Chapter 9: Before the Clouds—A Marvelous Choice of Lotus Attendants (Part One)

Looking for a new maid? Now that’s interesting—has he finally realized he’s short of hands? Shen Yu couldn’t help but feel a bit of schadenfreude as he smiled at the steward and said, “When your young master first arrived, I remember how desolate he seemed—a noble son of a great house, yet accompanied by just two maids. Didn’t he himself say back then that having Qianyun and Danxin was sufficient?”

Shen Yu’s tone was teasing, as though he delighted in watching the spectacle of someone eating their own words. “Honestly, your master... if he knew it would come to this, why insist on so little in the first place?”

The steward, knowing well that Young Lord Shen and his master were as close as brothers, took no offense. He replied honestly, “You misunderstand, Young Lord. The master is approaching his coming of age, and his health is much improved. A letter arrived from Madam Dowager just a few days ago, summoning him back to Fangzhou to inherit his title...”

He paused before continuing, “Originally, I was to return to Fangzhou ahead of the master to make arrangements, but as luck would have it, the head maid in Madam Dowager’s quarters fell ill and passed away. The master, ever filial, worried that the younger servants might not serve Madam Dowager well enough. So he ordered me to bring Miss Qianyun along to attend to her.”

At this point, the steward’s expression grew troubled. “You know how the master dislikes formality—he only brought four attendants with him to Jingzhou, after all. Now, with me and Miss Qianyun leaving first, only two will remain at his side. I worry...”

He hadn’t finished before Shen Yu understood and waved him off. “You just need a maid, is that it? Leave it to me. What sort of person does your master prefer?”

The steward’s face lit up at this, and he quickly offered, “The master values peace and quiet—ideally, someone like Miss Qianyun, who is reserved and does not speak much.”

“That’s easily done,” Shen Yu nodded.

The steward thought for a moment and added, “The master’s stay in Jingzhou is a secret, not even known to His Majesty. So I’d prefer someone trustworthy, and if there’s a suitable candidate within the Chasing Rainbow Court, that would be best. After all, bringing in someone from outside risks drawing unwanted attention.”

“It’s just a maid, yet it’s harder than the emperor choosing a consort!” Though he grumbled, Shen Yu agreed good-naturedly, “I’ll have someone sent over in the next couple of days.”

The steward thanked him profusely and added humbly, “Jingzhou is not like Fangzhou, and I’m not much use here alone. I’m sorry to trouble you.”

“You’re too polite, Steward Yun. Your master’s business is my business,” Shen Yu replied as he strolled toward the study. “I’ll go see him—you may go.”

The steward bowed and withdrew.

*****

After the steward’s request, Shen Yu’s earlier annoyance toward Han Chu had largely dissipated. Turning over the matter of the new maid in his mind, he made his way leisurely to the study in the eastern courtyard, where he found his friend absorbed in a cabinet full of medical texts.

Clad in white, with an air as pure as jade, he seemed untouched by the world, as if a banished immortal. Though born to a family of wealth and status that others coveted, he exuded a celestial grace, aloof and otherworldly.

The only flaw marring this immortal’s visage was a pallor that hinted at long-standing illness.

Whenever Shen Yu recalled how his friend had become ill, a pang of guilt inevitably struck his heart. If the young lord of the Shen family had ever owed anyone in his life, it was the friend before him—Yun Ci.

Shen Yu and Yun Ci had met in their youth, at the residence of the famed physician Qu. One was the physician’s last disciple, the other a patient under his care. They lived and studied together for five years, forming a bond as close as brothers.

Yet intertwined with that brotherhood was a thread of guilt that Shen Yu could never untangle.

A dozen years ago, Shen Yu’s father, the Marquis of Wenchang, had once helped Physician Qu, and so he sent his frail son to study under the doctor. Upon arrival, Shen Yu discovered another sickly boy of similar age—Yun Ci—already under Qu’s care.

They quickly grew close, and Shen Yu learned Yun Ci’s story: his mother had been poisoned while pregnant, leaving him with lingering illness from birth. By the time Shen Yu arrived, Yun Ci had already spent three years in treatment; the prenatal poison was gone, but his health remained fragile.

One day, Shen Yu sneaked off to play in the back hills and was bitten by a venomous snake. Yun Ci, risking his own life, sucked out the poison and saved him. While Shen Yu’s life was spared, the ordeal reawakened Yun Ci’s latent illness, nearly costing him his life.

Shen Yu would never forget that day—the frail boy, pale and drenched in cold sweat, lying on his sickbed yet comforting him, “Zi Feng, don’t feel bad. I’ve danced at death’s door more than once. If I can trade my life for yours, I have no regrets.”

To trade your life for another, to have no regrets—what hardship must a boy of twelve or thirteen have endured to speak such words?

Fortunately, their master’s timely intervention saved Yun Ci. But from then on, Yun Ci’s legs were left weak and stiff, unable to stand or walk for long.

It was a pain that Shen Yu could never let go.

Lost in these memories, Shen Yu let out a barely audible sigh. Quickly collecting himself, he put on his usual smile. “Wanzhi.”

Addressing Yun Ci by his courtesy name, he strode into the study. “What are you reading, so intently?”

“It’s the challenge you set for me—finding ancient remedies for throat ailments,” Yun Ci replied, looking up with a faint smile.

In that instant, the study seemed transformed, filled with ethereal radiance, as though earth had become heaven.

“You really have become a doctor from long illness—your skills are nearly as good as mine,” Shen Yu said, plucking the medical text from Yun Ci’s hands and adopting a more serious tone. “Never mind the prescriptions for now. Why haven’t you told me you’re returning to Fangzhou to inherit your title?”

Yun Ci kept his gentle smile. “My mother’s letter only just arrived. I hadn’t had a chance to tell you.”

“Hadn’t had a chance?” Shen Yu snorted, feigning anger. “I’ve been here every day, working with you on these medical cases, and you never once mentioned it. If your steward hadn’t come to me today, were you planning to leave without a word?”

“Of course not,” Yun Ci replied with a soft laugh. “What did Yun Zhong want with you?”

“He’s worried about you. He’s taking Qianyun back to Fangzhou ahead of you, and he’s afraid you’ll be short-handed. He’s asked me to find you a new maid.”

Shen Yu shook his head, laughing. “She must be quiet and reliable, preferably from the West Courtyard—Steward Yun does not set the bar low!”

“A maid?” Yun Ci frowned slightly, the gesture lending an air of authority to his otherwise ethereal demeanor. “That’s Yun Zhong acting on his own. I don’t need another maid.”

“Who says you don’t?” Before Yun Ci could reply, a bright, lively voice floated into the study, followed by the entrance of a girl in a pale yellow dress carrying two cups of tea. “Even if the master doesn’t want one, I certainly do!”

Shen Yu’s smile turned roguishly charming as he greeted her, “Miss Danxin.”

She was Yun Ci’s other personal maid, Danxin. About sixteen or seventeen, with delicate features and porcelain skin, she was the very picture of youthful beauty.

Shen Yu, a connoisseur of feminine grace, had always believed that pale yellow was a difficult color for a woman to wear—too dark, and it looked drab; too fair, and it gave a sickly cast.

He had only ever seen two women pull it off: Han Chu, and the Danxin before him.

Of course, Han Chu looked good in anything; as for Danxin, pale yellow suited her perfectly.

One had to admit, Yun Ci was fortunate when it came to the women around him—both Qianyun and Danxin were remarkable, each with her own charm.

Alas, Yun Ci himself was as ascetic and detached as a hermit sage, never taking advantage of the two beauties at his side.

Shen Yu always found this a great pity.

Danxin, meanwhile, offered tea to the two men and then turned to Shen Yu with a playful grin. “Don’t listen to the master, Young Lord. Spare a thought for me! Once Qianyun leaves, all the work of tending to the master will fall to me alone—it’s more than I can handle!”

Both Shen Yu and Yun Ci understood her meaning. It wasn’t the work she dreaded, but the fear she couldn’t care for her master well enough on her own.

Shen Yu was gladdened by the thoughtful loyalty of those around his friend and laughed in agreement, “Miss Danxin is right. Your master is a difficult one. It’s hard enough serving him alone. He doesn’t know how to appreciate beauty, but I certainly feel for you!”

Though Shen Yu was known for his playful ways, he always observed propriety. When it came to Yun Ci’s maids, his teasing was harmless and never crossed the line.

Danxin, long used to his banter, giggled and curtsied to him again. “Thank you for your concern, Young Lord.”

Hearing this, Yun Ci could only shake his head in resignation. “It seems I’ve spoiled you all too much—now you’re both making decisions for your master.”

Danxin covered her face and laughed, “But isn’t the master a living immortal sent from heaven to save us all?”

“You do know how to flatter!” Shen Yu laughed heartily, turning to Yun Ci. “You’re blessed indeed: Qianyun is calm and steady, Danxin lively and clever—one still, one spirited, and together the perfect balance.”

Yun Ci only glanced at Shen Yu, saying nothing as he returned to his medical texts.

Danxin, however, asked with a smile, “In two days, Qianyun will be leaving for Fangzhou with Steward Yun. Have you found anyone suitable to take her place, Young Lord?”