A Drop of Kindness

Spring Zevu kept many chickens and dogs. People often said, “Lamps burn at midnight, and chickens crow at dawn,” but Lingran realized that chickens truly did crow randomly in the middle of the night, causing her to wake over and over, thinking daybreak had come, only to find darkness still shrouding everything. In the end, exhaustion overtook her, and even the din faded from her ears.

Eventually, someone shook her awake. She opened her eyes to see daylight streaming in and Yan Yan standing by her bed.

Lingran promptly sat up with a start. “What time is it?” she asked.

“You certainly slept soundly—didn’t even stir when Sixth Madam and Seventh Madam departed with all that commotion,” Yan Yan said.

With those words, Lingran’s heart plummeted. “What? The Madams have already left? Why didn’t anyone wake us to attend them?”

Yan Yan replied, “Get up quickly! Though the two Madams are out today, Sister Zi Bing left plenty of work for us. All the outside errands are enviable tasks—the senior maids fought to be chosen, not leaving us a chance.” With that, she stepped out the door, leaving Lingran so regretful she could hardly contain herself—such a good opportunity lost in vain!

She hurried through her morning wash and went to find Yan Yan, only to see her and several maids and matrons already working in the field before the house. A few young servants were hauling wheelbarrows loaded with clusters of plants—judging by the leaves and buds, they were all chrysanthemums.

“What are you dawdling for? Come help pull up the vegetables!” one of the matrons called out loudly.

Yan Yan hadn’t called her earlier, and Lingran now realized she’d also missed breakfast—hadn’t even drunk any water. Stomach growling, she joined the others at their labor.

“What’s going on? Why are we pulling up perfectly good vegetables?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Yan Yan answered, “It’s already the beginning of autumn! Chrysanthemum season is nearly here. Soon the whole garden will be filled with golden blossoms and fragrance—it’ll be beautiful. Last year, the Prince visited often in the fall just to admire the chrysanthemums. So, while the two Madams are away, we’re replanting the fields with chrysanthemums.”

Artificial landscaping, Lingran thought—planting only what suits the season. She bowed her head and continued uprooting vegetables.

By late morning, heaps of greens—rapeseed, peppers, eggplants—were piled by the field. The young servants neatly transplanted the cultivated chrysanthemums with small hoes, bantering and jesting with the maids. Such chances were rare, and the mood was lively and cheerful.

The maids didn’t mind the toil. When the sun rose, they fetched wide-brimmed hats from the house. The green fields, dotted with girls in bright reds and greens, bustled with rustic energy.

Unfortunately, Lingran had only one set of clothes. Though it was late in the season, the autumn sun still blazed, and she soon was drenched in sweat, arms aching from the work.

One of the matrons said, “Early this morning, Sixth Madam instructed us to send the freshly picked vegetables to Young Master Hongxiao and the other concubines in the Prime Minister’s residence, and also to the Madams in the garden. If we wait until the sun is high, the vegetables will wilt and lose their appeal. Why not deliver them now?”

It seemed the Liang sisters were indeed adept at winning goodwill. In these two households, nothing was truly lacking—sometimes, a gift of fresh vegetables could mean more than something lavish.

A capable-looking maid swiftly divided the tasks. Lingran thought this was her chance to slip over to Lanzeshan Cottage for her spare clothes and to visit the Prime Minister’s kitchen to see Tao, the matron—Tao could come and go from the Prime Minister’s estate to buy supplies; she was someone worth befriending. Lingran quickly volunteered, “I happen to need to fetch my clothes; let me deliver the vegetables to the kitchen where the concubines’ and young ladies’ meals are prepared.”

It wasn’t an enviable job, so the maid agreed. The other girls jostled to deliver vegetables to Young Master Hongxiao instead. Clearly, the maids here didn’t dare covet the Prince, but Young Master Hongxiao was another matter. The maid in charge claimed that task for herself.

The young servants bundled the vegetables and loaded them into baskets, then escorted the maids to the Prime Minister’s residence.

Already soaked in sweat, Lingran took two large baskets straight to the small kitchen.

As soon as she stepped into the courtyard, Granny Zhang—plucking chicken feathers in the shade—called out, “Oh? You’re all right? We heard yesterday the new Concubine Xu gave you a hard time, dragging you to see the Prime Minister. We were worried about you!”

“It’s nothing, thank you for your concern. The Prime Minister is a fair man—he wouldn’t listen to her nonsense.” Lingran replied casually.

“Why so many vegetables?” Granny Zhang wiped her hands on her apron and came to help carry the baskets inside.

“Lingran, you’re back?” Aunt Mao greeted her at the door.

Lingran smiled, “Thank you all for thinking of me. I’ve been assigned to serve in the Seventh Madam’s quarters at the Prince’s residence. Today, Spring Zevu harvested lots of fresh produce—Sixth and Seventh Madams asked us to deliver them everywhere. Since you all cook for Concubines Dantai, Chen, and the young ladies, I brought them straight here.”

The women congratulated her, but Lingran could only sigh inwardly—what was there to celebrate?

Tao Chunying, busy frying several dishes, called out, “That won’t do! Since these are gifts from the Prince’s two Madams, you must deliver them personally to the concubines and young ladies. If your mistress asks later, you’ll have an answer.”

Granny Zhang reminded her, “Running errands for your mistress is a good thing—the concubines and young ladies always give rewards. Just say the vegetables are in the kitchen and go.”

Lingran wanted to earn some money, but she’d seen the young ladies’ maids here—arrogant and overbearing. She didn’t want to roam around and risk trouble, so she said to Granny Zhang, “If you have time, would you deliver them for me? Any reward is yours. I still have chores to finish and need to fetch my clothes from Lanzeshan Cottage.”

Granny Zhang, eager for a little extra, grinned and sought Tao Chunying’s approval. Tao, busy at the stove, waved her off without looking up, and Granny Zhang happily bustled away.

“If I get my monthly wage, I’ll buy wine to share with all you ladies,” Lingran promised sweetly as she took her leave.

“My, that’s generous! Even our Tao only gets a tael a month—maids in the main house really have it better,” Aunt Mao sighed, reminding Lingran to visit often.

As Lingran was leaving, she saw a plate of freshly boiled eggs on the stove, still steaming. She swallowed hard.

Somehow, Tao Chunying noticed and silently handed her two eggs.

Lingran’s eyes stung with sudden warmth. She was still growing, and always seemed hungry. She hadn’t eaten enough the night before, and after a morning of labor, had drunk only a few sips of water—a hardship she’d never known. If not for Tao Chunying’s quiet kindness, her usually cheerful self would never have felt so close to tears.

“What are you waiting for? Off with you!” Tao’s weathered face radiated a motherly glow.

Lingran waved goodbye, unable to find words. In her heart, she vowed, “A kindness like this will be repaid a hundredfold. Tao, I won’t forget you!”

Clutching the two eggs, Lingran trudged toward Lanzeshan Cottage. Thinking of Tao Chunying’s care, she was reminded of her own mother, and couldn’t bear to eat the eggs just yet.

Just as she passed the “No Admittance” sign, the view ahead brightened. There, to her surprise, was Young Master Hongxiao, sitting alone on the mountain path. He said coolly, “Am I truly so unapproachable?”