Late spring sunlight streamed through the carved window lattices, casting coin-like specks of light on the blue brick floor of Tinglan Courtyard. Even the parrot cage hanging in the corridor was gilded with a warm golden hue. Inside, a green-feathered parrot pecked at corn from a porcelain dish, its tail feathers iridescent with each lowered head, shimmering in the beams of light. The old butler stood hunched in the corridor, his knuckles slightly white from clenching the account book. The threads of the patch on his cuff trembled softly in the breeze, like restless strings on a harp. He stared at the closed carved wooden door, his Adam's apple rolling three times. His cloudy eyes reflected the faded official script characters "Tinglan Courtyard" on the door. Finally, he lifted his age-freckled hand and knocked with a copper ring. The ring, smooth as a mirror from years of caressing, reflected his furrowed brow.

"Miss, I have something to report." His voice trembled slightly like morning dew, and the tail end of the tone was half carried away by the draft.

From inside the room came the crisp sound of a jade hairpin tapping against a bronze mirror, like pearls falling on a jade plate. Shen Weiwan's voice drifted out through the crack in the door, lazily, the sound of someone just finishing a snack, tinged with the sweetness of peach blossom pastry: "Come in, housekeeper."

As the old man pushed the door open, the sandalwood hinge creaked softly, startling a parrot and causing it to flutter its wings. Chen Weiwan was inserting her hairpin into a diamond-shaped bronze mirror. The silver-embroidered lotus on her moon-white skirt shimmered with her movements, each stitch gleaming in the sunlight. The jade hairpin with twin lotus stems at her temples was particularly striking, its mutton-fat jade shaft radiating a gentle glow. It had been sent by the Seventh Prince three days earlier. Tiny pearls were embedded in the stamens of the two lotus flowers on the hairpin's head, swaying gently with her movements. On the dressing table lay half a peach blossom pastry, its crumbs scattered on a porcelain dish with a lotus pattern. Next to it, a corner of a plain paper revealed the hook of the character "itch." The sharp brushstrokes were clearly the Seventh Prince's signature cursive style, and the paper still clung to the faint scent of ink.

"Miss," the old housekeeper put the account book on the rosewood table, and rubbed the gold-plated words "Zhongkui" on the cover with his fingertips. The gold-plated words were a little mottled due to years of wear and tear. "The news about the Spring Festival Banquet has spread throughout the front yard and the back kitchen." As he spoke, his eyes unconsciously swept over the mutton-fat jade bracelet that suddenly appeared on Shen Weiwan's wrist - it was a thank-you gift sent by the wife of the Taifu yesterday, and a small "Fu" character was engraved on the inner wall of the jade bracelet.

When Chen Weiwan turned around, there was still a bit of peach crumbs on the corner of her mouth. Her almond eyes curved into cunning crescents, and her eyelashes cast fan-shaped shadows under her eyelids: "Oh? What did the housekeeper hear? Could it be that I was bullied by my cousin again?" As she spoke, her fingertips unconsciously rubbed the corner of her mouth, but deliberately left a little crumbs, like a little animal stealing food.

The old housekeeper's throat rolled, his eyes fell on the jade hairpin swaying on her temples, and finally changed his words, with an obvious smile in his voice: "I heard that the eldest lady was favored by the wife of the Grand Tutor, and she looked so... radiant in that cloud-patterned satin dress." He paused, remembering the servants' description of Shen Ruorou's ugly scratching at the banquet the other day, and couldn't help coughing.

"Radiant?" Chen Weiwan picked up the handkerchief embroidered with lotus flowers and wiped the corners of her mouth. Her fingertips reflected a playful arc in the mirror. "I think my cousin was more radiant when she performed the 'scratching dance' at the banquet." As she spoke, she suddenly imitated Shen Ruoruo's scratching of her ears and cheeks, causing Chuntao, who was standing beside her, to chuckle.

The old housekeeper suddenly lifted the front of his long gown and bowed deeply to Shen Weiwan. His gray beard almost brushed the blue brick floor, and the jade pendant on his waist hit the corner of the table with a "ding" sound: "Miss! Your trick of 'returning the favor in their own way' is really great!" When he straightened up, admiration was reflected in the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his turbid eyes flashed with light, "You didn't get your hands dirty with grass scraps, and made the second young lady look bad in public. In the end, you even got the pity of the Taifu's wife. This move is even better than the general's use of troops back then!" When he mentioned the late general, his voice was choked with sobs.

"Butler, you're too kind." Chen Weiwan raised an eyebrow, the jade hairpin drawing a silver arc at her temples, the pearl on the hairpin gently tapping against the mirror, making a small sound. "I'm just returning the grass scraps she sewed into my skirt." She opened the account book, her fingertips touching a purchase record, her nails stained the crimson of impatiens. "But butler, look, the rouge and powder Liu bought this month is enough to supply all the girls in the city's brothels for half a year."

The old butler followed her finger and saw a string of glaring zeros following the amount for "high-quality storax" in the account book. The ink smudged across the rice paper like an ugly scar. He sighed deeply, veins bulging in his sleeves, as if the number wasn't a number but a knife cutting into his heart. "Ever since the general passed away, the treasury key has never left her hand. I can't even reach the threshold... Alas, when the general was here, he personally handed the treasury key to me for safekeeping..."

"Key?" Chen Weiwan put down the account book and tapped her knuckles on the table. She remembered the fake copper key that she had deliberately dangled in front of Liu's window three days ago. The key had been smeared with sheep oil, making it feel sticky. "Within three days, the key will naturally be where it should be." She suddenly listened. From the direction of Xiefang Courtyard came the sound of shattering porcelain, accompanied by Liu's sharp curses. "Did you hear that? Liu is smashing things again. Yesterday, she sent a servant to sneak into my room, but I'm afraid he didn't even touch the lacquer on the key box."

Chuntao withdrew her head from the window, with a piece of willow catkins still stuck on the velvet flower in her hair. She said breathlessly: "Miss, I saw that Liu's eyes were swollen from crying this morning, and there were black and blue spots under her eyes. I'm afraid she didn't sleep well last night." As she spoke, her fingers nervously tugged at the hem of her skirt, which was her usual habit when she was nervous.

Chen Weiwan picked up the glass paperweight on the table and tossed it. The pale blue glass spun in her palm, reflecting the cold light in her eyes. "Of course she can't sleep well." The paperweight suddenly stopped in mid-air. She looked at the old housekeeper, her eyes as sharp as a knife. "Housekeeper, at midnight tonight, take some trusted servants and go to the cellar of Xiefangyuan."

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