Chapter 15: Humiliation from the Servants

Madam Jiang's spirits soared upon seeing Mei Zhen; she not only felt her illness had vanished but that her body was reinvigorated as well. It is said that a troubled heart is the hardest to heal—her ailments had stemmed from worry over her daughter, Jiang Lanfeng, who had run off. Now, with her daughter safely returned and reunited with her dear friend, all was well again. Even Ying Shuo silently consented to Madam Jiang’s request to rise from bed and join the table.

Jiang Lanfeng’s eyes were still red from crying; she clung to her mother’s arm and refused to let go. “Mother, I’ll never run off again!”

“That’s enough! I know what’s in your heart, but how could I not worry when you’re out there all alone?” Madam Jiang gently tapped her beloved daughter’s nose and smiled dotingly. “If only you had someone trustworthy by your side, someone who could protect you, how wonderful that would be!”

“Mother! What are you saying? I’m still so young…” Jiang Lanfeng blushed, sneaking a glance at Ying Shuo. Though they’d only spent a single day together, Ying Shuo’s presence felt fated, as though destiny itself had arranged their meeting. She was quite satisfied with his conduct—if only her elder sister weren’t already betrothed to him…

The group made their way to the banquet hall and took their seats around the grand table, lively conversation filling the air. The maids brought in dish after dish—mountain delicacies and seafood alike—filling the room with tantalizing aromas. Ying Shuo was initially seated beside Jiang Qingyue, who was clearly displeased. Without a fuss, he simply moved his seat behind Jiang Lanfeng. What surprised Ying Shuo even more was that the steward and Xin Qi were also allowed to dine at the table.

“Compared to what history tells us, this place seems rather progressive,” he mused.

The table was soon laden with every manner of food—rich and light, land and sea—the sort of meal where the dishes outnumber the guests two to one, a veritable display of quiet opulence.

Jiang’s father was in high spirits, dispensing with formalities. “Eat and drink as you please,” he declared.

Upon hearing this, Ying Shuo’s eyes lit up. He was just about to try the sashimi fugu to test his constitution, when the steward abruptly stood, raised his cup, and addressed him.

“Young Master Ying, my son was reckless and nearly ruined everything. I ask both you and Master Jiang and Madam Jiang for your forgiveness.” With that, he drained his cup in one go, showing it to all present, then clapped Xin Qi heartily on the shoulder.

Only now did Ying Shuo realize: the steward and Xin Qi were father and son, both serving the Jiang household.

At first, Xin Qi had confronted him with sword in hand—understandable, as he was simply protecting his mistress. But now that Madam Jiang had openly acknowledged Ying Shuo as their future son-in-law, things had changed. Whether the match would come to pass was another matter, but it was only prudent not to offend the favored candidate.

The steward was shrewd, but his son Xin Qi was stubborn as an ox and refused to toast Ying Shuo. Ying Shuo, seeing this, couldn’t be bothered to take offense. After all, if one wishes to accomplish great things, one must be magnanimous—stooping to quarrel with a servant would hardly befit a prospective son-in-law. Besides, appearances must be maintained before his future in-laws.

With a hearty laugh, Ying Shuo waved his hand. “Ah, Steward Xin, why such words? Young men are meant to be bold! I find Xin Qi to be genuine, not the least bit hypocritical. He was first to rush in and protect the young lady, which speaks volumes of his loyalty. The Jiang family is fortunate indeed to have you two.”

He poured himself a cup and raised it to toast the steward, who was both flattered and flustered, quickly filling his own cup and replying respectfully, “Young Master Ying, I couldn’t possibly! It’s not fitting for a guest to toast a servant.”

“Tsk! Steward Xin, don’t be so formal. We’re all family here. I’ll drink—join me as you wish!”

So overwhelmed was the steward that his hands trembled. He looked to his master for approval, and when he received a nod, downed the cup in one gulp, even pouring himself another to finish.

In the Kingdom of Qinyang, for a master to toast a servant was the highest form of recognition—an honor akin to welcoming one into the family. For a guest to do so was even more prestigious, surpassing any ordinary honor. After all, only the host and guest typically exchanged toasts; it was unheard of for a guest to bypass the host and toast a servant.

Ying Shuo was well aware of this, and purposely refrained from toasting Jiang’s father. If the old man cared little for him, Ying Shuo would simply drink with the household staff instead.

The two drank heartily, devouring good food with every cup, soon challenging each other to drinking games while those around them looked on in embarrassment.

“He truly is an uncouth, ill-bred son of humble origins,” Jiang Qingyue muttered under her breath, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Jiang’s father could bear it no longer and was about to rise, at the very least to remind Ying Shuo of his presence.

But Xin Qi beat him to it, abruptly standing up. “Young Master Ying, I was thoughtless just now. I never imagined you’d be so magnanimous, bearing no grudge and drinking with my father. My own pettiness stands in poor comparison.”

Having said this, it was as if he’d spent the last of his strength—his mouth parched, he seized a jar of wine and guzzled it down, leaving everyone dumbfounded. In no time, his face was flushed to his ears, and he let out a deep, wine-scented belch.

“What a capacity! What a capacity!” Ying Shuo laughed heartily at this comical scene, nearly applauding the young man.

The lively atmosphere on one end of the table contrasted sharply with the tense silence on the other. Madam Jiang grew ever fonder of Ying Shuo. A young man ought to be free-spirited and broad-minded—such qualities were most desirable! Though Ying Shuo appeared rather down-and-out at first glance, he was anything but pretentious. His willingness to attend the feast without fear showed courage, and his readiness to drink with the servants proved his humility and adaptability—a truly promising character.

Perceptive as she was, Madam Jiang elbowed her husband.

Jiang’s father, no fool himself, swiftly joined in the merriment, urging drink upon the trio with a laugh. “Young Master Ying, your capacity for drink is impressive! You saved my wife—these fine dishes and good wine are well deserved. May I ask, what reward would you desire? Whatever the Jiang family possesses, I shall gladly offer it!”

His words were tactful and left no room for offense, suggesting he was open to any request, while in truth keeping the true treasures close to his chest.

“Crafty old fox! Not a word about your precious daughter!” Ying Shuo cursed inwardly, though his face betrayed nothing. “I came here to assist the second young lady. The task isn’t yet complete—how could I presume to ask for a reward?”

His reply was equally shrewd.

“I’ve heard that Master Zhao is a man of great repute, a savior to Old Master Jiang and gravely ill. To speak of rewards now is premature. I should focus on treating his illness—after all, soon I must set out for the capital to sit the imperial examinations.”

At the mention of curing Master Zhao, Mei Zhen’s elegant smile grew, clearly intrigued. Hearing of the journey to the capital in pursuit of scholarly honor, Madam Jiang’s eyes also shone.

Yet before either could speak, someone else interjected.

Jiang Qingyue, who had barely contained herself all evening, finally lost patience. She slammed her chopsticks down and, her face drawn in disdain, sneered, “You? Traveling to the capital for the examinations? Have you looked at yourself? You probably barely know a handful of characters!”