At this thought, Ye Yunniang reminded herself once more to be cautious—she couldn’t afford to be discovered.
"It was announced as lost, but according to the maids from Fifth Miss’s courtyard, the jade hairpin was actually stolen by a thief," Li'er said, glancing around to ensure no one else was nearby before lowering her voice.
"Rumor has it... the thief was a man."
"Li'er, you mustn’t say such things to outsiders," Ye Yunniang warned. If others overheard, Li'er would be lucky to escape with just a severe punishment.
"I only told you two," Li'er replied. She knew Ye Yunniang and Nanny Shi could be trusted to keep quiet.
"Even to us, it’s better left unsaid. A secret only remains one if no one knows," Nanny Shi said sternly.
Li’er realized her mistake and grew visibly frightened.
"The Dragon Boat Festival is in two days. How is it celebrated in Jiangcheng?" Ye Yunniang changed the subject.
"Oh no! I completely forgot about the zongzi! The steward said they’d be distributed today!" Li’er clapped a hand to her forehead and dashed off in a hurry.
Watching her flustered retreat, Ye Yunniang was reminded that the girl was only nine years old. Li’er usually carried herself with such maturity that Ye Yunniang often forgot she wasn’t even ten yet.
After a restful night, Ye Yunniang rose and practiced calligraphy in the sand tray for half an hour.
When she arrived at Fanghua Courtyard, she was informed that Taohong had already taken Jiang Tingjun with Fourth Madam Jiang to Zhongle Courtyard for morning greetings.
"Aunt Lan instructed that Wet Nurse Ye should rest for another day today," Hongluo relayed the message from Aunt Jinlan.
Why would they go for greetings before the fifteenth?
Puzzled, Ye Yunniang quickly dismissed the thought—an extra day of rest was a blessing.
She returned to Zhiyu Pavilion, shouldered her book bag, and headed to Xiaosong Residence, where she was stopped and inspected once more by the patrol.
At Xiaosong Residence, she signed in with a fingerprint.
Kong Ci collected the attendance sheet and quizzed her on previous lessons.
Ye Yunniang recognized every character Kong Ci pointed to without hesitation.
Kong Ci was pleased—Ye Yunniang had clearly put in the effort.
"Good. Today’s lesson has two parts. First, I’ll teach you the next sixteen characters, then how to hold a brush for writing."
"Aunt, I didn’t bring any ink or brushes," Ye Yunniang said hesitantly.
"You may use mine today. Starting next lesson, bring your own ink, brush, paper, and inkstone."
Ye Yunniang promised to remember.
"Today’s characters are: Lǔ, Wéi, Chāng, Mǎ, Miáo, Fèng, Huā, Fāng, Yú, Rèn, Yuán, Liǔ, Fēng, Bào, Shǐ, Táng." Kong Ci made her repeat them several times until she memorized them, then had her recite them alone.
While Kong Ci moved on to instruct others, she eventually circled back to Ye Yunniang, first testing her on the pronunciation of the new characters.
"Come with me," Kong Ci said, leading her to the lectern and handing her a brush.
She meticulously explained the five-finger brush-holding technique: yè (pressing), yā (pinning), gōu (hooking), gé (resisting), and dǐ (supporting).
"Yè"—the fleshy part of the thumb presses firmly against the brush shaft.
"Yā"—the first joint of the index finger pins the shaft, opposing the thumb’s grip.
"Gōu"—the middle finger curves like a hook to stabilize the shaft.
"Gé"—the space between the nail and flesh of the ring finger braces the shaft from the inside, pushing it outward.
"Dǐ"—the little finger presses close to the ring finger, reinforcing its outward push.
After detailing the technique, she emphasized the essentials:
Fingers must grip firmly, the palm must remain hollow, the wrist should stay level, and the hand must be held upright.
Writing relies on the hand, but the movement of the brush depends on the wrist. Depending on the size of the characters, different wrist techniques are used. For small characters, the wrist should rest on the table; for medium-sized characters, the wrist should be lifted slightly; and for large characters, the wrist must be suspended entirely.
After explaining this, Kong Ci dipped the brush in ink and began writing the character "Zhao."
Once Kong Ci finished, she stood up and yielded her seat. "Now, sit down and try writing the same way I did."
Ye Yunniang sat down and mimicked Kong Ci's actions—grasping the brush, dipping it in ink, and drawing the first horizontal stroke.
She had practiced writing with a stick in a sand tray until her hand no longer trembled, allowing her to write fluidly. She thought handling a brush would be just as easy.
But no one had told her that the brush tip was soft and prone to dripping ink. The paper bore not only a horizontal stroke but also two ink blots.
"Usually, we only dip the brush tip one-third into the ink. If it's too saturated, you can scrape off the excess ink along the edge of the inkstone. This keeps the brush tip neat and improves the writing. Be gentle when scraping to avoid damaging the bristles."
Kong Ci corrected Ye Yunniang's mistakes one by one.
Following the guidance, Ye Yunniang gradually adjusted her grip, ink-dipping, scraping, and writing techniques. After a day of practice, her hands felt even more exhausted than after carrying a child all day.
Ye Yunniang left Xiaosong Residence and headed back to Zhiyu Pavilion.
On the way, she encountered a patrol team conducting inspections.
The same routine questions followed—name? Which courtyard do you work in? What is your purpose here?
Before she could finish answering, she was interrupted.
"What are you sneaking around for?" One of the patrol members noticed a maidservant peeking from a distance.
Following the shout, they saw a girl in gray linen clothes dart away like a startled deer, fleeing down a narrow path.
"After her!" The leader barked, and the team gave chase.
With the patrol gone, Ye Yunniang gathered her things to leave, but after just two steps, she was stopped.
"Stay there. Don’t move," ordered a patrol member who quickly returned.
Frustrated, Ye Yunniang stood still, flexing her sore wrist to ease the ache.
"Sister, why are you standing here?" Li'er approached, carrying a food box.
Ye Yunniang took the box from Li'er and immediately noticed it was much heavier than usual.
"It’s so heavy?"
"Inside isn’t just your dinner—there are also sixteen zongzi. Yesterday, I arrived too late, and the kitchen had already run out. Today, I made sure to go early."
Li'er explained while counting on her fingers. "Nanny Shi and I get one each, you and Taohong the wet nurse get four, and Aunt Lan gets six. The kitchen said there are sweet, savory, and plain white rice zongzi. Which kind do you prefer?"
Ye Yunniang had only ever eaten plain white rice zongzi before. She had never tasted the sweet or savory varieties.
"What flavors do the sweet and savory ones have?"
"Sweet ones include brown sugar, red bean, sweet bean paste, honeyed dates, and eight-treasure mix. Savory ones have fresh pork, cured meat, salted egg yolk, ham, and spare ribs." Li'er listed the options. "Which would you like?"
Ye Yunniang swallowed hard—she wanted to try them all.
"I’ll have one plain, two sweet, and one savory," she decided after a pause. "But let Aunt Lan and Taohong choose first. Send me whatever remains after they’ve picked."
After resting briefly, Li'er regained her strength and carried the food box back to Zhiyu Pavilion.
The patrol team returned, dragging along the maidservant in gray linen who had tried to flee. They inspected Ye Yunniang’s belongings and, finding nothing amiss, finally dismissed her.
"You may go."
Ye Yunniang gathered her books and headed toward Zhiyu Pavilion, not daring to glance at the maidservant beside her.
At the turn of the corridor, she caught a fleeting glimpse from the corner of her eye.
The maid stood deathly pale, trembling from head to toe, her entire being steeped in despair.
