Chapter 8: A Debt

Two hours later, in the west courtyard, Chen Yanfan split the last piece of wood, set his axe on the stack, and wiped his sweat with his sleeve. He had changed out of the torn robe into an even older coarse-cloth jacket, patched in several places but clean.

He bent to carry the chopped wood to the kitchen’s back wall. Before long, he heard someone behind him. Turning, he found Steward Song standing at the courtyard gate. Two thick cotton mattresses and two neatly folded new sets of clothes lay at his feet. The old steward said nothing, only watched him with a complicated expression.

“Steward Song?” Yanfan straightened. “Why are you still awake?”

“I brought you something.” Song pointed at the pile. “Two new mattresses and two sets of clothes. Good, sturdy fabric.”

Yanfan looked at the things, then at Song, frowning slightly. “I didn’t ask for new mattresses, and it isn’t time for the seasonal clothes allowance. How much will they take out of my wages?”

Song was silent for a long moment. Then he looked deeply at him. “Nothing.”

Yanfan’s frown deepened. Nothing? He knew the Yu Estate’s rules better than anyone. Servants had to apply for replacement mattresses; clothes were issued together at the change of seasons. Anything provided as a special exception was deducted from their wages.

If Steward Song said these were free, there could be only one explanation. “Who sent them?”

Song didn’t answer. He walked over and patted Yanfan’s shoulder three times, neither too hard nor too gently. “Young Chen… when you work in a household like this, sometimes you go down a road and there’s no turning back. But remember one thing: whatever happens, don’t make the young miss angry.

“She has a temper, but she isn’t bad at heart. Humor her a little more, and stop haggling over every little thing. Now, make your bed and try on the clothes. If they don’t fit, come to me tomorrow and I’ll exchange them.”

With that he left.

Yanfan stood in the courtyard, looking down at the mattresses and clothes. Slowly, he raised one eyebrow.

He thought back to his walk through the west courtyard that afternoon. He had kept close to the wall; surely nobody had seen him. But Song had run into him at the moon gate, just beyond the corridor leading to the young miss’s courtyard. He had scolded Yanfan about his torn clothes, and Yanfan had stumbled over his explanation. And the young miss appearing in the west courtyard at all was unusual.

He picked up the fresh mattresses, carried them inside, and laid them on the bed. He had secured its leg with a wooden wedge that evening, so it shouldn’t collapse again for now. The thick cotton made the hard boards considerably softer. He pressed a hand against them.

The young miss had sent them. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that.

Was this an extra on top of the reward? An addition to payment for services? No, the spirit stones were the payment, and they had already settled that price. That was a separate transaction.

They hadn’t negotiated a price for the mattresses and clothes. She had added them on her own. What category should he enter them under?

He stood beside the bed considering it, without reaching an answer. He unfolded one of the new garments and held it up against himself. It was exactly his size. The fabric was several grades better than what he wore, the stitches were close, and even the cuffs were bound.

He changed into it and looked down. His mouth twitched despite himself. It really did fit.

At the table, he took out his ledger and opened a fresh page. It recorded every receipt and expense since he had entered the Yu Estate, from his daily wage of thirty copper coins to the two coins he had spent on needle and thread last month. Nothing had been missed; every entry was neat.

In the income column he wrote: “Two new cotton mattresses, two sets of new clothes.” After a pause, he added a smaller note: “Source: Young Miss. Classification: pending.”

Pending. He truly didn’t know where to put them. He had already quoted a price: twenty spirit stones, including the clothes and the bed leg. But that compensated him for the old clothes, not new ones. New clothes were a separate item and ought to be counted separately—except she hadn’t said he would have to pay for them.

Free things made Chen Yanfan uneasy. In his world every account had a source and a destination. A debt had to be repaid, a loan recorded. Taking something for nothing was like leaving a bad debt in the ledger: someday it would have to be settled.

He set down his brush and looked out the window. The moon hung high, and the courtyard was quiet.

Forget it. There was wood to chop tomorrow, and Old Zhang in the kitchen had promised plenty of meat buns. If Yanfan got up late, they would all be gone.