Chapter 12: Change of Heart – Waiting to Die Like a Salted Fish

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The carriage had traveled a considerable distance when Wen Zhixu glanced back at the street corner. There stood Lin Xihe at the far end of the long street, flailing her arms like an enraged character in a comic strip, gesticulating wildly in his direction.

He didn’t need to think hard to know she must be cursing him.

Wen Ba, seeing his master’s livid yet restrained expression, knew he was furious. Indignantly, he asked, “Second Master, will you just let Miss Lin be so arrogant?”

Wen Zhixu replied, “If I were to lose my composure over a mere servant in public, wouldn’t I become a laughingstock?”

The evening lanterns were just being lit, the time when commoners strolled after dinner.

Many idlers craned their necks, hoping for some excitement. If the esteemed Second Master Wen were to quarrel with a lowly servant on the street, he would become the talk of the town by tomorrow.

The carriage stopped in front of a mounting shop, and Wen Ba went inside to collect the newly mounted calligraphy.

The shopkeeper hesitated for a moment before asking, “Is this truly Second Master Wen’s work? It looks like characters, yet not quite. What’s the reason for this?”

Wen Ba was illiterate, but defending his master was an instinct ingrained in his bones. Drawing himself up, he declared, “My Second Master has always been unique.”

The shopkeeper, a conservative scholar, scrutinized Wen Zhixu’s “simplified character” masterpiece. “These strokes… have been simplified far too much.”

Wen Ba carefully rolled up the scroll, his attitude haughty. “The Second Master is frugal in managing the household. Is saving ink not allowed?”

The shopkeeper: “…” Was the Wen Country Duke Manor facing confiscation? Did they need to economize to this extent!

Back in the carriage, Wen Ba presented the scroll with both hands. “Second Master, shall I deliver this to the Lin residence tomorrow?”

Wen Zhixu lightly tapped the windowsill with his fingertips, the image of that grimy-faced servant flashing before his eyes. An inexplicable irritation rose within him, and without thinking, he uttered two words: “Don’t send it.”

Wen Ba was inwardly astonished: Wasn’t it you who wanted to write and send it? How could you change your mind so quickly?

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Lin Xihe hadn’t found Bu Bu, but instead bumped into Wen Zhixu at the entrance of a brothel. Being new to this ancient era, everything seemed novel to her. She wandered over to the entrance of Yuling Courtyard, standing on tiptoe to peer at the glamorous scene within.

“Miss, please stop looking!” Qingwu was both embarrassed and anxious. Seeing that the clever servant seemed rooted to the spot and wouldn’t come back no matter how she called, she could only stamp her foot in frustration. “Lin Danio!”

A carriage stopped, and several elegantly dressed young masters alighted, chatting and laughing. The coachman, about to drive the carriage to the backyard, spotted Lin Xihe dressed as a servant and greeted her.

Lin Xihe asked, “Big brother, who’s the most popular courtesan here?”

The coachman was amused. “You, you… really are a toad lusting after swan meat. Fine, no harm in telling you. The top courtesan of Yuling Courtyard, ‘Sai Guanyin,’ is someone countless noble young masters in Shengjing City wish to meet but can’t.”

“Oh? Is she really that beautiful?”

“Of course!” the coachman continued. “What a pity though. Even such a beauty has her whole heart tied to that Second Master from the Wen Country Duke Manor.”

“Oh—!” Lin Xihe drew out the syllable meaningfully.

All the clues fell into place, and she understood. So Cuihuang was her! That girl’s original name was too plain, no wonder she changed it to ‘Sai Guanyin.’

“This won’t do!” Qingwu, listening nearby, grew increasingly anxious and couldn’t help interjecting. “Second Master Wen is already betrothed!”

All of Shengjing knew Wen Zhixu was spoken for. How could a mere courtesan like Sai Guanyin dare to entertain such wishful thinking?

The coachman seemed to have heard the biggest joke of the century, slanting his eyes to size up Qingwu from head to toe, his words dripping with sarcasm: “Second Master Wen, a man as pure as the breeze and bright as the moon, has been dragged down by the Lin family’s foolish young lady all this time. Who in the entire capital doesn’t sigh and call him a sucker? Since when is it your place to point fingers?”

“You!” Qingwu’s face turned deathly pale.

Lin Xihe pulled Qingwu away, grumbling inwardly as they walked: These ancient people must be stuck on 2G internet. If such high-society gossip were in modern times, photos of Young Master Wen visiting brothels would have already dominated the trending searches, with the entire nation surfing the web and munching on melon seeds while enjoying the drama.

The key point was that she, the person involved, was perfectly healthy and sharp-minded—not a trace of foolishness about her. This coachman couldn’t even get fresh gossip right.

“Sai Guanyin, quite the bold claim,” Lin Xihe mocked, “I might as well call myself the Jester of Tathagata!”

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That night, after attending to the Second Master’s rest, Wen Ba said dejectedly to Wen Qi: “The Second Master doesn’t like me.”

He had only gotten the position through his uncle the coachman’s connections, changing his name to serve by the Second Master’s side.

Wen Qi patted his shoulder: “The Second Master has always been generous to his subordinates.”

Wen Ba’s voice grew even softer: “The Second Master has never smiled at me.”

Wen Qi was taken aback by these words, pausing before responding: “If the Second Master were to smile, it would be for his future wife.”

Mentioning the future wife, Wen Ba recalled the scene when the Second Master encountered Miss Lin: “After seeing Miss Lin, the Second Master’s face grew even tighter.”

“Matters of our masters are not for us to ponder over. Doing our duties well is the proper role of servants.”

Wen Ba bowed his head: “Brother Qi is right to admonish me.”

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The next morning.

The dutiful Wen Ba kept his eyes open for work. He repaired the oiled window paper, tidied up the scholar’s four treasures, and finally gently straightened the newly mounted calligraphy on the writing desk.

The newly retrieved mounted calligraphy was exquisitely crafted—the mounting shop owner had followed the Second Master’s instructions to create it in the Embossed Stationery style favored by young ladies.

Now, standing before the desk, Wen Ba saw two identical sheets of stationery in his view, even the elegant and unique silk borders were exactly the same.

Left side: The sounds of chickens and dogs hearing each other…

Right side: Having never met Miss Lin…

Which one was the masterpiece the young master had specifically brushed for Miss Lin?

The illiterate Wen Ba fell into deep thought.

After Wen Zhixu finished washing up, Wen Ba softly reminded him: “Second Master, there’s a fallen petal on your shoulder.”

Wen Zhixu lowered his gaze, picking up the small petal with his fingertips.

This crabapple blossom was exactly the same as the one tucked inside the paper ball Lin Xihe had thrown at him.

He looked toward the wall separating the two residences, where a crabapple tree stretched across, its crimson blossoms cascading down, staining the white walls and dark tiles red.

He recalled the gardener’s words—this tree was a sapling his mother had gifted when Madam Lin was pregnant that year. His thoughts drifted back to childhood, when he had struggled to lift a small shovel to cover its roots with the first handful of soil.

By that calculation, he had technically seen Lin Xihe once while still a young child—though at that time, she was still leisurely lying in Madam Lin’s belly.

Thinking of this, Wen Zhixu ordered Wen Ba to deliver the calligraphy to the Lin residence.

Wen Ba couldn’t help himself: “Second Master, this calligraphy…” Didn’t you say you wouldn’t give it to Miss Lin?

The master’s thoughts had become harder to read than June weather.

Wen Zhixu replied without changing expression: “A gentleman values his promises—how can he go back on his word? Deliver the Jinchuang Yuzhi Powder along with it.”

Wen Ba: “…”

Oh my, even willing to part with the Imperial-Gift medicine now?

After dismissing the attendants, Lin Xihe immediately buried herself in devouring the exquisite breakfast spread across the table. Qingwu entered with tea for rinsing her mouth, just in time to see the young lady’s cheeks bulging like stuffed dumplings.

Lin Xihe hurriedly swallowed the sweet bun.

Qingwu glanced down at her own sturdy figure and quickly offered the teacup: “Young lady, you mustn’t eat until you become plump like your humble maid.”

The Lin family’s dishes could rival those of Michelin-starred chefs – never in her pre-transmigration life had Lin Xihe tasted such refined delicacies.

She chuckled gleefully and hastily concocted an absurd explanation: “Hai, this is what they call transforming grief into appetite.”

The maid stared blankly, completely baffled.

Though she understood each individual word the young lady spoke, when strung together they might as well have been celestial scriptures.

After breakfast, Lin Xihe sank into utter listlessness. No system, no missions – since transmigrating here, aside from possessing a remarkable appetite, her life lacked any purpose whatsoever.

“Young lady,” a servant announced from outside the door, “Second Master Wen has sent over a calligraphy piece.”

Whoosh—

Lin Xihe, who had been lounging idly on the daybed like a salted fish awaiting death, sprang upright with the agility of a carp leaping from water.