for less than the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea, Zhou Ming's legs began to tremble.

It wasn't the kind of trembling that's slight, but rather a sudden, uncontrollable spasm in the muscles of the thighs and calves.

He gritted his teeth, and fine beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead.

Then there's the defensive midfielder.

The muscles on both sides of my lumbar spine were sore, heavy and painful, as if someone was sawing back and forth on my lower back with a dull knife.

Dongmei brought a small stool from somewhere and sat down three steps in front of him, slowly wiping her short sword with a piece of velvet cloth.

She wiped it extremely carefully, leaving no inch untouched, from the guard to the tip.

After wiping it once, she held the sword up to her eyes and examined it in the light. Seemingly dissatisfied, she wiped it again from the beginning.

Zhou Ming's legs trembled more and more violently, and his knees began to involuntarily rise.

Dongmei didn't even raise her head, only letting out a soft "Hmm?" from her throat.

The sound was very soft, with a slight upward inflection at the end, carrying a lazy warning tone.

Zhou Ming gritted his teeth and pressed his knee back down.

"Sister Dongmei," he forced out the words through gritted teeth, "how much longer until it's a quarter of an hour?"

"It's still early," Dongmei said without looking up, focusing intently on wiping a nearly invisible stain off the sword.

"It's barely over one-tenth of the way through."

"One-tenth?"

Zhou Ming's voice was distorted.

He felt that an hour had passed.

Dongmei finally raised her head, glanced at him, and a faint smile played on her lips—a smile that looked undeniably gloating.

"What, you think it's too long? If you think it's too long, just say so, and I can add something else for you?"

"No need, no need, squatting here is fine." Zhou Ming quickly shook his head vigorously.

Dongmei snorted and lowered her head to continue wiping the sword.

Zhou Ming squatted there, his legs shaking like leaves, sweat rolling down his forehead and dripping onto the ground from the tip of his nose.

He deeply felt that the young lady had Dongmei train him not only to give him the ability to protect himself.

It was nothing short of a blatant punishment.

He was punished for huddling around the broken plank at the cave entrance yesterday, which disgraced the Marquis's mansion.

The young lady herself disdained to punish him, so she let Dongmei do it.

The most problematic thing is that Dongmei herself seems to enjoy this job.

My legs no longer feel like my own.

After the muscles become extremely sore, a strange numbness takes its place.

My thighs and calves felt like they were filled with hot vinegar—sour, swollen, and burning.

Zhou Ming felt like he might fall to the ground at any moment.

But he stubbornly refused to collapse.

It wasn't because of his strong willpower, but because Dongmei was sitting right in front of him.

The short sword in his hand, capable of cleaving through long blades, gleamed with a beautiful, cold light in the morning glow.