The Little Servant I Picked Up

Mingyue had been holding onto Qin Shi the entire time, too frightened to pay any attention to her surroundings, only wishing to escape this situation as soon as possible. So when a lantern suddenly appeared in Qin Shi’s hand, her spirits lifted. But her joy was short-lived, for the same white mist from the very beginning reappeared before her eyes. Mingyue thought she was about to be transported somewhere else again and gripped Qin Shi's hand tightly in anxiety. Yet when her vision cleared, she realized they were back at Yearning Pavilion.

“Haha, wonderful, I’m finally back!” Mingyue shouted, only to realize afterwards that both the woman and the young boy were staring at her in terror.

The woman curled her lips and said, “You said I’m the one drunk, but it seems to me that you’re the one who’s tipsy. You’ve been sitting here the whole time listening to my stories, so why say you’ve come back?” As if seeking confirmation, the woman turned to the young boy and asked, “Did she leave?”

The little boy shook his head repeatedly. Only then did the woman sneer dismissively.

Mingyue was once again bewildered and instinctively looked at Qin Shi. She saw him approach the woman, holding a coin-like object in his hand, and said, “This should belong to you.”

“What is it?” The woman accepted it and held it up to the moon for inspection. After a moment, tears welled up in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks, falling at last onto the object in her hand.

At that very instant, the lantern in Qin Shi’s hand erupted in a brilliant blue light. Orange vines stretched forth from the transparent wick, finally curling at the top into a lantern blossom. Both Mingyue and the little boy were captivated by the sight, while the woman seemed to snap out of her trance, pressing her brow with weary fingers and asking, “What happened? A Mu, how many days until we reach home?”

“Young mistress, you want to return?” The little boy tore his eyes from the lantern, asking in delighted surprise.

The woman shot him a look. “Of course. Didn’t my parents send you to bring me home? I’ve had enough of wandering outside—if I don’t return soon, how could my parents not worry?”

The little boy nodded repeatedly, replying, “Then please go rest, young mistress. We’ll set out for home at dawn tomorrow.”

The woman nodded and rose, walking to the room Mingyue had prepared for her. After tending to her sleep, the little boy came out and gratefully presented Mingyue with a hefty sum of silver. “Thank you, miss, and you, young master, for helping my mistress be freed from her longing. I, A Mu, will never forget this favor.”

He left the silver and departed, leaving Mingyue at a loss. Though delighted with the money, she was now far more curious about the lantern blossom that had bloomed at the heart of Qin Shi’s lamp. She felt a persistent itch of desire, an impulse to taste the flower. But was it edible? Torn between curiosity and caution, Mingyue stood frozen, uncertain whether to approach or not.

In the end, Qin Shi seemed to guess her thoughts, plucked the lantern blossom, and handed it to her.

After a brief hesitation, Mingyue popped it into her mouth. It melted instantly, but a deep bitterness lingered on her tongue and lips, refusing to fade. Mingyue involuntarily squinted and furrowed her brow, instantly regretting her curiosity—how bitter it was!

“Master, your eyes have returned to normal,” Qin Shi remarked.

Mingyue opened her eyes slightly. “Were they not normal just now?”

“Ever since she lit the lantern, they were odd. But just now, they returned to normal,” Qin Shi replied. As he spoke, the lantern in his hand faded from sight and he turned to head for the storeroom.

Mingyue stuck out her tongue and muttered, then returned to her room to examine herself carefully in the bronze mirror. Her left eye showed nothing strange. If Qin Shi hadn’t lied, then the oddity in her eyes must be tied to all of this. Mingyue pressed her left eye closer to the mirror, trying to see more clearly…

Suddenly she jolted awake, wiping sweat from her brow and taking a sip of cold tea from the cup at her bedside.

Once again, she had returned to the starting scene. Why was that? Mingyue sat up, shivering as a breeze drifted in through the window. She pulled her quilt up tighter. That pair of master and servant had been gone for a long time now. Though the silver the little boy had given was generous, Mingyue hadn’t forgotten the hardships she’d endured in the vast illusion of Canglan. Of all the stories she’d experienced, that woman’s was the most fantastical. Such a simple tale, yet she insisted on adding all sorts of martial conflicts, dragging Mingyue into a taste of life in the underworld.

But in truth, Mingyue had been more startled than genuinely harmed. She recalled that Qin Shi had stepped in to shield her several times. At the time, she’d assumed that injuries in the Canglan illusion weren’t real and hadn’t paid it much mind, only to learn later that wasn’t so. More recently, in Kangsheng’s illusion, Qin Shi had even taken a sword for her. In fact, counting it all up, Qin Shi had protected her from many dangers.

Mingyue threw on an outer robe and stood by the window, looking toward Qin Shi’s room. It had originally belonged to Yun Niang and was slightly larger than her own. At first, she hadn’t planned to give it to Qin Shi, but there wasn’t another livable room in the courtyard, and she was unwilling to move herself. After a few days of grumbling, she finally let him have it. When that master and servant pair had arrived, she’d unhesitatingly driven Qin Shi to the storeroom. Remembering this, Mingyue blushed and muttered under her breath, “It was just for the silver—otherwise, how could we keep two people alive?”

Even as she said this, Mingyue couldn’t help but laugh. Only now did she realize how tolerant and accommodating Qin Shi had been to her. Bringing him home had truly been a stroke of luck—this little servant was indeed a treasure.

After a while, Mingyue closed the window partway and returned to bed.

The people from the Yi family never came looking for her again, and Mingyue couldn’t be bothered to investigate further. She suddenly felt that living like this was rather nice—simple, without worries, and free from unnecessary troubles. Meanwhile, the reputation of Yearning’s Thread was growing ever more renowned in secret, and every few days new patrons would come knocking at her door.

Most requests were simple tales. Yet after hearing one story after another, Mingyue realized she hadn’t forgotten the first few. Sometimes, she wondered how Jun Xiao and Qingyi were faring. Had the shamanic sect found some way to make Qingyi forget Jun Xiao? Otherwise, how could her gaze have been so pure and untainted back then? And what of Zhushu now? Was Kangsheng, or rather Tang Li, doing well?

She supposed they must be. Mingyue had once received a letter from Zhushu, the crooked script unmistakably taught by Kangsheng. She read it several times—the letter said Tang Li now held a high office and those who had oppressed him had all met their comeuppance. Each time she finished reading, Mingyue felt a faint confusion, but with little free time these days, she soon put it out of her mind.

One day, while Mingyue and Qin Shi were out shopping, they unexpectedly ran into the neighborly old lady. The woman stared for a long time before recognizing Mingyue and patted her hand in satisfaction. “You’ve finally grown up, girl, and found yourself a good man to settle down with.”

Qin Shi remained expressionless, but Mingyue felt somewhat embarrassed. After a few more words with the old lady, she dragged Qin Shi home, secretly vowing never to go out shopping with him again to avoid any more misunderstandings.

Before they reached Yearning Pavilion, a familiar face called out, “Hey, Mingyue! I think someone important has arrived at your place—you and Qin Shi should hurry back to have a look.”

Mingyue nodded and quickened her pace in confusion. At the gate, they saw a plain, elegant sedan chair surrounded by nearly twenty black-clad guards. Mingyue was startled. One of the guards stepped forward. “Miss, my mistress invites you in.”

Mingyue handed her purchases to Qin Shi and told him to head to the back courtyard. Carefully lifting the beaded curtain, she entered the sedan and was greeted by a stunning beauty with skin fairer than snow. If Qingyi’s beauty had been like a blazing fire, eager to consume the world, or a fragile, rootless water plant that inspired pity, then this woman was the snowy peak of a lofty mountain—dignified, pure, and clear, inspiring awe from afar.

Noticing the woman's hairpin, Mingyue ventured to ask, “Madam, may I ask your name?”

“Just call me Chuxue,” the beauty replied with a wave of her hand. “I’ve come to ask for your help, Mingyue. Of course, there will be a reward.”

“Yearning’s Thread?”

Chuxue nodded, removing a hairpin. “This is a deposit. When the time is right, I’ll send someone to inform you.”

“Forgive my boldness, but may I ask on whose behalf you seek Yearning’s Thread?”

Chuxue paused, then smiled softly. Mingyue felt all her worries melt away and couldn’t help but marvel at the woman’s presence. Then she heard her reply, “Naturally, it’s for myself. I’ve come in person to show my sincerity, hoping for your confirmation.”