Making pork floss wasn’t difficult—there were no inscrutable techniques, just a somewhat tedious process. But Ganlin Courtyard had plenty of hands, so Shen Qian didn’t need to do it all by himself.

They trimmed the tenderloin of sinew and membrane, then sliced it into chunks along the grain.

Into a pot of cold water it went, along with generous pieces of ginger, segments of green onion, and a splash of cooking wine.

A heavy stone pressed the lid down as they brought it to a roaring boil.

Once the meat was so tender that a spatula could smash it to bits, they turned the heat low, fished out the ginger and scallion, and used the spatula to mash all the meat into fine shreds.

When the broth reduced almost to nothing, they seasoned with soy sauce, sugar, and salt, then stirred continuously with multiple chopsticks until the meat became fluffy strands.

After half an hour of vigorous stirring, the shredded meat was completely dry.

A sprinkle of sesame seeds later, it went into jars—good for days.

Shen Qian had two little maids keep an eye on the pot, and they were absolutely delighted, chattering away without a hint of fatigue.

Ever since Madam had passed away, and Liu Yiniang took over the inner kitchen, the little courtyard kitchen had gone unused. Now that it hummed back to life, everyone fondly remembered the good old days when Madam was alive, and emotions ran high.

Seeing that the dinner wouldn’t come together instantly, someone egged Shen Qian on: “Young Master only eats eggs—how nourishing is that? Back when Madam was here, he always had bird’s nest. Or we could stew some chicken with ginseng—after all, we did snatch a good number of chickens!”

Even Ye Gui, perched on the bed, carrot in hand, watched Shen Qian with eager interest, having heard about his battlefield prowess from Xiao Wan.

Shen Qian: “……”

Fine, fine. It wasn’t that he, Shen Qian, just couldn’t stay idle and insisted on overtime. It was that everyone in Ganlin Courtyard had been cooped up for years. Now they finally had a chance to shine, and none of them could sit still. Even Zhan Er was practically glowing with excitement. Shen Qian could only promise to lead another “raid” before dinner.

Ye Gui, still lounging on the bed, waved his carrot and encouraged them: “And fetch me some good brushes and ink.”

Shen Qian: “……” You really aren’t shy about asking, are you?

Ye Gui glanced at him and Zhan Er, smiling softly. “Don’t be afraid. Ask for whatever you want. If anything happens, I’ve got your back. I won’t let you be wronged.”

Shen Qian had actually been planning—if things got too big, once he returned to his own body, he’d have to hide Zhan Er and the others in the dog holes to avoid Liu Yiniang’s retribution. In a family of marquises, punishment wouldn’t mean death or sale, but they might well end up toiling as laborers on an estate or assigned to some useless errand boy.

Hearing Ye Gui’s words, and recalling how fierce he’d been toward Shen Chun, Shen Qian found himself inexplicably comforted, wanting to believe him.

This wasn’t like him at all. He rubbed his nose. “I hope you see this through.”

Ye Gui lifted an eyebrow. “You doubt me? This is nothing—I’ll make it happen. Just wait and see.”

He’s confident, huh? Shen Qian studied Ye Gui for a moment.

It didn’t take long for word to spread through the entire mansion about the eldest young master tossing the third young master into the lake—and the kitchen raid.

Shen Chun couldn’t even get ginger soup—and dared not send anyone to Ganlin Courtyard for supplies, because he truly feared that his big brother might throw him into the lake next!

With both parents away, he had no one to back him up.

When the steward in charge of the inner kitchen saw Shen Qian and Zhan’er’s triumphant procession, she opened the storeroom without a word.

She didn’t ask for permissions—she just let them grab whatever they needed.

After everyone in Ganlin Courtyard returned laden with supplies and departed in high spirits, one maid fretted to the steward:

“Zhan’er and the others took so much—how will we explain this to Liu Yiniang when she returns? Why did you just open the storeroom?”

The steward rolled her eyes.

“You look so anxious now—where were you when they were actually grabbing everything? If I hadn’t opened it, do you think Zhan’er and the others would have stopped? They’d have doused me with boiling water next!”

Those weren’t her own belongings in that storeroom—she wasn’t risking her life for them.

Besides, she had her own reasoning:

“If they only loot here, Liu Yiniang will be furious. If they go elsewhere and rob more places, all she’ll end up angry at is the eldest young master, not at us.”

She watched Shen Qian and the others’ departing backs.

After the lake incident, Ganlin Courtyard felt like it had gone mad. People say when someone’s backed into a corner, they can do anything. Now that the eldest young master had narrowly escaped death, who knew what the rest of this estate would come to!

That night, the courtyard felt like New Year’s. Although they’d fought several “battles” and were tired, excitement kept many awake.

They stewed bird’s nest, prepared ginseng chicken soup, and even unearthed a box of cordyceps from the storeroom. Unfortunately, they hadn’t found duck earlier—only fish. Shen Qian planned, “Once the lockdown lifts, we’ll buy a duck from outside, stew it with the cordyceps, and properly restore the young master’s health.”

He looked at the eldest young master’s wrists—thin as twigs—and felt his heart ache. After all, it was his body.

Ye Gui was enjoying bird’s nest, and after half a bowl, shook his head. He pointed at Shen Qian, indicating the rest was for him.

Remembering that Shen Qian had fallen into the water too and might need nourishment, Xiao Wan quickly passed him the remaining bird’s nest.

Shen Qian froze. He… didn’t want other people’s leftovers. But in ancient times, this was common: servants ate their masters’ leftovers, and parents sometimes gave children their own scraps if they liked the taste. A gift of leftovers was even considered a favor. And now Ye Gui looked at him so benignly…

Shen Qian glanced at Ye Gui’s lips… Oh, right, it was his own body. He might as well eat his own leftovers—nothing to fuss about.

He took a small sip. “Thank you, Young Master.” The bird’s nest had been cooked with rock sugar and white fungus, and it tasted quite good.

Ye Gui, suddenly uncomfortable, turned his head away. He’d given leftover food before, but this time… seeing Shen Qian so carefully tap into the bird’s nest evoked an odd feeling. He hurriedly shifted his thoughts back to Shen Qian’s words.

Actually, he didn’t like cordyceps—looking at it made him queasy. There were plenty of other tonics. No need to force it. Yet, seeing Zhan Er’s tender concern for his wrist made his heart inexplicably soft. And… he might not stay in this body for much longer. Who knew, he might be gone before the lockdown lifted. So he didn’t spoil the mood—he said, “Why bother buying outside? Just raid the kitchen again.”

Xiao Wan eagerly agreed.

Shen Qian: “……” You’re all hooked now, huh?

He stammered, “Once the lockdown ends, the earl and Liu Yiniang will be back. It won’t be so easy to raid the kitchen.”

Next time, they’d face Liu Yiniang herself—or even Fuchang Bo. Shen Qian might be reckless, but only within his abilities. Right now, he had Xiao Die’s body. Battling lowly monsters was one thing—going head-to-head with Liu Yiniang was another. He didn’t want to bite off more than he could chew.

He refused to do anything without a solid plan. In a past mission world, he’d lost something precious because of that. Unless… he got back into the eldest young master’s body by then, then maybe he’d fight.

He cast Ye Gui another look. But then—no cordyceps duck for him!

Thinking of that, his heart felt a little tight. Ye Gui had been his comrade in arms. He didn’t know where Ye Gui would go after leaving the body—reincarnation, or just a drifting spirit? Even though it was his own body, and it made sense for it to return to its rightful owner, he still felt a pang of guilt. Softening, he awkwardly asked, “Young Master, what else would you like these days? I’ll see about raiding… I mean, getting it for you.”

Xiao Wan waved his hand frantically: “Take me with you!”

Ye Gui laughed, but didn’t say what he wanted. Instead, he pulled a wax-sealed letter from under his pillow—stamped with a little wave crest—and handed it to Shen Qian: “You’re the only one here with sense. Keep an eye outside these next few days. Once the lockdown lifts, deliver this to Commander Hua’s mansion on East Street in Yongkang Ward, East of the city.”

He paused: “By then… I may not be conscious, and I might not remember today. But you don’t worry about that. Just make sure this letter gets delivered, and everyone here will be safe.”

Xiao Wan looked puzzled. “Your Ward? Isn’t this our courtyard? And where did that wave wax seal come from?”

Ye Gui: “Carved it on a radish while you were raiding the storeroom.”

Xiao Wan: “?”

Shen Qian took a deep breath and accepted the letter.

Xiao Wan didn’t understand, but Shen Qian guessed: the letter was likely written under Ye Gui’s previous identity. The little wave crest must relate to who he once was. From Ye Gui’s words, he might not inhabit this body until the lockdown ended—he could vanish before then.

If Ye Gui wasn’t around anymore, the affairs of the courtyard would no longer concern him, yet he still arranged this letter to keep them safe.

He… was pretty decent. Shen Qian touched his nose.

I guess occupying this body wasn’t really his choice, either.

He wondered who Commander Hua of Yongkang Ward was—friend, relative, or… lover? What was in that letter, and how much clout did it carry to guarantee the safety of everyone in the courtyard?

Despite Zhan Er and Xiao Wan’s giddy thrill in roaming the courtyard with him, Shen Qian sensed that when they confronted Shen Chun earlier—yelling in unison—they had already recklessly risked their lives. Now, they were living on the adrenaline of one last hurrah.

Everyone was bracing themselves for Liu Yiniang’s return and the reckoning to follow. Even Shen Qian himself, once he got back in his own body, wasn’t confident he could protect them all—after all, he’d never met Liu Yiniang or Fuchang Bo face-to-face. He’d thought if worst came to worst, they could flee through the dog holes and lie low until he was strong enough to bring them back.

But Ye Gui said he’d protect them.

Clutching the letter, Shen Qian rubbed the little wave seal. “Young Master, you really confident about this?”

Ye Gui: “Of course. I don’t do anything I can’t guarantee. I can’t just… ” He frowned, tried to recall Shen Chun’s name, and mangled it—“teach my brother a lesson and leave your people hanging.” He couldn’t do something so irresponsible.

He despised those petty palace intrigues—why bother? He’d solve the problem decisively, root and branch, leaving no chance for a come-back.

Then he said to Zhan Er and Xiao Wan: “If by then I’ve forgotten today, you must remind me—run the courtyard yourselves.”

After all, the real eldest young master was timid. Zhan Er and the others weren’t exactly brave leaders. Only Xiao Die could really hold things together.

As for what he’d do later… he had plans of his own.

Shen Qian gave him a genuine smile.

In all his worlds, Shen Qian had always fought solo. This was the first time someone had his back, bolstering his courage—though it was a stranger with no known name or origin, it felt wonderful, warming his heart.

Xiao Die’s face was round; not conventionally handsome, but when he smiled, it was heartwarming. Ye Gui couldn’t help but ruffle his hair—and was startled by his own boldness. He stared at his hand in shock, then cleared his throat: “You’re called Xiao Die, right…? You all can go rest now. I… I’m going to sleep.”

He hoped that when he woke, this bizarre adventure would be over, and he’d return to his rightful place.

Ye Gui glanced at Shen Qian once more, admiration—and an unrecognized hint of reluctance—flickering in his eyes. “Farewell.”