Chapter 4: Yueli

Qingyun stood where she was, feeling a faint chill creep into her hands and feet.

She wetted her slightly dry lips, then looked at Huang Liang again, trying to find even the slightest trace of a joke on his face.

“Steward Huang, you mean... you want me to take care of the... Bai family’s Eldest Young Miss in this courtyard?” She spoke the words “Bai family’s Eldest Young Miss” very slowly, as though confirming them, yet also probing in disbelief.

Huang Liang nodded. There was no extra expression on his face, as though he were speaking of the most ordinary assignment in the world. “Yes.”

He paused, his gaze passing over the tightly shut door, then added, “We tried finding a few others before. Quick-handed ones, older ones, those who knew how to care for people—we tried them all.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, forming a faint smile of unclear meaning. “Unfortunately, not one of them stayed long. The shortest lasted three to five days. The longest did not make it past half a month. In the end, every one of them begged to be transferred away, each with a different excuse.”

Qingyun’s heart tightened. Sure enough, this “good posting” was not as simple as it sounded. She asked instinctively,

“Is it because... this Young Miss has a bad temper and likes making things difficult for the servants?”

For the moment, she could think of no other reason.

Huang Liang did not answer directly. He turned and walked toward the door, leaving behind only a single sentence.

“You will understand once you go inside.”

His hand rested against the old wooden door, yet he did not push it open immediately, as though he had suddenly remembered something. Turning half his face toward her, he said in a calm tone,

“Oh, there is one thing you need to understand. The one inside, though she is a young miss of the Bai family, does not bear the Master’s surname.”

Does not bear the Bai surname?

Qingyun froze again.

This was almost unheard of. Great families valued bloodlines and surnames above all else. For a child not to take the father’s surname, the rejection and disdain hidden within it were practically written in plain sight.

This was not merely a matter of being unloved. It was a deliberate exile, a deliberate severing.

“Then... how should I address her?” she asked carefully.

“Call her ‘Young Miss,’” Huang Liang replied, leaving no room for doubt in his tone. “In this residence—especially outside this courtyard—you must know in your own heart how she is to be addressed.”

He paused for a moment, as though dangling bait before her, or else stating a term of a contract. “While working here, aside from the three daily meals provided by the residence, you will also receive five silver coins in wages each month.”

Five silver coins!

Qingyun’s breathing stalled almost imperceptibly.

The amount was far beyond anything she had expected. After all, the price for which she had been sold into the residence had only been ten strings of cash in total—equivalent to a single silver coin.

Yet here, one month of work would earn her five!

That was nearly enough to cover one or two years of living expenses for an ordinary farming household outside.

A faint glimmer of hope, so weak it was almost fragile, suddenly pierced through the haze of gloom and unease in her heart.

If she could work here steadily for several months—or even a year or two—then the money she saved might...

Might it be possible for her to buy back her indenture contract?

Even if she could not leave the Bai Residence at once, this money still meant a kind of possibility for the future—a faint one, but real. It meant a measure of choice.

The thought was so tempting that it almost instantly crushed down the doubts and fear she had felt moments ago.

The corners of her mouth lifted of their own accord, revealing a faint smile mixed with surprise and longing.

Huang Liang took in her reaction completely. A trace of understanding flashed through his eyes, along with a complicated expression that bordered on pity.

Of course he knew the pay was absurdly generous. But precisely because of that, the money was all the more scalding to hold.

He did not say so. He only turned around and pushed open the heavy wooden door with a creak.

The room within was even dimmer than the courtyard outside.

The windows were shut tight. Only a few thin strands of light slipped through gaps in the torn window paper, barely illuminating the dust floating in the air.

The furnishings were extremely simple—so simple they could almost be called crude.

An old wooden table, two stools, and a cabinet with peeling paint. Beyond that, there was almost nothing at all. The air was filled with the smell of old wood, dust, and the faint scent of medicinal herbs.

Qingyun’s eyes quickly adjusted to the gloom, and then she saw the figure sitting on the bed farther inside.

It was a little girl who looked to be around seven or eight years old.

She wore a dress that was neither new nor entirely worn out. The fabric seemed good enough, but it lacked any decoration, and its color was far too dull.

She hugged her knees, her back pressed tightly against the cold wall, her whole body curled into the corner of the bed.

What drew the eye most was her appearance.

She had a rare head of silver-white hair, as though moonlight itself were flowing down in strands. It had not been carefully combed, and fell somewhat messily over her shoulders.

Her face was very small, her chin sharp, and her complexion was the pale white of one who had never seen sunlight.

But most unforgettable of all were her eyes—not the usual black or brown, but a clear, brilliant gold, as though molten sunlight had been poured into them.

At this moment, those golden eyes were fixed on the uninvited guests at the doorway without blinking, filled with wariness and distance.

When Qingyun saw her clearly for the first time, a trace of astonishment rose in her heart despite herself.

The girl’s features were far too exquisite, like a porcelain doll painstakingly crafted by a master artisan, carrying a fragile beauty that felt almost inhuman.

But that astonishment vanished as quickly as it came.

Huang Liang stepped forward two paces. His tone was formally respectful, yet a lingering sense of distance clung to it all the same. “Young Miss Yueli, this is the new maid. Her name is Qingyun. From now on, she will attend to your daily needs.”

Yueli... Young Miss?

Qingyun had still been faintly distracted by the girl’s unusual hair and eye color, but when the name “Yueli” entered her ears clearly, she froze slightly.

A young miss of the Bai Residence... yet not surnamed Bai... and named Yueli...

Those fragments of information collided wildly in her mind, slotting together in an instant and pulling forth a piece of knowledge from her previous life that she had nearly forgotten in some dusty corner of memory.

A novel...

An online novel she had skimmed through while slacking off during overtime at work...

The heroine in that story seemed to have been just such a girl—someone of tragic birth, despised by her family, with silver hair and golden eyes.

And her name had been—

Yueli.

She no longer remembered the details of the plot clearly. But there was one scene, so brutal and shocking that it had remained branded into her memory.

Later in the story, after the heroine Yueli had reached adulthood, she returned to the Bai Residence together with her fated companion, carrying boundless hatred and overwhelming power.

That night, flames soared into the heavens, and the sound of slaughter filled the wilds.

Yueli personally killed her birth father, her legitimate elder brother Young Master Haotian, and every member of the Bai family who had once bullied or ignored her.

It was said that on that night, blood flowed like rivers through the Bai Residence. Hardly anyone survived. Even many innocent servants had failed to escape.

“If I serve her... then in the future... am I doomed to die too?”

Qingyun’s mouth twitched.

The doll-like girl before her, with those guarded golden eyes, no longer seemed merely distant in Qingyun’s sight.

They looked more like a sign of the sea of blood and ruin that awaited in the future.

It was as though she could already see herself years from now, lying dead somewhere in this ruined courtyard—or in some other corner of the Bai Residence.

After making the introduction, Huang Liang noticed that Qingyun had said nothing. He frowned slightly and gave a low cough in reminder.

Qingyun came back to herself and met Huang Liang’s faintly puzzled, appraising gaze. Then she caught sight of the girl on the bed, still staring at her with those golden eyes.

And in that instant, she could not help regretting why she had agreed to this assignment so readily in the first place.