Chapter 212: Harmony and Joy
That afternoon, the manor’s employees gathered together; with the exception of Old Man Xu, everyone was present.
Auntie Pang wielded her spatula, whipping up a bounty of delicious dishes.
And, under Jian Xingxia’s video guidance, she braved making fried glutinous rice balls once again.
“Ah, so you have to boil or steam them a bit first!”
Auntie Pang didn’t quite grasp the volatile power of frozen food, and her last attempt had left her with two blisters on her hand.
However, a couple of blisters couldn’t dampen a cook’s resolve. She had been eager to try again today, and since Jian Xingxia couldn’t dissuade her, she had no choice but to dig up a relatively reliable tutorial online.
Auntie Pang was full of praise for Jian Xingxia’s “black mirror,” eyeing the phone up and down. “This gadget is incredibly handy. Back when I was learning to cook, my mother worried I lacked discipline, so she made me chop radishes for a whole year before she’d even let me near the stove.”
“And even then, my mother said it was only because she had a soft heart. She said if I’d apprenticed anywhere else, I wouldn’t have even touched a kitchen knife without tending the fire for three years first!”
Xu Shaoyin quietly pinched a sweet potato fry and dipped it into some ketchup.
The flavor of fried sweet potatoes wasn’t particularly mind-blowing to her—she had tasted her share of delicacies at the Feiyue Pavilion, after all.
But this ketchup stuff was a whole different story.
Even though her family had been wealthy during her childhood, in all her nineteen years of life, Xu Shaoyin had never tasted anything so magical.
It was tart, yet carried a hint of sweetness; it was sweet, yet bursting with a distinct fruitiness.
The sweet and sour flavor paired with the crispy fries was nothing short of extraordinary.
Swallowing the fry, Xu Shaoyin chimed in, “It’s the same at Feiyue Pavilion. The head chefs all keep their signature dishes to themselves, while the apprentices can only carry platters, wash vegetables, and do the dishes.”
“Only after a full three years will a head chef offer a pointer or two. Even then, they usually hold back a crucial trick or two, refusing to teach it to their apprentices until the day they finally step down from the stove.”
“Some won’t even pass it on after stepping down. They’ll only bring out their unique, closely-guarded secrets right before they enter the grave.”
Xu Shaoyin could deeply relate to this. Her own field was dance, an art where the master introduces you to the craft, but the practice depends on the individual. Because of that, her mentor hadn’t hidden much from her.
Even so, there were still a few advanced techniques her master had kept close to her chest.
Everyone chatted happily outside the kitchen, munching on the food Auntie Pang had prepared.
Jian Xingxia felt exceptionally happy and comfortable.
Though she was now virtually devoid of any living relatives, having these ancient employees around made her feel as though she had gained a large circle of close friends and family.
……
It wasn’t until late afternoon, when everyone had eaten and drunk their fill, that they began to disperse.
Ah Feng and Tao Ya had to leave the moment their six hours were up, and Lin Sanniang headed back along with Tao Ya.
Once they left, Auntie Pang departed as well, carrying her “staff meal.”
A moment later, Xu Shaoyin looked down at her teacup and noticed something strange about the reflection in the water. At first, she didn’t understand it, but a sudden intuition struck her, and she realized the reflection was urging her to return.
Jian Xingxia stole a glance… but saw absolutely nothing.
It was just a perfectly ordinary cup of tea.
Yet Xu Shaoyin hurriedly stood up. “Miss Manor Owner, I must head back.”
Jian Xingxia handed over the “wages bundle” that Lin Sanniang had put together for her. “Take these things with you.”
As a skilled professional, Xu Shaoyin’s hourly wage was the highest among the temporary workers, sitting at twenty to thirty yuan per hour.
Upon learning that coming to the manor meant working for wages to exchange for goods, Xu Shaoyin had insisted on performing for everyone.
Since her injuries made it inconvenient to dance, she opted to sing a gentle song, which drew a round of thunderous applause from the whole room.
The most enthusiastic of all was the Scholar.
The Scholar clapped wildly, pouring on the praise unstintingly. “Miss Shaoyin’s voice is truly heavenly! A single melody, and the lingering resonance echoes in the rafters for three days without fading…”
Shaoyin’s expression had originally been grave. She hadn’t known who the Scholar was or what his background might be.
He didn’t look young and lively like Ah Feng, who was still just a teenager. Yet, unlike the other two men, he hadn’t gone out to the backyard to do manual labor after filling his stomach.
Instead, this man had been wandering about, muttering to himself and doing absolutely nothing productive.
Shaoyin had worried the Scholar was one of those worthless, profligate dandies who loitered around wine houses, and she couldn’t help but feel anxious.
Jian Xingxia patted her hand. “Don’t worry. Though the guy looks like a bit of a rogue, he actually possesses some real talent.”
Xu Shaoyin’s anxiety didn’t ease. She had seen plenty of playboys in her time; all that talk of an “unrestrained exterior hiding inner brilliance” was usually just a trick to fool people.
But the next second, the Scholar spoke up again. “However, in my humble opinion, Miss Shaoyin’s singing style still leaves room for improvement. Your voice is gentle, Miss Shaoyin, but slightly lacking in power. At times like this, you ought to practice projecting from your dantian. The dantian is the ocean of human sound; compared to the throat, it can be described as…”
The Scholar spoke with eloquent fervor. Becoming swept up in his enthusiasm, he climbed right onto a high stool to demonstrate for Xu Shaoyin.
“Though I excel more at composing melodies and writing lyrics, I do have a few minor insights regarding vocal techniques…”
With that, he began to sing, entirely lost in his own world.
Xu Shaoyin was left utterly dumbfounded.
Jian Xingxia shrugged. “See? That’s just how the guy is.”
If it was something he had no interest in, he would put on a display of being a frail, spineless scholar with no strength to even hoist a chicken, silently begging people to leave him alone.
But if it was something that caught his fancy—especially anything unconventional—he would become a non-stop chatterbox, bursting with passion.
Xu Shaoyin silently swallowed the words on the tip of her tongue, her tightly knitted brows softening slightly.
Looking at it this way, the Scholar truly was… well, a worthless dandy through and through.
However, Xu Shaoyin could also tell that when the Scholar had been staring intently at her just now, the excitement and fervor on his face hadn’t been directed at her as a person, but rather at her music.
After finishing his song, the Scholar didn’t care in the slightest how anyone reacted. He jumped straight down from his high perch.
“No, no, that’s not right. There’s a dissonance in this piece; it needs to be revised.”
Having said his piece, he dashed off to find the ink and brush Jian Xingxia had prepared for him, and began scoring on a sheet of paper using the traditional Gong, Shang, Jue, Zhi, Yu pentatonic scale.
In the end, the Scholar left behind a musical score that Jian Xingxia couldn’t make heads or tails of, grabbed his belongings when his time was up, and vanished.
Jian Xingxia: “…”
Though she couldn’t understand it, judging by the profoundly shaken look on Xu Shaoyin’s face when she picked it up, the Scholar did seem to have some genuine expertise in musical composition.
With the Scholar gone, Xu Shaoyin departed as well.
Da Hei and Shang Yue headed back into the mountains. Their working hours were longer, and they wouldn’t leave until nighttime.
Jian Xingxia returned to the old house and began drafting a plan.
She had formulated some brand-new ideas for the official business strategy of Xingxia Manor.
