He smiled gently and said, "I'll stay with you and your daughter today!"
Wu Chun smiled faintly, and the teardrops hanging in the air fell into the jade porcelain plate in front of her, rolling down and shattering.
The next morning, Fukang'an returned to Jian Gong Zhai for breakfast. He had just taken a sip of the barley porridge when he realized that the food prepared by Chef Wu since childhood was not his own. Fukang'an looked at Yan Ning, "Is Chef Wu still in the courtyard?"
Yan Ning paused her stirring with the porcelain spoon, and nodded. "Yes, but I saw that he was getting old, so I told him not to interfere with the meals in the various courtyards anymore, for fear that he would forget things in his old age!"
When she was changing head chefs, Zhuxiang had told her that Chef Wu had grown up serving Fukang'an since childhood. If she were to change head chefs, she would have to ask the old lady for permission.
When Yan Ning went to ask the old lady, although the old lady did not understand why she replaced Chef Wu, since Yan Ning was now in charge of the affairs of the mansion, she could not interfere and so she went along with Yan Ning's wishes.
Knowing that Yan Ning harbored resentment towards Chef Wu, Fu Kang'an said nothing more, only instructing Yan Ning not to mistreat him.
Since Wu Chun's premature birth, Chef Wu has been treated like a servant in the kitchen, only doing odd jobs. Although he knew he was implicated by Xia'er, seeing Fukang'an's attitude towards Xi Ying, he couldn't say anything and could only silently accept it.
Although Yan Ning promised him that he could retire and return to his hometown, he could not leave the Fucha Mansion. Otherwise, he would be like a dog abandoned by its master. He was already crippled, and if he were to ruin his reputation as well, he would not even be able to find a desolate place to settle down.
Chef Liu was trained by Chef Wu and was grateful to him, so he assigned him some light tasks.
Holding a basket of peeled chestnuts, Chef Wu rolled up his greasy sleeves. These were the old white robes the late emperor wore when he passed away, and the grease on them came from the smoke in the imperial kitchen.
He muttered to himself, "This chestnut flour needs to be ground carefully, a fraction coarser than the fine sand on the ground in the flower garden outside. It can only be a fraction coarser. If it's ground too coarse, the old lady at her age certainly won't like the rough texture. If it's ground too fine, it won't be pleasant to eat."
After finishing his speech, Chef Wu glanced at the cluttered items and utensils piled up haphazardly in the room, and gave a helpless, bitter smile. There was no one left to listen to his rambling.
The window frames were covered with oil paper, blocking out sunlight and making the room somewhat dark. Chef Wu's aged face was hidden within the paper, a far cry from his former glory in the kitchen. He stopped rambling and buried himself in his work.
When the chestnut flour was halfway ground, a servant from the kitchen courtyard came in and said gruffly, "Hey, someone from the front yard sent word that one of your fellow villagers is looking for you!" Chef Wu paused, knowing his usual temper, he would have kicked the servant. But then he thought, in the past, would these servants he used to order around dare to speak to him like that?
He sighed dejectedly; his current status was different from before. Putting down the chestnut flour, he wondered who among his fellow villagers would come looking for him. In the past, those who aspired to work for the Fucha family would come to him as tribute during festivals. But during the Empress Dowager's mourning period, who would come looking for him?
Chef Wu couldn't figure out who it was, so he changed into a new white mourning robe and went to the front yard.
As the servants at Jian Gong Zhai packed Fukang'an and Yan Ning's belongings for their journey to the palace, Fukang'an ordered them to pack some light clothing for the two of them. Yan Ning glanced at the thick, bulging bundle, knowing full well that this trip might mean not knowing when she would return home.
The spring sun shone brightly. If it weren't for the puddles of water left on the bluestone slabs of the road, wetting Yan Ning's shoes and socks, the torrential rain of last night would have been nothing more than a dream to her.
The carriage stopped in front of the mansion gate. A carriage pulled by four horses is extremely rare in the capital.
Dressed in a coarse black cloth robe, Wei Changyun walked around the carriage. Although no decorations were hanging on the carriage during the Empress Dowager's mourning period, the craftsmanship and wood of the carriage still made him click his tongue in admiration. He hadn't touched such an elegant carriage in decades; he was tired of seeing the imperial carriages in the palace back in the day.
As Chef Wu stepped out of the mansion, he saw Wei Changyun rubbing his hands against the carriage of the Fucha mansion from afar. Before Chef Wu could react, Luo Song, the steward of the front courtyard of the Fucha mansion, ran over and reprimanded Wei Changyun.
Wei Changyun scoffed at him. Chef Wu came from the palace to the Fucha Mansion, so his status was far higher than that of other servants. Wei Changyun was also from the same hometown as Chef Wu. He was scolded for just touching him a few times. No matter how prestigious the carriage of the Fucha Mansion was, it could not compare to the one in the palace.
Wei Changyun spat at Butler Luo, patted his thin chest, and said, "I used to be the personal servant of the Holy Ancestor's favorite concubine, Miss Yue. If it were during the Holy Ancestor's time, you, a mere butler from the Fucha Mansion, couldn't even reach the heels of the Holy Ancestor's shoes!"
Perhaps he spoke too hastily, because he coughed up a few more mouthfuls of phlegm.
Seeing that Wei Changyun, who was several decades older than him, was acquainted with Chef Wu, Steward Luo, who was just over thirty years old, concluded that he must be a eunuch from the palace. But judging from his impoverished and down-on-his-luck appearance, and his arrogant attitude towards his age, Steward Luo couldn't help but sneer, "Miss Yue? If you were truly the Emperor's favored concubine, how could you be a 'Miss'? If you really are from the palace, then go to the palace. My Fucha family can't keep you here!"
Chef Wu quickly took a few steps and pulled Wei Changyun, who was about to say something more, away from the carriage. He scolded him anxiously, "Don't cause any trouble! Our lady is pregnant now. If anything happens to the carriage, you can't bear the consequences!"
Upon seeing Chef Wu, Wei Changyun felt even more confident. He grabbed Chef Wu with one hand and pulled Butler Luo with the other, arguing, "Ask your Chef Wu of the Fucha Mansion if I am Miss Yue's personal servant!"
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