Chapter 10 Transformation
Chen Fang and Zhang Lan were laughing when they heard the voice and turned to look at the entrance. Three figures approached against the light, with the girl at the forefront appearing slender in her oversized cotton-padded jacket, yet strangely exuding a delicate charm. The sunlight made her pale skin glow with a translucent radiance, as if her features had sharpened overnight. Her gaze, no longer lifeless as before, now carried an indescribable allure at the corners of her eyes, flowing like spring water—neither dull nor rigid, but eerily lively. She raised her brows slightly, her voice clear and pleasant, tinged with a cool crispness: "Nanny Lan?"
Zhang Lan snapped out of her daze, and even Chen Fang beside her jolted awake, staring at Jiang Ruan with a mix of envy and anger. This down-and-out official’s daughter seemed like a completely different person today. Just a glance from those shallow eyes made them lose their bearings.
"Young Miss has arrived," Zhang Lan said, though she didn’t move an inch from her seat. Instead, she wearily rubbed her leg and continued, "Today, I finally managed to free myself from the chores on the estate and thought to visit you. But you weren’t here, and while searching around, I twisted my foot. So I rested in the room. Please forgive this old servant’s rudeness."
Lianqiao was already seething with anger. On the surface, Zhang Lan’s words were faultless, but they were a blatant affront to Jiang Ruan’s dignity. A mere servant dared to remain seated while her mistress stood—utterly lacking in propriety. She was about to reprimand her when she caught Jiang Ruan’s gaze and suddenly changed her mind, standing quietly beside her like Zisu, silent.
Jiang Ruan smiled faintly. "Nanny, you exaggerate. You’ve worked tirelessly for the estate and deserve proper rest. It weighs on my conscience to have caused you such exhaustion. Why don’t I massage your legs for you? Perhaps you’ll feel better?"
Zhang Lan listened to Jiang Ruan’s words, initially pleased, but her expression shifted as she heard the latter part. By the time Jiang Ruan finished speaking, she immediately stood up. "Young Miss, what are you saying? You are the mistress, and this old servant is but a lowly maid. You mustn’t demean yourself like this—it fills me with dread!"
Jiang Ruan glanced at Zhang Lan, a faint note of pleasant surprise in her voice. "Oh? Nanny can stand after all. Seeing you unharmed puts my mind at ease. Otherwise, if something had happened to you, I truly wouldn’t know what to do."
Zhang Lan seethed inwardly. Jiang Ruan’s earlier words had ostensibly given her face, but if the latter part spread outside, she’d be in deep trouble. There was no principle in the world where a mistress massaged a servant’s legs. Even if the one above had hinted at it, such rumors would only paint her as an overbearing servant shaming the Minister’s household. The best approach was to appear faultless while making life difficult for the other party. Yet after a lifetime of outmaneuvering others, today she had been outplayed by a young girl using the same tactics.
At this thought, Zhang Lan scrutinized Jiang Ruan again. The girl stood quietly with a faint smile, exuding an unfathomable aura. A subtle fear crept into Zhang Lan’s heart. How could a mere twelve-year-old girl be so inscrutable? Was she some kind of demon?Chen Fang, standing to the side, couldn't fathom Zhang Lan's thoughts. She only felt that their usually timid and easily bullied mistress seemed rather imposing today. Though her clothing and accessories couldn't compare to Chen Fang's own, they couldn't conceal her vivid beauty. A surge of jealousy rose in Chen Fang's heart, and without thinking, she spoke up: "Miss must have fully recovered, able to walk about freely now. I suppose you can start embroidering the handkerchiefs tomorrow—they should be finished by the New Year."
When Jiang Ruan was first sent to the estate, Zhang Lan had claimed that everything here paled in comparison to the capital's comforts and that many tasks required manual labor. While Jiang Ruan wasn't made to do farm work like chopping firewood, Zisu and Lianqiao were often forced into servitude, their young hands already calloused. Jiang Ruan herself wasn't much better off—though spared from farm work, she still had to embroider. Every month, twenty embroidered handkerchiefs were required to cover her expenses on the estate. Twenty was no small number, and even with Lianqiao and Zisu helping, it was a struggle to complete them. The intricate patterns and complex stitching strained their eyes, especially during the New Year when the quota increased to thirty.
Jiang Ruan smiled faintly. "Naturally."
Chen Fang had meant to provoke her but was met with this calm acceptance. Gritting her teeth, she pressed on, "Then Miss must prepare for hardship. Be careful not to fail the deadline and cause trouble."
Jiang Ruan arched a brow. "Nanny Lan, is the handkerchief embroidery the pressing matter you came to discuss today?"
Zhang Lan was taken aback, then laughed. "Ah, this old servant's memory fails me. I meant to ask if Miss would like to send a letter to the master and mistress when the estate delivers provisions to the mansion."
A letter? Jiang Ruan's fingers twitched slightly. It had been so long that she had nearly forgotten—during her years on the estate, she had written to Jiang Quan and her elder brother every New Year, pleading for their help to bring her home. Year after year, her letters vanished without reply, until the devastating news arrived: her brother, Jiang Xin Zhi, had died in battle. After his death, her life had lost all hope.
Having died once, she now saw things with far greater clarity. She would no longer place her hopes on the heartless Jiang Quan. Rather than waiting passively, she would take action herself. As for letters—there was no need. Jiang Quan wouldn't read them, and in the hands of Jiang Susu and her mother, they would only become fodder for mockery over tea.
"Father is occupied with official duties. There's no need to write this year." Jiang Ruan gazed at her fingertips. "Nanny Lan, I have no letters to send."
Zhang Lan was stunned. Every year, Jiang Ruan had sent letters back. The servants all knew how futile they were, yet no one willingly gave up hope. But now Jiang Ruan refused—had she truly lost all hope?
Zhang Lan studied Jiang Ruan suspiciously but found nothing amiss. Suppressing her unease, she reasoned that the more despondent Jiang Ruan became, the easier it would be to report to her superiors. For her, this was good news. She smiled. "In that case, this old servant will go prepare the provisions. I take my leave."
After Zhang Lan and Chen Fang had departed, Zisu asked in confusion, "Why didn't you send a letter, Miss? Are you upset with the master?""Time is precious. Why waste it being angry with him?" Jiang Ruan sat down at the table, gazing at the pale face of the young girl reflected in the rusted bronze mirror. "We're going back soon anyway. What's the point of sending letters? If there's anything to say, we can say it face to face."
"Going back?" Lianqiao's eyes lit up. "Miss, have you thought of a way to return?"
Jiang Ruan reached out, slowly tracing the chipped edge of the bronze mirror with her fingers, smiling faintly.
Of course there was a way. But before leaving, there was still a debt to collect.
(End of Chapter)
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