Chapter 6: Keep Calm and Carry On

Song Huan had given up on the System. It was unreliable.

She was better off relying on herself.

Judging by the way Jin Le had secretly told her, most people in the Marquis Manor probably didn’t know.

Perhaps… Pei Yan didn’t want them to know.

After all, it was strange for the daughter of a minor seventh-rank official to marry a Marquis renowned for his military achievements.

Who knew what Pei Yan was really thinking?

Song Huan’s heart pounded. It seemed she needed to start working on improving her relationship with him immediately.

But how could she do that from a distance, when Pei Yan refused to see her?

Deeply troubled, Song Huan sighed again and again.

Seeing her growing more upset, Jin Le’s round face paled slightly. Was Madam angry with her?

Her little heart trembled as she stammered, “M-Madam…”

Jin Yue’s eyes flashed with concern for Jin Le.

But she knew her younger sister’s nature: a meek lamb in public, a wild tiger in private.

Having spent the past few days with Madam Song, Jin Le had probably gotten carried away, mistaking Madam’s gentle temperament as indulgence.

Perhaps now, after receiving a reprimand and punishment, Jin Le would finally learn her lesson.

With this thought, Jin Yue pressed her lips together and refrained from pleading on her sister’s behalf.

Jin Le, unaware of what she had done wrong, grew increasingly panicked. Her mouth twisted into a pout, and her voice trembled with tears as she finally blurted out, “It… it was that day when Madam Song and the Second Miss came to the manor to see Madam… I… this servant… went to Ming Song Hall to find the Marquis and accidentally overheard Steward Pei and the Marquis talking… Madam, please don’t punish Jin Le…”

Song Huan, who had been lost in thought, was jolted back to reality by the sobbing, fragmented confession. “…?”

Stay calm. Don’t panic.

What just happened?

Why did the plot suddenly turn so serious?

“Jin Le hasn’t told anyone about this, not even Elder Sister. Today… today I saw Madam was unhappy… Madam, please don’t blame Jin Le, waaaah…”

As she spoke, the little maid truly began to cry, her sobs growing more aggrieved.

Song Huan: “……”

What did I do to make the child cry?!

“I’m not blaming you, Xiao Jin Le,” Song Huan said, crouching down to stroke Jin Le’s chubby cheek.

What she did doesn’t matter. First, appease her.

“I was just thinking about when I’d see the Marquis again, so I wasn’t listening carefully. That was my fault, okay?”

Song Huan deftly shifted the blame onto Pei Yan. After a moment’s thought, she added, “But you must never mention the marriage decree to anyone else, understand? Especially not to the Marquis. He has a terrible temper and loves to punish people.”

Nearly everyone in the manor knew how volatile and gloomy Pei Yan could be.

Jin Le, who feared Pei Yan more than anyone else, immediately stopped crying. She wiped her tear-streaked face with her plump little hands and, still sniffling, promised, “Madam! Jin Le… will never… mention it again!”

“Good girl,” Song Huan said, patting her head. “Come on, let’s go. Since I made you cry, I’ll take you to the kitchen for something delicious.”

Jin Le shrank back, fear overtaking her tears. “…Can we skip it?”

What’s delicious in the kitchen? Everything tastes awful!

And Grandpa Li always teases and scares me.

“Of course not,” Song Huan replied.

Suddenly, an idea struck her. She couldn’t see Pei Yan, but she could send him food.

Though she wasn’t a professional chef, she’d supported herself through her own cooking since childhood. Surely her skills were better than those of the Marquis Manor’s cooks… weren’t they?

At the very least, she wouldn’t boil congee until it tasted bitter, stir-fry dishes until they were sweet, or make sweet soups so salty they were inedible…

If she prepared something and sent it to Ming Song Hall, and if Pei Yan had functioning taste buds, he’d surely gain a bit of goodwill toward her.

“Let’s go,” Song Huan said, taking Jin Le’s small hand and striding forward with a cheerful step.

Jin Le puffed out her cheeks in silence, head bowed.

Jin Yue watched Song Huan’s retreating figure in surprise, then sighed softly to herself.

Madam Song was too kind. Within the manor, that gentleness earned people’s respect because everyone was loyal to the Marquis.

But outside… the capital was full of wolves in sheep’s clothing. Even the women behind them were no ordinary folk. With this temperament, Madam Song was bound to suffer eventually.

These words should never have been spoken to Madam.

Jin Yue’s dark, calm eyes hid all the emotions churning within. She stepped forward and followed Song Huan toward the kitchen.

***

These days, Song Huan had nothing to do.

Her only options were eating, drinking, sleeping, and wandering around the Marquis Manor. Except for the forbidden quarters where her stepmother was imprisoned, she had familiarized herself with every person in the manor.

After several rounds of exploration, she realized Pei Yan truly embodied the characteristics of someone who disliked women.

In the vast Marquis Manor, she had only encountered two girls: Jin Yue and Jin Le. Even the kitchen staff—those tending the fire, chopping vegetables, and cooking—were all burly men.

When Song Huan arrived at the kitchen, the courtyard was bustling with activity.

Yet none of the men were actually cooking.

One was practicing swordsmanship with a kitchen knife, another was using a fire poker like a staff, and a third cracked a string of red peppers like a whip.

Meanwhile, Master Li, the head chef, stood in the center, leaning on his cane and chatting with a freshly scrubbed, plump piglet lying on the chopping block.

Jin Le hid timidly behind Song Huan, afraid to show her face.

But Master Li had no interest in teasing her today. His full attention remained on the piglet.

“Madam, what brings you to the kitchen?” Old Li asked, reluctantly turning away from the piglet. He hobbled over with his cane. “It’s not mealtime yet. If you’re hungry, you could have sent Xiao Jin Le or Miss Jin Yue. There was no need to come personally.”

Song Huan glanced at the butcher knife in his hand and felt a wave of pressure. “You misunderstand. I just wanted to borrow the kitchen for a while.”

Old Li’s expression softened. “In that case, Madam, feel free. I’m about to slaughter this pig, so I won’t be able to assist you.”

“No need, no need. Please carry on.”

Old Li turned to leave but paused, hobbling back. “Are you making lunch for the Marquis, Madam?”

Song Huan hesitated. “…Yes.”

Old Li fell silent in thought.

“Does the Marquis have any dietary restrictions?” she ventured.

This question stumped Old Li. The Marquis only ever ate a few bites of anything and never showed a clear preference.

After a long pause, Old Li said, “No specific restrictions. He used to like my scrambled eggs. Once, he even ate half a plate. But recently, he only takes a couple bites. I can’t tell if he still likes them.”

Song Huan: “…” At least he used to love it?

She hadn’t expected someone as cold and twisted as Pei Yan to have such down-to-earth tastes.

Fried eggs? Simple enough.

“Thank you, Master Li.”

Song Huan happily entered the inner kitchen—

And froze in place.

It was a mess. And not just a little messy.

Vegetables, fruits, and meat were piled together chaotically. Fresh and rotting ingredients mixed in a heap. The air reeked of decay, though faint traces of freshness lingered beneath the stench.

This was Song Huan’s first time seeing the inner kitchen, and it made her want to vomit up every meal she’d eaten the past few days.

It was a miracle she was still alive.

“Jin Yue, has this kitchen always been like this? Why haven’t they thrown away the spoiled food and meat?”

Pei Yan wasn’t poor. The silver charcoal burning in the stoves was more expensive than this rotten food.

“Madam, this is a habit formed when the Marquis was stationed at the border,” Jin Yue explained. “Battles were frequent, and supplies scarce. Going hungry for days was common. They became used to never wasting anything.”

Song Huan appreciated the sentiment, but this wasn’t the way to conserve food.

She pointed to the rotting vegetable leaves and nearly spoiled meat. “Can I throw these away?”

Jin Yue: “……”

Jin Le: “……”

“Absolutely not!” The sound of a cane approached rapidly. Old Li’s eyes bulged with fury. He glared at Jin Yue and Jin Le, though clearly speaking to Song Huan. “We don’t tolerate such waste!”

Song Huan glanced at the piglet now lying in a pool of blood. It had been breathing moments ago… and now…

She blinked.

Poor, helpless little creature.

But for the sake of food…

She cleared her throat. “May I explain?”

Old Li let out a dismissive snort.

She took it as permission.

“Forgive me, but meat and vegetables shouldn’t be stored together—”

“Why not? I’ve done it this way for seven or eight years, and we’re all perfectly fine!”

“…It’s wasteful.”

Old Li’s anger flared. “I never waste anything! Every scrap here is precious and meant to be eaten!”

As he spoke, blood dripped from the butcher knife in his hand…

Song Huan: …I’m backing down. I’m backing down.

“Then I won’t throw it away. I’ll do as you say.”

“That’s more like it…” Old Li was about to continue lecturing her, but suddenly stopped, hardened his expression, and turned to leave.

“Madam, don’t mind Grandpa Li,” Jin Le whispered. “He’s just stubborn. Sometimes even the Marquis can’t change his mind.”

Song Huan’s eyes lit up. Someone who isn’t afraid of Pei Yan?

***

Song Huan prepared several egg dishes, the only ingredients she found intact.

Tomato scrambled eggs, green pepper scrambled eggs, tomato egg soup, and steamed egg custard.

Jin Le nearly drooled at the aroma.

“Take one portion back to our courtyard,” Song Huan instructed, “and send the other to Ming Song Hall.”

She had Jin Yue carry theirs back to Returning Spring Courtyard while she and Jin Le delivered the other to Ming Song Hall.

As expected, Pei Chen intercepted them again.

“We’re not going in,” Song Huan said, handing over the food box. “Just give this lunch to your Marquis.”

Pei Chen looked at her, surprised.

“If he hasn’t returned,” she added, “then you can eat it. Don’t waste it.”

Just as she finished speaking, a sudden chill swept the air.

Song Huan turned around—

And saw Pei Yan.

Draped in dark robes, gaze cold as frost. He looked as though he had spent the night submerged in a bottomless, frozen pool.

Blood dripped from the blade in his hand.