Chapter 102: It Really Is You

Wenyao was taken aback for a moment—was this an invitation to cook? Seeing the faint furrow in Wenyao’s brow, the old maid hastily added, “Don’t worry, miss, you won’t be doing it for nothing.” Wenyao didn’t mind whether she was paid or not; last time, the Xie family had given her two hundred taels, which was quite generous. Well, it was only a meal, after all. If the old lady refused to eat what she made, so be it.

The carriage arrived at the Xie residence, not stopping at the main entrance but entering directly through the side gate. Only then did the old maid help Wenyao out, whispering a few instructions to the young maid at her side. The young maid dashed off, and the old maid led Wenyao along at a leisurely pace.

It was the same path as last time, but at the fork, they turned toward the back courtyard. When Wenyao saw Qiu Rongrong again, she noticed that her attire was much simpler than before. Gone were the elaborate layers; now, Qiu Rongrong exuded an air of sharpness and efficiency.

She sat casually on a soft couch beside a brazier, keeping the room pleasantly warm. “Madam, Miss Wen is here,” the old maid announced, stepping forward to pay her respects. Wenyao looked at Qiu Rongrong, smiled faintly, and nodded—neither servile nor arrogant. After all, she wasn’t a servant of the Xie family.

Qiu Rongrong glanced at her and motioned to the seat beside her couch. “Miss Wen, please sit.”

Wenyao thanked her and sat down, asking directly, “Madam, you sent for me?”

To Qiu Rongrong, Wenyao was just a ten-year-old girl, barely older than her own son. But she'd had her people inquire: the renowned young chef from the countryside was indeed a ten-year-old girl. The Wen family—ten years old—she’d suspected as much, and her guess had proven true.

Qiu Rongrong studied Wenyao for a while before smiling. “I didn’t expect it to really be you.”

“What?” Wenyao tilted her head in confusion.

Qiu Rongrong chuckled at Wenyao’s bewildered expression, then lazily explained, “The old lady has lost her appetite lately, won’t eat a thing. I’ve tried every cook in the household, but none of their dishes appeal to her. The physician can’t find any cause, either.”

Wenyao sensed a hint of sarcasm in Qiu Rongrong’s smile as she spoke—perhaps it was just her imagination. Thinking back to the incident with the carriage, Wenyao suddenly caught the scent of intrigue, her eyebrows arching.

Qiu Rongrong noticed Wenyao’s reaction but said nothing further, continuing, “A few days ago, a servant went home for a visit and attended a banquet. He returned saying the chef’s skill rivaled that of the finest restaurants, so I sent someone to investigate. To my surprise, it turned out to be you.”

Wenyao now understood: they wanted her to cook a meal and see if the old lady would eat.

“So, Madam wishes me to prepare a meal for the old lady?” Wenyao asked, pointing to herself.

Qiu Rongrong nodded. “Exactly. Don’t worry, you won’t do it for nothing. Whether the old lady eats or not, you’ll receive five taels of silver. If you solve her loss of appetite, there’s an extra reward. Little girl, are you up to it?”

The promise of five taels made Wenyao’s eyes light up. It was just a meal—what could be difficult about that? If the old lady happened to enjoy it, even better; she’d earn a bonus as well.

“I’ll give it a try. By the way, does the old lady have any dietary restrictions or dislikes?” Wenyao asked.

Qiu Rongrong glanced at the old maid who had brought Wenyao in. The old maid stepped forward, saying, “The old lady is advanced in years and prefers light flavors, has a fondness for sweets, but her teeth aren’t good, so the food must be soft and tender.”

Wenyao nodded. So that was it.

“May I borrow the kitchen, then?” Wenyao didn’t claim certainty, but she was reasonably confident.

Qiu Rongrong looked at her as if she had something else to say.

Wenyao pondered for a moment, then boldly asked, “Madam, is there something else you wish to tell me?”

She guessed as much; from the beginning, her impression of Lady Xie had been favorable. Though there was a minor unpleasantness last time, today’s conversation had shown that Lady Xie was approachable and courteous, never condescending despite Wenyao’s perceptiveness.

Qiu Rongrong gave a rueful smile. “I thought you were young and naïve, but it seems I can’t fool you. Since there’s no one else here, I’ll be honest with you.

This may well be the old lady’s deliberate way of making things difficult for me. No matter how you cook, whether she eats or not, I’ll pay you as promised. But I don’t want you to think it’s due to poor cooking, so I’m telling you in advance. Of course, it’s possible she truly feels unwell.”

But that possibility was slim; such deliberate trouble-making was nothing new.

Having married into the Xie family as a second wife, Qiu Rongrong was seen as marrying above her station, constantly suppressed. In previous years, things were better, but now that the Xie family’s business was faltering, as mistress of the house she had to subsidize them with her own money.

And yet, while they spent her money, they still looked down on her—what logic was that? Though her heart simmered with resentment, for her son’s sake she had to keep up appearances.

This time, the old lady had spent half a month making trouble, all because Qiu Rongrong had been asked to support the clan for the New Year. She agreed, but only offered half the amount the old lady demanded. The old lady, though she took the money, felt slighted and has been causing a fuss ever since.

Wenyao was different from the regular cooks. Those cooks were paid for their work; if they performed well, they stayed. If not, they were dismissed. But Wenyao had saved Yi’er’s life. Qiu Rongrong didn’t want to wrong her, so she’d explained everything to prepare her mentally.

Though Wenyao didn’t grasp all the intricacies, Qiu Rongrong’s explanation gave her a good idea—life in these ancient households meant endless scheming.

Seeing Qiu Rongrong’s furrowed brow, Wenyao offered reassurance. “Madam, you needn’t worry. Leave it to me.” She winked playfully.

Qiu Rongrong was amused by her spirited demeanor, feeling her own frustrations eased. “About last time, I truly apologize. It wasn’t my intention to dismiss you with money, nor was it my wish. Please don’t hold it against me.”

To be sent off with money was fine—they’d welcome it as often as possible. But Wenyao couldn’t say that aloud. Instead, she grinned, giving what she felt was the smile of a ten-year-old girl, and replied,

“Oh, it’s nothing! If anything, I should thank you, Madam. Thanks to the money you gave us, my family has bought land, built a house, and even purchased an ox. We owe you our gratitude.”