Chapter 5 – The Little Tyrant
On the seventh day of the twelfth lunar month, Kou Laosan came to find Xie Jing and took him along to the master’s household.
Xie Jing was bundled up in a thick cotton coat. He had also washed and cleaned himself carefully — his pale little face calm and wordless as he followed behind Kou Laosan and his son. Though small, his legs were long, and even walking through snow up to his calves wasn’t too difficult.
Kou Laosan instructed them as they walked:
“It took me a lot of effort and money, calling in favors from all sorts of people, to get both of you in this time. Once you’re inside, you’d better be careful with your work — especially these few days. There are honored guests from the provincial government visiting. You two stay put in the apprentice quarters and don’t go wandering around, understand?”
Kou Pei Feng shrank back timidly, nodding again and again like a pecking chick as he listened to his father’s lecture. He held a natural awe toward the master’s household.
“Father, how far is the provincial government from our Qinghe County? Who’s coming?”
“That’s none of your business. Mind your own work — talk less, listen less, ask less!”
Xie Jing quietly retracted his ears and said nothing.
Kou Laosan’s face was grim as he led them all the way to the master’s mansion.
He half-believed Xie Jing’s words from that day — but not entirely.
In these times, a respectable job was too rare to give up easily. He couldn’t bear to hand over his own son’s opportunity, yet he worried about his only child being too fragile. After much hesitation, he gritted his teeth, spent some money to bribe Steward Zhou, and got Xie Jing in too — only under his son’s name. When they entered the Bai estate, Xie Jing went in using Kou Pei Feng’s identity, and the two swapped names.
Kou Pei Feng, born to a humble household, had never once stepped through the gates of Qinghe County’s wealthiest family. The moment he entered, he was utterly stunned. The carved beams and painted rafters were one thing, but even the windows were set with sheets of colored glass. When they reached the second courtyard and waited in the small hall, he was nearly dazzled by the display of Russian-style glass ornaments lining the shelves — pink, purple, multicolored with gilt edges. One glance was enough to make him hastily lower his head.
Kou Laosan was little better. Trembling with caution, he was afraid to move lest he damage something precious.
Xie Jing followed quietly behind, unperturbed.
Back when Lord Bai Jiu favored him, anything fine the old man played with and found pleasing, he’d toss into Xie Jing’s hands. He’d been trained by the old master — his eyes spoiled and discerning. With one glance, he could tell an object’s quality. In his previous life, during the last few years, he had relied on this very skill to earn enough silver for a modest living. Life had been hard, but survivable.
Before long, several others arrived in the hall, and only then did Steward Zhou enter to give instructions.
Xie Jing stood still, his head slightly bowed, the picture of humility.
Steward Zhou, having pocketed their bribe, gave them some leniency. When assigning duties, he didn’t send Xie Jing and the others to toil in the workshops for three bitter years. Having heard that the two boys could read a little, he placed them in the apprentice quarters — where one could study under a teacher. Normally, new servants had to endure years of hard labor before they could even dream of becoming apprentices or errand boys.
The group lined up again, went to collect their new clothes, and were then sent to a large public bathhouse. Beside it, a massive chimney spewed clouds of hot white steam.
“Everyone, wash yourselves thoroughly! If you’ve got lice, your heads are getting shaved!”
Xie Jing swiftly grabbed his clothes and slipped into a secluded corner to wash and change.
Someone stood guard at the door to inspect everyone one by one. By the time Xie Jing came out, some poor souls had already been dragged off for head shaving. Xie Jing, having been carefully cared for by Grandma Kou, though a little thin, had trimmed nails and well-kept hair — smooth and soft. As he stood in line waiting for inspection, the fire’s heat had half-dried his hair. The inspector’s fingers brushed through the silky strands, then looked up to see a child with short, glossy hair like black satin.
Surprised, the man couldn’t help but take another look. The boy’s hair and delicate face made him look like a fallen young noble.
After a brief pause, the man waved him through — without shaving his head.
By the time they reached the front hall, only two or three people still had hair; the rest were bald-headed, shivering in the cold courtyard wind.
Steward Zhou came out to put on another show of authority — but barely got a few words in before a short teenage boy burst in through the archway, a whip in his hand. He snapped it mid-air, scattering a tuft of dry grass. A servant hurried after him, whispering, “Young master, please calm down—”
The boy turned and kicked him.
“Don’t talk nonsense with me! I’ve been bowing to him every day, knocking my head on the floor, and what does he do? Just sits behind a curtain and grunts! Doesn’t even look at me! Well, I’m done today — I’m not going!”
The servant pleaded, “But young master, that’s Master Bai Jiu—”
“Even if he’s my ancestor, I’m not serving him! Whoever wants to go can go!”
“But… if the master asks, what do we tell him?”
“Tell him the truth! Worst case, I get a beating — not like it hasn’t happened before! Tch!”
The commotion drew everyone’s eyes. Steward Zhou cleared his throat twice, then lowered his head again.
Xie Jing glanced over — that face looked familiar. In a flash, he remembered.
It was Bai Mingyu, the youngest son of the chief manager of Qinghe County — and Lord Bai Jiu’s favorite grand-nephew.
Bai Mingyu had a terrible temper but wasn’t malicious. He was simple-minded — straightforward as they come — but his temper was like a firecracker: one spark, and boom. In the previous life, he followed Lord Bai Jiu for years, fiercely loyal, never allowing anyone to speak ill of him.
Xie Jing and he were about the same age and had interacted frequently back then. Yet Bai Mingyu had always looked down on him — and only swallowed his complaints because of Bai Rongjiu’s authority. The young master practically worshiped Lord Bai Jiu, treating him like a deity, and could not stomach the idea of his revered elder taking in a “commoner” like Xie Jing.
Xie Jing had only known the grown Bai Mingyu — tall and imposing as a grown man. Now, seeing this thirteen- or fourteen-year-old version, he realized the boy was much smaller — only reaching his forehead.
So, Bai Mingyu had been lying when he bragged about always being tall.
Bai Mingyu, spoiled at home by both his father and elder brother, now felt wronged for having to kowtow daily. He knocked so hard his forehead had swollen!
His attendant kept trying to console him until the boy grew impatient. Too short to kick properly, he grabbed the servant by the collar and dragged him toward Steward Zhou.
“I don’t want this servant anymore! Get me a new one — today!”
Steward Zhou, terrified of this little tyrant but equally afraid of offending the master, rubbed his hands nervously.
“Young master, that wouldn’t be right… That servant was personally chosen by the master, and he hasn’t done anything wrong…”
Bai Mingyu didn’t care. Tossing his attendant aside, he began looking over the line of new servants himself.
He inspected several — all bald, all ugly — until he finally spotted one with hair. He was about to choose him when he noticed the boy crouching down nearby, hiding something in his arms that rustled softly. The closer he got, the more the boy tried to hide it.
“What’s that? Show me!” Bai Mingyu demanded.
The black-haired boy made a muffled sound but didn’t get up.
Curious as ever, Bai Mingyu strode forward and yanked him to his feet. Out from his arms tumbled an oil-paper bundle — a package of glutinous rice cakes topped with little plum blossom designs. They looked quite appetizing.
“Hmph,” Bai Mingyu snorted. “I thought it was something special — just sugar rice cakes.”
Xie Jing calmly replied, “Not ordinary sugar cakes — they’re made with glutinous rice and osmanthus syrup, boiled in melted snow water for hours. Much better than plain sugar cakes.”
Bai Mingyu, known for his sweet tooth, perked up immediately.
“You can make them?”
Xie Jing nodded. “Yes.”
Grinning with delight, Bai Mingyu pointed at him and shouted to Steward Zhou, “This one! I want this one!”
Steward Zhou froze, not yet reacting before the little tyrant had already abandoned his old servant, grabbed Xie Jing by the arm, and dragged him away.
The corners of Xie Jing’s lips lifted slightly — but he quickly schooled his expression.
He wanted to find Lord Bai Jiu as soon as possible. Following Bai Mingyu was undoubtedly the fastest route.
Author’s Note:
When will Xie Jing meet Lord Bai Jiu?
Xie Jing (fist clenched): “Stick close to Bai Mingyu, and it’ll be a year and a half sooner!”
Little Tyrant Bai Mingyu: “Piece of cake! Just a few kowtows away!”
