Chapter 24: A True Family

Madam Wei still managed to remain rational. She grabbed Nanny Zhao’s hand and said, “You’re not seeing things. What you saw really was Xing’er.”

Nanny Zhao’s eyes widened in shock. She was about to blurt out, “Did the Young Lord suffer some kind of trauma?” when a sudden icy glare silenced her completely.

Xie Yixing was quietly kneading dough. Upon hearing the commotion at the door, he looked up and saw his mother standing there, eyes brimming with tears. Nanny Zhao stood beside her, wearing a look of utter disbelief, as if she had seen a ghost.

But what they didn’t know was that before entering the kitchen, he had already ordered someone to thoroughly clean the entire place.

The water stains on the floor hadn’t even dried yet. The stove had been wiped down three times, inside and out. Even the hearth had been cleared of ashes. Only then did he allow himself to step inside.

Compared to before, he had indeed changed a great deal.

Back then, aside from Wei Rui Courtyard and the front courtyard, he had no interest in any other part of the residence—let alone the greasy, smoke-filled kitchen.

The kitchen was used daily for cooking, and it reeked of oil smoke.

Chef Shen, knowing how severe the young lord’s obsession with cleanliness was, had originally planned to take over the task of making the longevity noodles himself, hoping to earn some favor and make amends. But Xie Yixing firmly refused.

Though the young lord was cold and expressionless, he was also stubborn to the core.

Once he made up his mind about something, he would see it through to the end.

At first, Chef Shen was cautious, afraid to get too close, fearing the young lord—being so young—might lose his grip and accidentally drop a kitchen knife or rolling pin on him. But after fifteen minutes, he realized that the young lord was absolutely determined to make the bowl of longevity noodles himself. Only then did he let down his guard.

“Young Lord, your kneading technique is off. It should be three pushes to the left, two to the right. That’s how you get a dough with the right elasticity.”

“Hey, yes, just like that! Young Lord, put a bit more strength into it.”

Having just escaped death once, Chef Shen had grown bolder. He even dared to raise his voice while speaking to Xie Yixing now.

He was facing away from Madam Wei at that moment, thinking there were only the two of them in the kitchen.

He was even secretly delighted, thinking he had managed to become the young lord’s “teacher.” But as soon as he turned around, he nearly fainted from fright.

“L-Lady Wei, when did you arrive?”

Nervously clenching his fingers, he didn’t know what to say.

Was he speaking too loudly just now?

The young lord hadn’t said anything… surely the lady wouldn’t either?

At the gate, Caiwei craned her little head and peeked into the kitchen a few times. Seeing that nothing alarming had happened, she drew back and continued focusing on her paper-cutting.

She’d heard from Yao Yao that her eldest sister was incredibly talented—not only could she sew, she could do paper-cutting too.

Caiwei also wanted to learn how to cut paper. That way, when the New Year came, she could cut Yao Yao’s favorite little rabbits for her.

Meanwhile, in Wei Rui Courtyard.

Yao Yao had just woken up. Rubbing her eyes, she noticed how empty and quiet the space was. She immediately sat up and started looking for someone.

“Persimmon Brother?”

“Persimmon Brother, where are you?”

Every time she had woken up before, Xie Yixing would be sitting by her bed, patting her head and wiping her hands and face with a warm, damp cloth. But today, she called out several times, and no one responded.

Still caught in the remnants of a dream, Yao Yao suddenly remembered the night when her mother abandoned her. A wave of sorrow rose in her chest.

It felt like she’d just swallowed a sour jujube—its bitterness spreading from her tongue to the depths of her heart.

But this time, she held back her tears.

Starting today, she was five years old.

Her eldest sister had said that once she turned five, she’d be a big girl and able to take on responsibility.

Although she didn’t quite know what “take on responsibility” meant—maybe it meant she’d finally be allowed to eat delicious noodles?

Speaking of noodles, she remembered the longevity noodles her mother had promised to make for her.

Her mother’s noodles were fragrant, soft, and melted in the mouth. She hadn’t had them in a long time.

Uncle Shen had mentioned earlier that her mother was some descendant of the Luo family, and that she held a lost Luo family recipe. But her mother had never told her any of that.

All she remembered was her mother hugging her and saying her maternal grandparents had died, her siblings had died too, and that she was the only one left.

Every time her mother talked about those things, she would cry. Yao Yao would help wipe her mother’s tears and tell her, “When I grow up, I’ll protect you.”

But now, before she had grown up, her mother had already left her behind.

Yao Yao dug her nails into her thigh, trying hard not to cry. But thinking about how she had looked forward to her birthday for so long and now didn’t have a single family member by her side, she couldn’t help feeling sad again.

What were her mother and the others doing now?

Yao Yao hopped down from the bed, climbed onto a stool, and struggled to open the window. Outside was a blanket of snow, and only the bare apricot tree stood in the courtyard. She clasped her hands together and started making a wish.

“Dear Immortal Uncle, Yao Yao promises you, if you let me see my mama again, I’ll always save you a piece of cake when I eat. I really mean it. Please help Yao Yao’s wish come true!”

Just then, the nanny opened the door. Seeing Yao Yao leaning out the window, she was so startled she nearly dropped the water kettle.

She had only stepped away for a moment, and Yao Yao had already woken up.

Thinking the little girl would be hungry upon waking, she had left her favorite plum blossom pastries by the bed.

But upon walking closer, she saw that Yao Yao had placed the pastries on the windowsill and was muttering something softly to herself.

Every now and then she heard something like “Immortal” or “wish,” and decided not to interrupt her.

Only when Yao Yao finished making her wish did the nanny step forward and lift her down, leaving the pastry on the windowsill untouched.

The nanny understood that for Yao Yao to be willing to offer her pastries in exchange for a wish, it had to be something very important.

Yao Yao was very obedient. When she saw the nanny adding hot water to a basin, she immediately stretched out her chubby little hands and handed over her handkerchief. “Yao Yao wants to be clean and tidy to go see Persimmon Brother.”

The nanny suddenly remembered something. She was about to tell Yao Yao that she probably wouldn’t be able to see the young lord for a while, but then thought better of it, afraid she might slip up. So instead, she gently patted the child’s head and changed the subject.

“The young lord left you a copybook to practice your calligraphy.”

Lately, Xie Yixing had been teaching Yao Yao how to write, hand-in-hand. Yao Yao was smart—she quickly learned how to hold a brush.

After only three days, she could already write her own name.

Xie Yixing was very impressed by her learning ability.

Each day, after finishing his own schoolwork, he would pull the chubby girl into his lap and help her practice her writing.

Yao Yao’s little hands were pale and soft, perfectly fitting within his larger ones.

And since Yao Yao was especially encouraging—praising him every time she learned a new character—Xie Yixing became even more enthusiastic.

Even the nanny and Caiwei were surprised to discover how many characters the young lord could recognize.

They had always assumed the young lord’s only real skill was having neat handwriting.

Even Madam Wei had said she didn’t expect her son to accomplish great things, as long as he could grow up healthy.

After all, before Yao Yao came, the young lord had been notoriously hard to please. The preparations before each meal took longer than the time he spent eating.

But now that Yao Yao was here, they shared a table. Seeing her finish a whole bowl of rice made him increase his own portion, and now he could even eat half a bowl—already a great improvement.

Madam Wei was surprised to see that her son had grown taller and looked stronger than before. His once distant and elegant face had started to show traces of warmth and humanity.

In the quiet afternoon, slivers of sunlight fell across him through a crack in the wall. Xie Yixing stood silently at the dough board, his dark blue robe outlining his slim frame. His lips were pressed into a firm line, and his eyes were filled with intense focus.

But inside, his heart beat wildly like a startled deer.

Once Yao Yao ate the longevity noodles he made with his own hands, she would truly become his family.

He would never abandon her.

And he would never allow her to leave him.