The backyard kitchen is small and cramped. Through a small window, one can vaguely see the burning red flames and thick black fog inside.
The cook was half-crouching in front of the stove, adding firewood to the fire while turning to the young man behind her with a smile on her face.
"You are so lucky that Miss Song took a fancy to you and chose you to be an attendant in the Song Mansion."
There was no one around, so the cook looked around carefully and slowly moved to Wei Ziyuan's side.
She whispered, "The Song Mansion is not like ours. I heard that the floor tiles in the Song Mansion are made of gold and jade. If you were to follow Miss Song, your life would be a thousand times better than it is now."
"Look at the silver she sent yesterday. It was just to let me look after the cat servant in the backyard. It would cost a few dollars. But she actually took out that bag of silver. It's enough for us farmers to eat for three to five years. It shows that Miss Song is kind-hearted."
Wei Ziyuan listened absentmindedly. Only when the old woman mentioned Song Lingzhi, he blinked two or three times. Ripples finally appeared in his calm eyes.
The smoke from the old kitchen was choking, and Wei Ziyuan sat in the corner with his knees hugged, holding dead branches and leaves in his hands. The branches were dry and rough, and they made his palms hurt. The wound from moving the tree was still cracked, and blood was oozing out.
Wei Ziyuan was completely unaware and just stared in a daze at the surging firewood.
Firelight suddenly appeared, and layers of smoke filled the air. In a trance, Wei Ziyuan seemed to see the beautiful figure on the mountain again.
The girl has a nimble figure, and her gorilla-felt red cloak reflects the snow-covered sky, making her look as white as cream and gorgeous.
Wei Ziyuan was born with a disease and cannot speak.
The old woman was used to talking to herself. She tilted the spoon in her hand and said, "Auntie will give you an egg custard today, just as a practice for you."
As they were talking, they suddenly saw a little maid coming up, saying that the Song family's carriage had arrived, and urged Wei Ziyuan to go forward.
The cook was startled and wiped her hands in front of her body two or three times: "Why are you so anxious? You won't even let me eat."
The little maid covered her mouth and laughed: "Aunt, this is a strange question. You ask me, who should I ask?" After saying that, she looked at Wei Ziyuan again, "Why don't you go quickly? Do you really want the master to wait for you?"
The woodshed where Wei Ziyuan usually lived was just a shabby board that was barely big enough for a person to sleep in. After cleaning up, he was left with only a tattered bag.
The egg custard was naturally too late to be eaten. The cook sighed helplessly, wiped her hands and walked back. She accidentally glanced at a pile of chopped firewood in the yard. The cook was stunned for a moment, then shook her head and smiled: "This child..."
.
The sky has cleared after the snow.
The iron horses clanged under the eaves. Baizhi, carrying her toiletries, quietly lifted the turquoise green gorilla felt curtain.
A large brocade mattress was spread on the kang near the window. Qiuyan was leaning on a green satin backrest decorated with hundreds of butterflies, doing needlework with her silver needles facing the sunlight outside the window.
Bai Zhi tiptoed to Qiu Yan's side and poked her head in: "Miss, are you still awake?"
The pink brocade grey squirrel cloak was taken off, and in just a moment, beads of sweat appeared on Bai Zhi's forehead. She curled her lips helplessly.
"What's wrong with the young lady now? She has never been so afraid of the cold in previous years. The brazier in our warm room alone is as valuable as the whole courtyard of others."
She glanced at Qiuyan and said in surprise: "That's strange, don't you feel feverish?"