A single sentence stirred up a hornet’s nest, and the few matrons in the kitchen and stove started shouting and pointing fingers, saying she’s just a maid, hasn’t even earned the title of a concubine, just like the rest of them, all are just servants, yet she’s putting on airs! Shouldn’t she take a look at whether she deserves it?
They also ntioned that this year’s snow is heavy, these rare goods are hard to co by, and it’s fortunate to have any at all. Even the masters above eat whatever is available, yet here she is, a maid who hasn’t seen the legitimate path, wanting this and that, acting like a master.
Daily, her portion of fat chicken and duck isn’t enough, why make such a scene for whom to see? What is her background, has she no sense of her place? Just a poor family’s maid, sold into servitude by her parents because she couldn’t be fed, a lowborn brat, and after just a few days in the master’s bed, she’s beco complacent, forgetting her own worth?
In the future, she’ll eat whatever is given in her portion, the master’s from the main kitchen can’t even be fully served, where’s the energy to serve these fake masters?
A food box was thrown over, containing two bowls of greasy stead pork and smoked duck, which the maid couldn’t bring herself to eat. Having followed Pearl, she was used to eating the leftovers Pearl didn’t want—delicacies of the mountains and seas—and developed a picky mouth, so she left the food box untouched and went back.
This maid of Pearl’s is really foolish, she recited word-for-word what the kitchen matrons said to Pearl.
Infuriating Pearl to the point of fainting, she cried in her room for half a day and complained tearfully to Song Chongjun when he returned.
At this point, Song Chongjun recalled, within just two months, the atmosphere in the mansion changed, and now he, his wife, and his beloved maid were starting to suffer grievances, what would it be like in the future...
Thinking of this, Song Chongjun panted heavily, yet retained so reason, looking at Wang Huaiyuan: "Only helping fight for the title of Princely Heir? Only targeting Song Chongjin?"
Wang Huaiyuan understood Song Chongjun was about to take the bait, so he added fuel to the fire, suppressing the joy in his heart, "Naturally! To be honest with you, you know, our family’s aunt faced humiliation upon the return of that one from your mansion, and not only was her reputation tarnished, but she also broke her bone, bedridden and unable to step down now."
"Everyone knows, our Lord Duke dotes on this daughter the most, having suffered such a loss, how could he rest easy? After all, we’re old relatives between the two mansions, tearing faces over this isn’t worthwhile. Moreover, grievances have heads and debts have owners, can’t lump everyone together, naturally must seek out the culprit for reckoning."
"All of this started because of Song Chongjin, it was his rural mother-in-law who hit our aunt, and his rural wife who slandered our aunt and tarnished her reputation. Our Wang Family seeks out these three individuals; Song Chongjin relies on the Duke’s favoritism, but if we were to ruin his prospects, make his reputation plumt..."
Saying this, Wang Huaiyuan glanced at Song Chongjun, full of hints.
Song Chongjun’s heart raced; if, if they could truly ruin Song Chongjin’s prospects and make him a disgrace, then he couldn’t beco the Princely Heir.
With a son like that, it’s also the Duke Weiuguo Mansion’s disgrace, father likely wouldn’t tolerate it.
Then, for Duke Weiuguo’s sake, regardless of father-son sentints, he’d return Song Chongjin to where he ca from.
At most, he’d give him so silver coins, let him be a wealthy village gentleman...
The more Song Chongjun thought about it, the more excited he beca; thus the Duke Weiuguo Mansion would return to its forr peace, and he’d remain the eldest son, attaining the Princely Heir position as his ambition!
Soone like Song Chongjin, with his muddy background, should go back to the countryside and deal with mud for life!
"You... what do you plan to do?" Song Chongjun licked his lips, looked at Wang Huaiyuan.
※※※
At this mont, Song Chongjin, who was being targeted by Song Chongjun and the Wang family, was writing vigorously in the exam room.
This year, examinees had bad luck, encountering a sudden cold snap in early spring; though February has been cold in previous years, dayti temperatures would be slightly higher.
But this year, continuous drizzle along with so snow made the exam rooms damp and cold, and upon entering, body warmth dissipated quickly, with the chill seeping into the bones through the hands and feet.
The examining officials and soldiers wrapped themselves in thick cotton jackets and robes, topped with coir raincoats and straw hats, moving around in the exam site was manageable, but the poor examinees were restricted to the narrow exam rooms, those with weaker constitutions shivering uncontrollably, unable to lift their pens to write.
Fortunately, this year’s chief examiner saw the unfavorable weather and petitioned the Emperor, ensuring ample charcoal fire for each exam room to avoid cases of freezing to death or injury.
This barely alleviated the examinees’ plight.
Song Chongjin was well-prepared, entering the exam room while others were freezing numb, he calmly studied the exam questions, and once he figured out the approach, he wrote smoothly.
A wolf fur rug was half underneath him sitting, half wrapped around him like a thick blanket, snug and warm.
Though he accepted a pair of boots from Lady Gao that day, he wore the boots designed by Wang Yongzhu, who had soone specially make them via Yang Zongbao, sheepskin with fleece, cozy and warm.
Inside the small exam room, the coal pot’s fire was burning vigorously, with the kettle suspended above already bubbling away.
Having finished a section, Song Chongjin felt hungry, stood up to place the flatbread he brought onto the coal pot, toasting it with tongs while warming his hands.
Soon enough, the flatbread was toasted crispy and aromatic, he broke it open, spread the mushroom sauce he brought, the rising heat carried the savory sll a long distance.
Slling this aroma, nearby examinees’ stomachs started rumbling too.
Most people weren’t as thoroughly prepared as Song Chongjin, they only brought so buns and flatbread, swallowing them whole with hot water.
Those further away might manage, but examinees in nearer rooms with dry hard buns struggled to consu upon slling the neighboring fragrance.
The examinee facing Song Chongjin, seeing him toast flatbread on the coal pot, began to imitate him.
However, it looks easy but is hard to do, these examinees with their untainted fingers, the type avoiding kitchen work, how would they know how to toast flatbread?
One after another directly tossed their flatbread and buns into the coal fire, quickly charring them, emitting unpleasant burnt odors.
Then they hurriedly tried to retrieve the flatbread but nearly burned their hands; fortunately, the examining officials noticed, advising them to use tongs to pull out the flatbread and buns.
They had already turned into blackened charcoal.
With limited provisions brought in, even if it’s charred, tossing them away ans they’ll face hunger later; in such weather, how would they endure?
They could only tough it out by peeling off the outer charred layer and eating the insides.
Looking up, each of them had black smudges around their mouths, making the officials shake their heads.
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