Chapter 19

Zhao Yanping looked at the delicate A-Jiao. She lowered her head, her watery eyes shyly gazing at her embroidered shoes.

The two stood there in a daze for a moment until Cui Niang poked her head out from the kitchen and excitedly asked Zhao Yanping, “Master, you’re back! Were there any cases at the yamen today?”

Cui Niang was lively and loved excitement. Spending her days working in the Zhao household, her favorite pastime was pestering Master to tell her about the cases. To her, listening to him recount them was like hearing a storyteller at a teahouse. Though he always remained expressionless and never used exaggerated tones to build suspense, real cases were far more fascinating than fabricated stories.

Cui Niang was only twelve, but she looked even younger. Zhao Yanping had always treated her like a child. Whenever she asked to hear about cases, he would carefully select trivial, non-frightening ones to tell her. But now, with A-Jiao in the household, he suddenly felt uncomfortable about it.

“There were no cases today,” Zhao Yanping said to Cui Niang.

She looked disappointed. Seeing A-Jiao pick up the washbasin to serve Master, Cui Niang returned to her cooking.

“I’ll do it myself,” Zhao Yanping reached to take the basin from her, as he was used to handling these things on his own.

Just then, Old Madam Zhao came out.

With her back to the main hall, A-Jiao secretly shot a glance at Zhao Yanping. If he refused to let her serve him, Old Madam Zhao would surely scold her.

Zhao Yanping understood Old Madam Zhao even better than A-Jiao did. With no other choice, he relented.

A-Jiao went to the kitchen to fetch water.

While Old Madam Zhao wasn’t as sharp as her grandson when it came to other matters, no one could match her when it came to caring for him.

She squinted slightly as she scrutinized him from head to toe, then suddenly frowned and pointed at his boots. “Where did you go investigating today? Look at all the mud on your boots.”

Zhao Yanping looked down and saw that his boots were indeed speckled with mud—traces from his visit to Dapan Village.

Hearing Old Madam Zhao’s voice, Cui Niang immediately reappeared. “Master, you were on a case? Then why did you lie to me and say there was none?”

Old Madam Zhao glared at her. “Go finish cooking! Master needs to eat after he washes up.”

Cui Niang pouted and retreated again.

The kitchen was filled with the fragrant aroma of stuffed pancakes, making A-Jiao’s stomach growl. She carefully carried out a half-filled basin of water.

Old Madam Zhao pointed toward the backyard. “Your Master always washes up back there. Go help him wipe his back.”

Zhao Yanping immediately objected, “Washing my face is enough. No need to wipe my back today.”

Old Madam Zhao raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re the cleanest person I know. Even in winter, after running around all day, you always wipe down with cold water when you return. And now, exhausted as you are, you suddenly don’t need it? Aren’t you worried about stinking up the bed and suffocating A-Jiao in her sleep?”

Her rapid-fire questioning left Zhao Yanping speechless.

A-Jiao was even more tactful, silently carrying the basin past the grandmother and grandson, heading to the backyard.

Old Madam Zhao stepped closer to her grandson, tugged at his sleeve, and took a sniff, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “Go wipe yourself down and change into fresh underclothes later.”

In Jiangnan, even in September, the sun still blazed during the day. With how much Zhao Yanping had been running around, it would’ve been strange if he hadn’t worked up a sweat.

Under Old Madam Zhao’s sharp gaze, Zhao Yanping had no choice but to head to the backyard.

A-Jiao placed the washbasin on a stool against the eastern wall, assuming that was where Master usually cleaned himself.

Seeing Zhao Yanping approach, she dipped the towel in the water, then stood demurely at the side, waiting to serve him like a proper concubine.

Zhao Yanping spoke in a low voice, “I’ll move the stool inside.”

Once the door was closed, Old Madam Zhao would only hear sounds but see nothing.

A-Jiao lowered her gaze, her cheeks flushing as she softly said, “Master never used to wash indoors. If you suddenly change your habits, won’t Old Madam Zhao get suspicious? Besides, if you wash inside, the floor will be soaked, and stepping on it will be uncomfortable.”

Zhao Yanping hesitated.

A-Jiao lowered her head further and murmured, “I understand what Master means. But I’ve already decided—I belong to you. If you want me as your concubine, then I’ll be your concubine. If you’re still focused on finding your sister, then I’ll be your servant first, and when you’re reunited, I’ll… In any case, unless Master doesn’t want me, unless you despise me, A-Jiao’s life and death are yours to command.”

Zhao Yanping’s throat tightened. So… this was how she thought?

A-Jiao dared not lift her head, afraid to see his reaction—afraid that he still intended to find her a proper husband and would be displeased with her insistence on staying.

“Master, will you remove your robe yourself, or shall I help?” A-Jiao moved behind him, whispering, “If you stall any longer, Old Madam Zhao will come.”

Zhao Yanping’s mind was in turmoil, but he still loosened his outer robe and underclothes, stripping them off in one motion and tossing them onto a smooth rock nearby. His broad, muscular back and lean waist were exposed. As a constable, his face and hands had been darkened by sun and wind, but his back remained naturally pale.

A-Jiao’s skin was snow-white. His was a rich jade white.

From the moment he started undoing his robes, A-Jiao’s heart pounded like a frightened deer. And now, as his powerful back appeared before her, so close that she could almost feel his warmth, the scent of sweat and masculinity engulfed her, as if she were being pulled into his embrace. Her face flushed, her legs weakened—she felt as if she had been drugged.

Zhao Yanping glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Since things had come to this, he could only proceed. He bent down, bracing his hands on the washbasin, and began splashing water over his arms.

A-Jiao remained frozen.

Zhao Yanping turned his head slightly. “Hurry up, I’m hungry.”

A-Jiao snapped back to reality and quickly started wiping his back. This task required strength, so she gripped the towel in her right hand while her trembling left hand rested on his shoulder for support.

Like a delicate flower petal falling onto a rugged, gnarled branch—the branch suddenly tensed, growing even harder. Startled, A-Jiao pulled her hand back, at a loss for what to do.

Zhao Yanping roughly splashed water over his face, neck, and arms in one swift motion. Then, without looking at her, he grabbed the towel from her hand and barked, “So slow and weak. I’ll do it myself. Go fetch me a fresh set of underclothes.”

His sudden outburst made A-Jiao think he was truly displeased with her clumsiness. Her face paled, and fearing his anger, she quickly turned to retrieve the garments.

At the dining table, Old Madam Zhao gave her a disdainful look.

A-Jiao moved quickly, soon returning with a set of white underclothes.

Zhao Yanping still had to wipe his legs. With his back to her, he said sternly, “Go inside and shut the back door.”

His tone was commanding, leaving A-Jiao no choice but to obey.

Old Madam Zhao listened intently, suddenly wondering—was her grandson simply bashful about being seen in daylight, or was he still resisting the presence of a woman?

A-Jiao sat timidly at Old Madam Zhao’s right.

Cui Niang brought in dinner—a large basin of stuffed pancakes, a pot of loofah soup, and three sets of bowls and chopsticks.

“Old Madam, the long ones are meat-filled, the round ones are scallion-filled,” she explained before leaving.

Curious, A-Jiao peeked into the basin and saw that most of the pancakes were long, with only eight round ones. But this was enough food to last until tomorrow night—not just for one meal.

Once Cui Niang was gone, Old Madam Zhao placed two meat pancakes into her grandson’s large bowl, then gave both herself and A-Jiao a scallion-filled one each.

The scallion pancakes smelled delicious. Swallowing her craving, A-Jiao flattered, “Old Madam, Cui Niang is so young. You must have taught her to cook—how impressive!”

This flattery greatly pleased Old Madam Zhao, even though she had nothing to do with Cui Niang’s culinary skills.

“Master loves stuffed pancakes. You should learn from Cui Niang when you have time,” Old Madam Zhao said.

A-Jiao nodded obediently.

At that moment, the north gate was pushed open, and Zhao Yanping entered, dressed in a simple inner robe. The atmosphere in the main hall instantly became more imposing.

A-Jiao guiltily lowered her head.

Zhao Yanping glanced at her before sitting down across from her with a bold and unreserved manner. Feeling thirsty, he first placed the two stuffed pancakes in his bowl back into the serving dish, then scooped himself a bowl of loofah soup, filling it nine-tenths full. Holding the bowl in one hand, he gulped it down in large swallows.

A-Jiao had never seen anyone drink soup like that before. She looked up in surprise and saw that half of the officer’s face was obscured by the large bowl, leaving only his sharply angled sword-like brows and thick eyelashes visible. Perhaps it was her fear of him, but she even felt that his lashes were coarser and sturdier than most men’s, entirely devoid of any hint of softness.

As he drank in great mouthfuls, the Adam’s apple in his throat moved rhythmically, like a small mechanical contraption in motion.

For some inexplicable reason, A-Jiao’s mind drifted to her cousin next door, Zhu Shiyu.

Officer Zhao was twenty-four years old, and her cousin was twenty, yet the difference between their appearances was like night and day. Officer Zhao was tall and powerfully built, while her cousin was frail and short. Officer Zhao carried an air of authority and righteousness, whereas her cousin had a gloomy and scheming nature. Watching the way Officer Zhao’s Adam’s apple moved as he drank, she found it full of masculine charm, whereas her cousin’s small Adam’s apple only filled her with disgust.

Zhao Yanping finished drinking.

A-Jiao quickly averted her gaze before he put the bowl down.

“What case had you working so hard that you’re this thirsty?” It wasn’t just Cui Niang who was eager to hear the story—Old Madam Zhao was just as curious.

Zhao Yanping was famished and didn’t feel like talking, so he simply took a stuffed pancake from the dish and ate it in a few bites.

Old Madam Zhao was startled—just how hungry must he be to eat so fast?

One after another, Zhao Yanping devoured five pancakes, each in five or six bites. After finishing the fifth, he finally felt satiated. He then scooped himself half a bowl of soup and drank it more slowly. It was only then that he noticed both Old Madam Zhao and A-Jiao had yet to start eating.

“Eat! What are you staring at me for?” Zhao Yanping frowned and urged them.

A-Jiao immediately lowered her head and began eating.

As Old Madam Zhao ate, she continued questioning her grandson, “What case were you working on today to make you this hungry, as if you hadn’t eaten in eight hundred years?”

A-Jiao perked up her ears, her almond-shaped eyes sneaking glances at the man across from her.

Zhao Yanping noticed and, as he took a bite of his pancake, briefly explained the case in Dapan Village.

His explanation was too concise for Old Madam Zhao to understand. “How did you figure out that Old Man Zhang was hiding his grandson?”

Zhao Yanping had to elaborate on his reasoning. First, despite several constables gathering at Blacksmith Zheng’s doorstep, Zheng’s wife still had the presence of mind to tidy up the firewood by the stove, which wasn’t the behavior of someone afraid of the authorities finding evidence. Second, there hadn’t been a single case of child trafficking in Dapan Village for decades, making it unlikely that Sanlang had fallen into the hands of traffickers. Lastly, the statements of Dalang and Erlang gave Zhao Yanping a full picture of the Zhang family’s situation—especially Old Man Zhang’s suspicious actions.

With this detailed breakdown, Old Madam Zhao finally understood. Looking at her grandson with pride, she said, “You’ve always been meticulous since you were little, born to be an official who solves cases.”

A-Jiao remained silent as she ate, but deep down, admiration for the officer surged within her.

—

After dinner, the sky had darkened. Old Madam Zhao headed to the kitchen to recount the case to Cui Niang, taking the opportunity to boast about her grandson’s brilliance so that Cui Niang could spread the tale among the village women when she went to wash clothes by the river the next day.

A-Jiao lowered the windows in both rooms, prepared Old Madam Zhao’s bedding, and brought the chamber pot into her room. Then she went to the kitchen to fetch warm water and carried a foot-washing basin into the east room.

Zhao Yanping sat at the desk by the window.

A-Jiao walked toward him with the basin.

He glanced at her and, without looking away from his book, said, “You wash first. My feet are dirty.”

A-Jiao reminded him, “There’s no more hot water in the pot.”

Without lifting his head, Zhao Yanping said, “I can use your water. We’re not a wealthy household—no need to be so particular.”

He said it offhandedly, but A-Jiao’s heart felt warm. The officer didn’t mind using water she had washed with.

There were two chairs by the desk. Since she would need to serve the officer soon, A-Jiao placed the basin in front of the chair opposite him and sat down. Lifting her skirt slightly, she revealed a pair of delicate embroidered shoes.

Before removing them, she blushed and stole a glance to the side.

The officer’s face was hidden behind his book; he wasn’t looking.

Reassured, A-Jiao boldly removed her shoes and placed her fair, petite feet into the basin.

Though Zhao Yanping’s face was blocked by the book, preventing A-Jiao from seeing him, he only had to shift his gaze slightly to see the basin on the floor—and the small, tender feet that weren’t even the length of his palm.

A-Jiao wasn’t the kind of beauty who was skin and bones. She wasn’t fat either—her figure was graceful and light in movement. But her cheeks were plump, her beauty carrying a natural, pampered elegance. Her hands were soft, her fingertips rounded and delicate like fresh bamboo shoots. And now, her small feet, soaking in the water, looked smooth and supple, with her round little toes carrying an almost playful charm, like tiny fish.

Zhao Yanping had never imagined that a woman’s feet could be this beautiful.

A-Jiao hadn’t left the house all day, so her feet weren’t truly dirty. A quick rinse was enough—the water looked almost unchanged after she washed.

After drying her feet and slipping into her night shoes, A-Jiao brought the basin before the officer and knelt down, ready to help him remove his boots.

Zhao Yanping firmly planted both feet on the ground, his cold expression hidden behind the book. In a deep voice, he said, “I’ll do it myself. Go brush your hair.”

A-Jiao let out a subtle sigh of relief.

She didn’t mind washing the officer’s feet, but she had once washed her cousin’s socks. In her mind, the officer was as high as the heavens, while her cousin was dirt beneath her feet. She was terrified that the officer’s feet might smell as bad as her cousin’s, ruining the distinction between heaven and earth.

She stepped over to the dressing table, brushing her hair while stealing glances through the mirror. She saw the officer finally put down his case files, roll up his pant legs, and bend down to wash his feet—washing them quite thoroughly, too.

By the time A-Jiao finished brushing her hair, Zhao Yanping had finished washing.

Just as she was about to take the water out, he swiftly carried the basin outside himself.

“Why are you carrying out the water?”

Outside, Old Madam Zhao’s displeased voice rang out.

A-Jiao frowned. At this hour, was Old Madam Zhao still awake? Was she planning to eavesdrop again tonight?

Old Madam Zhao might have been eager to listen, but A-Jiao had no intention of making a sound—it was too embarrassing, as if she were sneaking around under the officer’s nose.

Moments later, Zhao Yanping returned. Seeing that A-Jiao had drawn the bed curtains but was still sitting outside, looking at him with a complicated expression, he closed the door and walked over, lowering his voice. “Something wrong?”

A-Jiao lowered her head, twirling a strand of her long hair around her fingers before hesitantly asking, “Master, do you think Old Madam Zhao will come over again tonight?”

Zhao Yanping had no idea, nor did he care. Sitting down on the bed at a distance from her, he said, “We’ll just go to sleep. Let her be.”

A-Jiao bit her lip, her voice dropping even lower. “But… what if she suspects something?”

Without thinking, Zhao Yanping replied, “Suspects what? It’s not like that’s something that happens every night.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he realized his mistake.

Meanwhile, A-Jiao had already darted into the inner side of the bed, burying her burning face into the pillow.

Her officer truly was his grandmother’s grandson!