Volume One, Chapter Seven: How Can One Wear Such a Sheer Garment?

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Yaoyan shook her head, feeling utterly exhausted. “The eldest young master is seldom at the residence and doesn’t allow me to follow him. At night, there’s no one to sleep with either...”

Madam Wu nodded, knowing she had come from the princess Fangcong’s quarters, and so she didn’t press further. She merely instructed Ping’er to accompany Yaoyan for company.

Ping’er clutched two small parcels in her arms, chattering nonstop along the way. “Yaoyan, the eldest young master didn’t touch you? Didn’t hold you to sleep?”

“No,” Yaoyan sighed. She actually hoped Xiao Huai would touch her—only then could she leave sooner. Hearing this, she replied, “You’ll see when you go. The eldest young master looks cold and unapproachable. I’m afraid even to get close, let alone meet his gaze.”

Her words were half-truths. While Xiao Huai did seem stern, he never punished her. Yet being locked outside in the cold for an hour last time had left a shadow of fear she couldn’t shake.

“Oh,” Ping’er found it dull, not expecting this outcome. She grumbled, “You’re so pretty, I thought it would happen quickly.”

From a lowly maid sweeping floors to now serving Yaoyan personally, Ping’er truly believed Yaoyan was meant to be the eldest young master’s concubine. Otherwise, why else would she be assigned to serve her?

With that thought, Ping’er’s smile grew wider. She recounted recent happenings downstairs, “You don’t know, when you went to serve the second young master’s room, Bai Lu and the others were furious. They whispered nasty things about you every day. But I think you’re lucky—the eldest young master kept you, so he must like you.”

“If not tonight, then tomorrow. We’re not in a rush—by the day after, the eldest young master surely won’t be able to resist.”

As they spoke, they arrived at Xiao Huai’s courtyard. Yaoyan pointed toward the side wing where she stayed during the day, whispering, “I’ll serve the eldest young master tonight. You can sleep there. There aren’t many servants in his courtyard, but none are bad. Just be careful.”

Her words made it sound like entering a den of wolves. Ping’er patted her chest confidently, “Don’t worry, Yaoyan. I know all about this—I might even call you Aunt Yaoyan someday.”

“Aunt Yaoyan?”

Xiao Huai had already returned home. Known for his keen hearing, he caught every word Ping’er said in his study without missing a syllable. He flipped the pages of his book and remarked, “Ambitious indeed.”

As long as Yaoyan didn’t trouble him, he was content. Having someone to fend off his mother and grandmother’s nagging, and otherwise being as silent and still as a porcelain doll, he was satisfied for now.

Yet, the prospect of her becoming a concubine was unlikely to come true.

·

Yaoyan had long suspected that Madam Wu’s sudden visit during the day meant she had a task for her. Now, seeing the items Ping’er produced, she hesitated.

Inside the small parcel was a finely crafted garment, thin as cicada wings, translucent enough to let light pass through.

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Ping’er held the garment up against Yaoyan, excitement brimming in her voice. “The matriarch said you must wear this to the eldest young master’s room tonight. She told you to be mindful—she’s already paved the way and sent you to his bedside. If it doesn’t work, then it’s on you.”

Ping’er was oblivious to the deeper meaning behind the matriarch’s words, taking them as simple instructions. Yaoyan, however, understood: if the matriarch could use a servitude contract to send her, she could easily replace her with someone else.

Yaoyan was determined not to miss this rare chance.

Her gaze lingered on the garment, the very sight of it chilling her. “Just wear this? Inside or outside?”

“Only this,” Ping’er grinned from ear to ear. “Yaoyan, your figure will surely dazzle the eldest young master!”

·

That night, the snow still fell relentlessly. After washing up as usual, Yaoyan slowly made her way to Xiao Huai’s room. Beneath her cloak, the garment was pitifully thin. Though a thick cloak covered it, she still felt awkward and exposed.

At the door, she steadied her heart and knocked.

Hearing the knock, Xiao Huai pressed his temple and said, “Enter.”

He had no intention of acknowledging her. Once inside, he returned to his meticulous copying of a military treatise.

This volume was penned by a renowned general from the previous dynasty, a unique copy. Xiao Huai planned to transcribe several copies to bring to Jian Nan for his subordinates to study.

A warm fragrance approached. Xiao Huai looked up to see Yaoyan standing about three feet away, seemingly about to speak.

He lowered his head again, coldly ordering, “No talking.”

Yaoyan was stifled, withdrawing her hand from the garment’s ties.

Perhaps from nerves, she could clearly hear her heart pounding like a drum.

Outside, the snow pressed down heavily; the bamboo outside creaked under the weight. The candle’s wick crackled faintly.

Xiao Huai’s high nose cast a shadow on his cheek as he focused intently on his copying.

The garment on Yaoyan was chilling, almost imperceptible to her senses, and her cheeks flushed. She moved to prepare ink for him.

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Seeing he had no intention of acknowledging her, after a moment’s thought, she called softly, “Eldest young master.”

Her voice was unusually gentle today. Xiao Huai’s hand holding the brush paused, then he looked up at her briefly.

She seemed to have applied delicate makeup—her lips were vividly colored, her brows beautifully shaped. Xiao Huai found her more alluring and radiant than in previous days and sensed a mischievous intent.

“Do you have business?”

Her cloak was loosely fastened, revealing the tender white skin beneath the brim of her hood. She seemed warm, a rosy tint on her cheeks.

Xiao Huai’s lips twitched slightly, realizing what she sought. Without mercy, he said, “If you’re hot, go cool off outside.”

In a month or so, he would return to Jian Nan. Just one more month to endure.

As he thought this, his eyes suddenly snapped wide open.

The rabbit fur cloak was warm and heavy; as it fell to the floor, it made a muffled sound.

The woman’s tender skin was revealed like peeled bamboo shoots, her mature form enticing beneath the soft yellow candlelight.

Though Yaoyan shivered in the cold, shoulders slightly hunched, she clearly saw Xiao Huai’s gaze fixed on her, catching a faint, barely perceptible gleam of desire in his eyes.

Born and raised as a cherished daughter in Yangzhou—a land famed for its beauties and gentle women—Yaoyan was one of the finest among them.

At seventeen, her full curves might not fit even in Xiao Huai’s palm; her waist was slender and supple, captivating in every way.

The ink on the rice paper beneath Xiao Huai’s hand had blurred—one copy of the military treatise was ruined.

He slowly rose, closing the distance to the woman who barely reached his shoulder.

With a single hand, he could envelop her completely in his embrace.