The night deepened, and Qin Yuxuan sat by the window of her boudoir, gazing out at the heavy, dark night sky, her heart weighed down as if by a stone.

She was exceptionally beautiful, having perfectly inherited her father’s brows and eyes and her mother’s features, and her long black hair was meticulously cared for, gleaming with luster.

Her personal maidservant, Zhiqiu, gently draped a thin silk outer robe over her shoulders.

“Miss, it’s late, and the night chill is heavy. Take care not to catch a cold.”

Qin Yuxuan shook her head faintly, her fingertip tracing the window lattice unconsciously.

“When will this drought ever end? The price of rice in the city has soared, refugees are everywhere. Today they dared to storm the grain carts—what about tomorrow? Father may have a great estate, but how long can it hold out? Mother says the grain stored in the warehouses is nearly at its end…”

Zhiqiu knew her young mistress was given to deep thought and easily moved by the troubles of the times, so she hastened to console her.

“The Master will surely have a solution! Look at all the great storms he has weathered over the years. He will always…”

Before she could finish, a muffled peal of thunder rolled out without warning from the depths of the dark night outside the window.

Rumble—!

A slender bolt of lightning split the sky.

Qin Yuxuan straightened abruptly, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on the window.

One drop, two drops…

A cold, wet sensation fell upon her fingertip extended outside.

“Rain?”

Zhiqiu, too, was stunned, her voice filled with disbelief.

Then, as if the heavenly river had burst its banks, pea-sized raindrops pelted down with a clatter. First drumming urgently on the roof tiles, they quickly merged into a continuous stream, turning into a torrential downpour. The dry air was instantly saturated with moisture—the long-absent breath of life itself.

“It’s raining! It’s really raining!”

Zhiqiu jumped up, overcome with excitement.

“Wonderful… truly wonderful!”

Qin Yuxuan murmured, a barely perceptible catch in her voice.

This drought fiend’s calamity, which had lasted for months, cracked the earth, wrenched cries of despair from refugees, and shrouded the whole of Qingyang City beneath a cloud of hopelessness, had finally met its end!

* * *

The sweet rain that continued for several days completely reversed the situation.

The land was nourished, the riverways refilled with water. The once gaunt and sallow refugees, for the most part, had returned to their homes or, with the government's relief and resettlement, begun new lives.

Time slipped by, and three months passed quietly.

Qingyang City had emerged from the shadow of the drought fiend’s ravages and regained its vitality. The Qin Residence, having provided disaster relief and succored the people, enjoyed a reputation at its zenith. Inside and out, the estate displayed a scene of flourishing prosperity.

Qin Residence, inner court council hall.

The thirteen-year-old Qin Yuxuan sat upright in the main seat, her still childish little face drawn tight with seriousness, yet her eyes held a composure far beyond her years. Below her stood several stewards of the inner court, each holding their breath and concentrating, not daring the slightest negligence on account of her youth.

“…Why has the cost of renovating the East Courtyard exceeded the budget by thirty percent? Steward Li, the detailed accounts must be on my desk this afternoon.” Qin Yuxuan’s voice was clear and crisp, but carried an unquestionable weight.

“Yes, Third Miss.” The named Steward Li had a faint sweat on his forehead and quickly bowed in acknowledgment.

“Also, why were the summer ice and charcoal allowances for the several concubines in the Western Residence short on weight yesterday? Nanny Wang, I will personally verify the inventory records of the storehouse.”

“This old servant… will investigate at once!” Nanny Wang’s face paled and she hurriedly withdrew.

Qin Yuxuan handled each matter of internal affairs with methodical precision, her reasoning clear, her rewards and punishments meted out fairly. She had held the reins of inner court stewardship for barely over a month, yet by virtue of her extraordinary memory, keen powers of observation, and an impartial and incorruptible manner, she had already brought the somewhat lax inner court into perfect order. The household servants whispered among themselves that this Third Miss’s mind was perhaps even more meticulous than the beads of an abacus.

The council concluded, and the stewards withdrew.

Qin Yuxuan picked up an account book from the side table—the record of her father’s meals. Her fingertip swept across a list of dishes, and her brows gradually knit together.

“Zhiqiu,” she called her personal maid over, “has Father’s appetite been consistently poor of late?”

Zhiqiu quickly answered, “Miss, your observation is correct. The Master has indeed been eating little these past days, and often feels drowsy after the noon meal, saying it’s due to the stifling heat. Madam has also inquired several times, but the Master merely says it’s nothing, and that he’ll be fine after resting a while.”

“Stifling heat?”

Her father Qin Lu had always been robust; he had never shown such fatigue even in the height of previous summers. Moreover, the residence was amply supplied with ice basins, keeping every courtyard cool and pleasant—how could it come to this?

A sliver of doubt stirred in her heart.

She recalled the scene after that timely rain three months ago. The day after, her father had fallen gravely ill, bedridden for a full seven days, his face as pallid as paper. Upon waking, he had only said it was due to excessive exhaustion and refused to elaborate. At that time, she was overwhelmed with disaster relief affairs, utterly swamped, and merely assumed it was the strain from his worry and labor over the drought.

Now the drought had lifted, all matters in the household were gradually falling into a favorable course, and yet Father was displaying such lethargy and aversion to food once more…

Qin Yuxuan rose. “Zhiqiu, accompany me to the small kitchen.”

“Yes, Miss.”

The small kitchen, situated on the eastern side of the inner court, was the place where fine meals were specially prepared for the Master, Madam, and the several young masters and misses.

Before they even drew near, a rich aroma of poultry and meat wafted out, stirring the appetite.

“How fragrant!” Zhiqiu couldn’t help inhaling deeply.

Arriving at the door, Qin Yuxuan lifted the curtain and stepped inside. The stove fire was blazing; the cook, Zhou Li, stood with his back to the entrance, carefully stirring a soup in a clay pot with a long-handled ladle. He was of medium build, wearing a clean gray cotton cook’s robe, his movements steady.

“Chef Zhou,” Qin Yuxuan called out.

Hearing this, Zhou Li turned around, a respectful smile piling onto his face, and bowed.

“Third Miss, good day!”

As he bowed, his left hand unconsciously drew back into his sleeve, a subtle movement that Qin Yuxuan’s sharp eyes instantly caught. She recalled that Zhou Li was missing three fingers on his left hand, said to be the result of frostbite in childhood.

“No need for such formalities.”

Qin Yuxuan’s gaze swept over the bubbling clay pot. “What’s stewing today? The aroma is so enticing.”

“Replying to Third Miss, it’s Eight-Treasure Old Duck Soup. I used a three-year-old duck, paired with eight medicinal ingredients: Codonopsis, Astragalus, Angelica, Goji berries, Chinese yam, lotus seeds, red dates, and Solomon’s seal. It’s been simmering over a gentle flame for a full three double-hours.”

Qin Yuxuan stepped closer, picked up a spare ladle, scooped up a little of the broth, blew on it, and tasted a sip.

Fresh, fragrant, rich, and mellow!

The flavors blended to perfection; not only was there no excessive medicinal taste, but it added layers of depth. Even Qin Yuxuan, who had tasted countless delicacies, couldn’t help nodding in praise.

“Chef Zhou, excellent skill! The heat, the flavor—all superb.”

Zhou Li’s smile deepened with a touch of humility.

“The Third Miss flatters me. It’s my duty to see that the masters and mistresses eat with satisfaction.”

“A reward.”

Qin Yuxuan signaled to Zhiqiu, who promptly took out a small ingot of silver and handed it to Zhou Li.

“Thank you for the Third Miss’s reward!”

“Is this soup about ready? Have a portion sent to Father’s study for the evening meal.”

“Yes, I’ll prepare a bowl at once.”

Just then, as if suddenly remembering something, Zhiqiu spoke up.

“Miss, Chef Zhou’s deer tendon soup for the Master two days ago was also excellently done. What a pity the Master only tasted one spoonful and had it sent away, saying the flavor was off…”

Hearing this, Qin Yuxuan looked at Zhou Li.

Zhou Li put on a helpless expression and said, “Perhaps it was the stifling heat and the Master’s poor appetite. It was my poor skill that displeased the Master.”

Watching Zhou Li’s demeanor, a flicker of suspicion passed through Qin Yuxuan’s eyes, but it quickly returned to normal. She gave a few casual instructions, then left the small kitchen with Zhiqiu.