8

Ye Jiao turned at the sound of the voice and, recognizing the man’s face from her memories, called out, “Second Brother.”

But that was all she said. The little ginseng spirit didn’t know who Ye Erlang was, and Ye Jiao herself wasn’t one for polite small talk. Naturally, she had nothing else to add.

Ye Erlang, however, didn’t seem to notice the lack of conversation. His eyes stayed on Ye Jiao. He glanced at her finely tailored clothing, then at the ox cart parked nearby, a look of discomfort flickering across his face.

Especially when he lowered his gaze and saw the familiar, worn clothes he was still wearing—he suddenly felt even more self-conscious.

He had known that Ye Jiao would be returning to visit today, but he hadn’t expected the Qi family to send a cart for her.

The Ye family hadn’t prepared so much as a meal for the occasion.

As the silence grew awkward, Liu mama stepped forward and stood by Ye Jiao’s side.

Liu mama had been sent along by Madam Liu, knowing full well how unreliable the Ye family could be. Afraid her good-natured daughter-in-law might suffer in silence, she had ordered Liu mama to accompany Ye Jiao and look out for her.

Anything Qi Yun cared about, Madam Liu would naturally take more seriously as well.

At that moment, Liu mama gave a small cough and said sternly, “Our young madam has had a long and tiring journey. She hasn’t even had a sip of water.”

Ye Jiao blinked. Hadn’t they just had red bean pastries and tea not long ago?

Ye Erlang flushed in embarrassment and quickly stepped forward to push the door open, calling inside, “Wife! Jiao Niang’s back—come out, quick!”

“So what if she’s back? Why all the fuss…” came a grumbling voice from inside. Ye Erlang’s wife emerged from the house, clearly annoyed.

But the moment she caught sight of the scene outside—the ox cart, the attendants—her words died on her lips. Her eyes shifted from the cart to Ye Jiao’s elegant attire, disbelief spreading across her face.

Ye Erlang had no time to worry about his wife’s reaction—he quickly ushered Ye Jiao into the house.

As Ye Jiao passed by her sister-in-law, she suddenly remembered that this woman had once grabbed her hand.

Instinctively, she tucked her hand behind her back and quietly sidestepped her, prompting both Xiaosu and Liu mama to glance sharply at Ye Erlang’s wife.

Ye Erlang noticed his wife still frozen in place and hurriedly urged, “Go make some food. Don’t we still have eggs? Make an egg custard. And go buy some wine—quick!”

But from inside the room, Ye Jiao heard him and replied, “No need. I won’t be staying for a meal. I’ll be leaving soon.”

She did love to eat, true—but appetite had its time and place.

Ye Jiao didn’t feel safe leaving Qi Yun alone at home. They’d just had a bit of a falling out that morning, and even though she’d given him a lock of her hair to reassure him, she still couldn’t fully trust that he’d be okay.

Her husband was her responsibility. With the weather this cold, Ye Jiao had no intention of lingering at the Ye house any longer than necessary.

Liu mama quickly stepped in to smooth things over, helping her explain, “She’s just worried about troubling her natal family. Our young madam truly has a kind and thoughtful heart.”

Ye Jiao: …Huh?

The expressions on Ye Erlang and his wife’s faces grew complicated. Ye Erlang gave a slow, awkward nod, then hurried into the room, clearly wanting a moment alone to speak with his sister. As for his wife—she still hadn’t snapped out of her shock.

It had been her idea to send Ye Jiao to the Qi family in the first place. But she’d never meant for Ye Jiao to live a good life. If she had, she wouldn’t have married her off to a man everyone believed was on death’s door.

In her mind, Qi Yun wouldn’t survive long, and the Qi family would be holding a funeral right after the wedding.

As a so-called “lucky bride” brought in to drive away bad fortune, Ye Jiao would end up kicked out with nothing.

Ye Erlang’s wife had only ever thought about how to distance herself from Ye Jiao—to avoid having her come back and freeload off the family.

But now, Ye Jiao looked wealthy and well cared for. She was clearly living a much better life than anyone expected.

…Who would’ve thought Ye Jiao could end up doing so well?

These days, the divide between the wealthy and the poor was like heaven and earth. And from the looks of it, Ye Jiao had found her footing in the Qi family. Ye Erlang’s wife no longer had the nerve to act bossy or rude around her.

To put it bluntly—offending Ye Jiao now meant offending the entire Qi family. And if that happened, her own household might as well forget about living in peace.

She kept telling herself over and over again that she had taken the money, so whatever happened after had nothing to do with her. Ye Jiao’s life was no longer her concern.

And yet, something in her chest twisted painfully. Whether it was jealousy or resentment, it made her heart ache.

Inside the house, the atmosphere had gone unusually quiet.

The little ginseng spirit had no emotional attachment to Ye Erlang, so Ye Jiao barely registered anything he was saying—his words passed in one ear and out the other.

Ye Erlang quickly ran out of things to say. After racking his brain for a long time, he finally managed to squeeze out, “Little Sister… are you doing well?”

Ye Jiao nodded. “I am.”

Having food and drink, of course life was good.

Ye Erlang forced a smile and muttered, “As long as you’re doing well, that’s all that matters.”

Just then, a boy of about six came running into the house. The moment he saw Ye Jiao, his face scrunched up in a scowl. He turned and ran back out the door, shouting loudly, “Mom! I want the egg custard! Don’t let anyone else have it!”

Everyone knew exactly who that “anyone else” was—except Ye Jiao, who didn’t react at all.

The boy was Ye Bao, the only son of Ye Erlang and his wife. He was spoiled rotten and mischievous to boot.

But Ye Jiao didn’t even glance at him. She didn’t bother to recall any memories related to him either.

The truth was, the entire Ye Erlang family had treated the original Ye Jiao poorly. She had no desire to torture herself by revisiting those moments.

This time was no different—Ye Bao’s words went in one ear and out the other. Her mind was already on the herb garden she needed to visit later. She looked calm on the surface, but her thoughts were far away.

Liu mama, however, narrowed her eyes in warning. She was broad-shouldered and solidly built—when she wore a stern face, she was downright intimidating.

Outside, Ye Erlang’s wife quickly covered Ye Bao’s mouth. Ye Erlang himself looked flustered, unsure whether to scold the boy or apologize to Ye Jiao.

After all, Ye Jiao was no longer just his little sister—she was now the young madam of the Qi family. Offending her meant offending the Qi family, and that was not something they could afford.

Ye Jiao, however, was already getting impatient.

The little ginseng spirit hadn’t wanted to come in the first place, and now that everything seemed to be wrapping up, Ye Jiao turned to Liu mama and said, “Liu Ma, leave the gift and let’s go. I’m worried about my husband.”

Without hesitation, Liu mama set the box she was holding onto the table. It wasn’t very large, but inside were rice dumplings wrapped in bright red paper and some candies.

Most people brought eggs or poultry when returning home, but the Qi family had sent sweets for Ye Jiao instead—easier to carry, and far more refined.

Ye Erlang opened his mouth to speak. “Jiao Niang, Bao’er didn’t mean anything by that. Don’t take it to heart…”

“Alright, I forgive him,” Ye Jiao replied lightly, cutting off whatever else he had to say.

And she meant it—she truly didn’t care.

She didn’t recognize anyone in the Ye family—not truly. In her memory, they hadn’t even let Ye Jiao eat her fill of sweet potatoes. To the little ginseng spirit, the only person she wanted to see right now was Qi Yun. He was the one who made sure she was well-fed, who remembered to bring her red bean pastries.

In a way, Ye Jiao was a very easily satisfied little spirit.

Ye Erlang had nothing more to say. He followed her to the door and watched helplessly as Ye Jiao climbed into the ox cart and left with her attendants.

From the moment she arrived to the moment she left, she hadn’t even finished a cup of tea.

It wasn’t until the ox cart disappeared down the road that Ye Erlang finally closed the courtyard gate, shutting out the rising murmur of gossip outside.

But when he turned back into the house, he saw that the box on the table had already been opened. The red wrapping paper inside was torn to shreds, and Ye Bao was happily stuffing candy into his mouth.

“Mom said Auntie was sold off and wouldn’t be coming back anymore,” Ye Bao mumbled, not realizing his father had entered the room.

His mouth was full of sugar, making his words muffled.

He had never been afraid of Ye Jiao. Back when she lived at home, he would always snatch food from her bowl. And since his mother constantly badmouthed Ye Jiao behind her back, Ye Bao—being just a child—naturally followed her lead.

But times had changed. Ye Jiao was now firmly established as the second young madam of the Qi family. Households like theirs—small and humble—couldn’t afford to offend someone like her. Words like that should never be spoken aloud.

This time, it was already too late for Ye Erlang’s wife to cover their son’s mouth. Ye Erlang’s eyes widened, and he quickly stepped forward, grabbing Ye Bao by the collar and glaring at him. “Who told you that?!”

Ye Bao was stunned into silence, while his mother flinched in fear.

Truth be told, she’d thought about it more than once: with a face like Ye Jiao’s, wouldn’t it have been better to sell her to a wealthy merchant in the city as a concubine, rather than waste a dowry marrying her off to a mere farmer?

Those were the kinds of things that couldn’t be said aloud, of course. But in private, Ye Erlang’s wife had often felt quite pleased with herself—finally getting rid of that useless mouth to feed, and earning a hefty sum of silver in the process.

Had Ye Bao overheard her whispering those things to herself and remembered?

But the boy didn’t even look at her. Still sucking on candy, he shrank back and mumbled, “I heard it outside…”

Before he could finish, Ye Erlang, shaking with rage, grabbed a broom and raised it to strike.

Ye Bao burst into tears instantly. His hand slipped, tearing the candy wrapper—rice dumpling candies spilled all over the floor.

Ye Erlang didn’t feel the slightest bit of pity.

He was Ye Jiao’s blood brother. Even if he wasn’t as capable as his elder brother, Ye Erlang had still watched her grow up with his own eyes.

He knew his wife had a strong temper. But because they had a son—Ye Bao—he had spoiled the boy and, in turn, indulged his wife as well. He’d been aware, at least a little, that Ye Jiao had suffered. But each time, he simply urged her to endure it for the sake of peace. Eventually, Ye Jiao stopped speaking up—and Ye Erlang chose to pretend nothing had ever happened.

That was human nature. To preserve a sense of peace, people were masters at glossing over the truth.

When Ye Jiao’s marriage to Qi Yun was arranged, Ye Erlang had comforted himself, telling himself that he was sending his sister off to a better life. The Qi family was one of the wealthiest in the area, and the marriage had been formal and proper. Surely she wouldn’t suffer there.

And earlier, when Ye Jiao returned in all her finery, he had even felt reassured—like he’d made the right choice.

But now, with Ye Bao’s careless words, the thin veil of self-deception had been ripped away.

They hadn’t married Ye Jiao off.

They had sold her.

No matter how much he tried to rationalize it, that was the truth—and he could no longer deny it.

Ye Erlang’s eyes were red with anger, and the sight of him like that actually made his wife flinch. But she was a domineering woman by nature—fiercely protective and notoriously petty. The moment she saw him raise his hand to their son, she rushed over, scooped up the crying Ye Bao, and wailed, “If you want to hit him, you’ll have to kill me first! He’s my precious baby, my very life! Just try laying a finger on him!”

It wasn’t the first time Ye Erlang had heard those words. Every time he tried to discipline their son, she would block him with the same line.

Ye Erlang wasn’t good with words. He had so much to say, but all of it got stuck in his throat.

After a long struggle, all he could manage was: “He’s out of control. If you don’t start disciplining him now, he’ll grow up all wrong. Big Brother always said boys shouldn’t be spoiled, and you—”

“Big Brother this, Big Brother that! All you ever talk about is your big brother! He doesn’t even care about us anymore!” she shot back, clutching Ye Bao and backing away, relentless in her scolding.

A wave of frustration crashed over Ye Erlang. He thought of his eldest brother, whose fate was still unknown, and then of his younger sister, who was just one step away from severing ties with him completely.

Defeated, he let the broom fall from his hand, shut his eyes, and slumped into a chair, looking utterly exhausted and worn down.

Ye Bao’s loud, shrieking sobs still echoed in the room, piercing and grating on the ears.

Ye Erlang’s wife, meanwhile, sneakily reached out and began gathering the scattered dumpling candies from the floor. When she saw that he wasn’t moving, she snorted, scooped Ye Bao into her arms, and stormed into the back room.

Ye Jiao, already long gone, knew nothing of the chaos erupting behind her. Sitting in the ox cart, she kept her gaze fixed on the view outside.

When the walls of the Qi family’s medicinal garden came into sight, Ye Jiao blinked, then turned to Xiaosu beside her and said, “I’m a little hungry.”

Xiaosu perked up and immediately reached into the small basket she was carrying.

But it was empty. The red bean pastries they brought on the way had already been eaten and shared.

Liu mama lifted the curtain to peek outside. Seeing the herb garden not far ahead, she smiled and said, “We’re quite close to the medicinal garden. Why don’t we stop there for a short rest, young madam?”

“Alright,” Ye Jiao nodded without hesitation. That had been her plan all along.

Once off the cart, Liu mama asked, “Is there anything you’d like to eat, young madam? I’ll go ask someone to prepare it.”

Ye Jiao blinked, then smiled. “Egg custard.”

Egg custard wasn’t anything fancy, so Liu mama stepped down first and hurried off toward the back of the compound, where there was a small kitchen—perfect for making something simple and quick.

Ye Jiao and Xiaosu headed for the front hall to rest. Xiaosu, still young, bounced as she walked, glancing up at Ye Jiao with bright eyes. “Young madam, can I have a bite of the egg custard too?”

“Of course,” Ye Jiao replied casually, her eyes scanning the rows of herbs drying on racks nearby. She had never intended to come just for the food, so she agreed without the slightest hesitation.

Xiaosu beamed. She thought to herself: Second young master looks terrifying most of the time, but second young madam has such a sweet temperament. Are they opposites who balance each other out?

But before long, Ye Jiao stood up from her seat in the hall and walked out into the garden. Xiaosu quickly bounced up and followed her.

Ye Jiao had come here to get familiar with the medicinal herbs of this life—comparing them to those from her past—and to see if there were any that might help Qi Yun.

The garden was filled with wooden racks, each holding large bamboo trays where herbs were laid out to dry in the sun.

Ye Jiao looked around the garden and quickly got a sense of things.

What reassured her was that everything here matched what she’d known in her past life. But what unsettled her was that many of the herbs that would be useful to Qi Yun were nowhere to be found.

With Qi Yun’s current condition, strong tonics were out of the question. But finding something that could gently nourish his weakened foundation without overdoing it—that was a delicate balance to strike.

His body was too fragile: too much would overwhelm him, too little would do nothing. Ye Jiao made several rounds through the garden but still didn’t find anything that seemed just right.

She was feeling a little disappointed when suddenly, a faint fragrance drifted into her nose.

It was subtle and clean, and especially amidst the heavy scent of drying herbs, nearly undetectable unless one was paying close attention.

But Ye Jiao’s eyes lit up. She scanned the area, and finally, at the base of the wall, spotted a small, delicate vine with tiny red blossoms.

It swayed gently in the wind—quietly striking.

Ye Jiao immediately stepped closer, crouched down, and leaned in to sniff the flower. The scent was incredibly familiar.

But something didn’t add up—she remembered this plant shouldn’t grow in soil…

Just then, a voice sounded behind her. “Second Young Madam, lunch is ready.”

Ye Jiao turned and saw a middle-aged man she didn’t recognize. She stood up and asked, “Who are you?”

“I manage this garden. You can just call me Dong Da, Second Young Madam.” He smiled warmly and gave her a respectful bow. He looked like a good-natured man.

The herb garden was part of the same operation as the Qi family’s medicine shop, and all the accounts were handed to Qi Yun to oversee.

Now that Qi Yun’s wife had come, and with Liu mama—someone Madam Liu clearly valued—accompanying her, Dong Da understood this second young madam held some weight in the household. Naturally, he came to greet her in person and wouldn’t dare be careless.

Ye Jiao smiled back, but instead of returning to the front hall, she pointed to the little red-blossomed plant and asked, “When did this start growing here?”

Dong Da came closer and studied it. “Looks like shiya grass—not very common, but not particularly useful either. Probably one of the apprentice herb boys dug it up and planted it here for the color.”

Ye Jiao immediately followed up, “Does it bloom in the dead of winter? And usually grow in cracks between rocks?”

Dong Da nodded repeatedly. “Yes, exactly! Grows right out of stone crevices. That’s why it’s called shiya—‘stone sprout.’ Second Young Madam really knows her herbs!”

Ye Jiao didn’t react much to the flattery. Her eyes remained fixed on the fragile plant.

She had seen plenty of this herb in her past life. In winter, when all else withered and snow blanketed the mountains, these tiny red blossoms would bloom alone in the desolate cold—like flecks of fire lit across the snow.

But come spring, they’d wither and vanish, indistinguishable from any other wildflower.

However, if one grew near a thousand-year-old ginseng and was nourished by its essence, it would bear fruit the following spring—pearl-like white berries known for their incredible medicinal value.

To an ordinary person, it was a powerful tonic. To someone at death’s door, it was a lifeline.

The little fox spirit used to call it snow jade fruit. She even said her scholar lover had been saved thanks to it.

Ye Jiao looked down at the delicate flower, a smile playing on her lips.

What a coincidence, she thought. Aren’t I a thousand-year-old ginseng myself?

=^_^=

Author has something to say: Ye Jiao: Suddenly feeling very satisfied with my identity.