The next day, Yu Mian came knocking at her door again.
Pei Songxi opened it, ignored her as before, let her into the room, and went on with her own business.
The girl carried in a glass of milk — probably because Auntie Zhang had noticed her poor appetite and worried it would stunt her growth, and had mixed it for her specially.
Pei Songxi gave her a faint glance and said nothing. She was practicing calligraphy.
Yu Mian cradled the cup in her small hands and took a careful little sip, licking her lips, not daring to make a sound.
She couldn’t help watching her write — the nape of her neck bending gracefully, the pale lines of her wrist, the pen tip gliding across the paper… She didn’t dare watch for long, quickly looking away, and noticed a beautifully framed landscape painting hanging above the desk, brushed in freehand ink, with a line of writing at the far right: Pine Stream Under the Moon.
She tilted her head and thought about it. Was that her name?
Auntie… Pei Songxi?
Pei Songxi set down her brush. She loved quiet, and disliked noise even more when practicing calligraphy. The little girl was quiet too, almost never speaking to her first; sometimes, when enough time passed, Pei Songxi would think she had already left — the girl even matched her breathing to hers, clever beyond her years in a way that was hard to detect.
She glanced back. The little girl’s milk was barely touched — more than half left — with a smudge of milk foam at the corner of her mouth, like a ring of white beard.
Yu Mian grew nervous under her gaze, gripping the cup tighter. She thought for a moment, then hopped off the bed.
She ran to the desk. She wasn’t tall enough, so she had to rise on tiptoe to set the cup down, her voice clear and childish. “Do you want some?”
Pei Songxi hadn’t drunk warm milk in many years.
She stared at the cup, momentarily blank.
Yu Mian froze, then seemed to remember something. “Wait here a second!” — and dashed out.
Soon she ran back, carrying a glass of milk still steaming, her fingertips scalded slightly red. “This one I haven’t drunk from.”
She probably thought she was being looked down on.
Pei Songxi met her pure, clear gaze — clean, without a trace of calculation, without any careful flattery. She simply genuinely wanted to share with her.
She frowned slightly, but drank it anyway.
It tasted strange.
Yu Mian tilted her head up, watching Pei Songxi drink the milk, and couldn’t help giggling secretly.
Pei Songxi never called her by name and rarely said more than a word or two to her — cool and distant. Before she knew it, the whole morning had slipped by.
At noon, Auntie Zhang came to call her to lunch and was startled to see Yu Mian coming out of her room. “What are you doing running around… Come, come out with me.”
Pei Songxi said mildly, “It’s fine.”
Hearing those two words, Yu Mian couldn’t help smiling, then ducked her head at once as if afraid of being caught, and followed her out.
How strange. Everyone in this household smiled at her, yet the only one she trusted, the only one she wanted to follow, was her.
The lunch table was a little livelier today. Ding Mei kept talking to Pei Linmao: “Little Yuan’s flight lands this afternoon. Remember to pick him up.”
Pei Linmao grunted. “I know. Put my son’s coat in my car in a bit — the weather’s turned cooler these past few days.”
“I know, I know, I took it out ages ago, I’ll put it in your car in a minute. Oh, and Auntie Zhang — remember to make Little Yuan’s favorite Oil-Braised Prawns.”
Auntie Zhang nodded with a smile. “Don’t you worry, ma’am. We remember every dish the Young Master likes. We bought all the ingredients this morning.”
Pei Tiancheng missed his grandson too. “Next time you sign the boy up for summer camp, don’t pick one that lasts so long. Two whole months — of course the child misses home.”
Ding Mei sighed, a little regretful. “Isn’t that the truth. I’ve missed my darling baby to death.”
Yu Mian listened quietly, eating a little rice. Her appetite was small; each meal she ate only half a small bowl, picked at a bit of greens, taking tiny bites.
Suddenly a shadow passed over her head, and several slices of beef appeared in her bowl. She looked up in surprise, meeting Pei Songxi’s faint gaze, then carefully glanced around — everyone was talking; no one had noticed.
It was their little secret.
She secretly curved her lips and scooted her chair a little closer, wanting to be nearer to her.
Pei Songxi, as always, was the first to leave the table.
The moment she finished eating, Yu Mian set down her chopsticks and hopped off her chair.
Pei Songxi never joined the family’s chatter. She went upstairs to look in on her grandmother, then came back down — and after a few steps, noticed Yu Mian secretly following her.
She walked ahead; the girl followed behind, stepping on her shadow.
It wasn’t until they reached the third floor, at her door, that she spoke. “Come out.”
The child emerged guiltily from around the corner, hands nervously clutching the hem of her top, looking at her timidly, wanting to say something but not daring to.
Pei Songxi regarded her for a moment, then gently shook her head.
Her voice was soft, almost a murmur to herself. “Fine.”
Did that mean… she was allowed to follow her?
Yu Mian couldn’t help clenching her little fists, smiling carefully — but she didn’t dare follow her again. She returned to her own room, where the midday sun slanted through the glass, dancing lightly on the floor.
She stepped along the little squares of light, hopping a few steps, then flung herself back at the bed, pulled the orange out from under her pillow, and — smooch — kissed it again.
…
The Pei household was rarely so lively.
The servants bustled about, changing bed linens, tidying rooms, airing quilts on the balcony — a brief clamor, while the third floor stayed silent.
Yu Mian sat on the floor reading a fairy-tale book when Auntie Zhang knocked and came in. “Shall we air out your little quilt?”
Yu Mian nodded. “Okay. I like it when my quilt smells nice.”
“What are you reading?”
Yu Mian, a little embarrassed, tilted the book away. There were still many characters she didn’t know; luckily there was pinyin and pictures, though she didn’t understand much of it.
Auntie Zhang gave her a tender look. “Want to come up with me and get some sun on the balcony? The Eldest Miss will be up there too, though — you mustn’t make noise.”
At the second half of that sentence, Yu Mian’s eyes lit up. “Okay! Let’s go up.”
She didn’t like to talk here, never showed her feelings or preferences — this was the first time Auntie Zhang had seen her so happy. She stroked her hair fondly. “I’ll carry the quilt; you follow me.”
Yu Mian nodded obediently.
On the balcony.
Zhou Ruyun lay in a lounge chair sunning herself, eyes half closed.
Pei Songxi held a wooden comb, combing the old lady’s hair with the gentlest of motions — silver strands like frost, each one a mark left by time.
Yu Mian stood beside Auntie Zhang, but her eyes kept sneaking over to Pei Songxi.
A commotion rose downstairs — the screech of brakes, the low hum of the iron gate swinging open, Ding Mei calling out affectionately, “Sweetheart!” — the Pei Family’s little Young Master, Pei Zhiyuan, had come home.
Yu Mian leaned over the railing and peeked down, catching only a glimpse of a little boy about her age dashing through the courtyard like the wind, running upstairs as he shouted, “Auntie! Great-Grandma!”
Yu Mian stepped back.
Pei Zhiyuan charged onto the balcony. He had always loved his little aunt and his great-grandmother best. The old lady, woken by his racket, waved at him fondly and patted his head, though she hadn’t the strength to lift him.
So Pei Zhiyuan tried to clamber onto Pei Songxi instead — but her expression stayed flat, and she swatted his hands away. “Down.”
He was long used to her coldness, yet still felt wronged.
Then his gaze landed on Yu Mian, and he forgot his grievance at once, frowning. “Who’s this?”
Ding Mei had just come up and explained to her son, “She’s a child from your grandpa’s friend’s family. Her parents passed away, and she’ll be living with us from now on.”
Yu Mian lowered her head, shifting on her toes, and slowly backed up a step.
The little devil blinked, then suddenly burst into loud wails. “Is she my little sister? When did you two secretly have a sister and hide it from me! No wonder you sent me to summer camp! Do you not love me anymore?”
Ding Mei’s heart ached at his crying, and she swept him into her arms. “She’s not your sister! Papa and Mama love Little Yuan most of all! What nonsense are you spouting, child!”
Reassured by his mother’s promise, Pei Zhiyuan relaxed a little — but remained on high alert. “Then make her leave! Why should she get to stay in my house? Isn’t there an orphanage? She—”
“Pei Zhiyuan.”
Pei Songxi fixed him with a cold, stern gaze. “No shouting.”
Pei Zhiyuan feared her above all; her sharp tone made him freeze. “…Auntie?”
Pei Songxi said nothing more and held out a hand to Yu Mian.
Yu Mian looked up at her, took two steps forward, and instinctively raised her hand — but only dared to hold the very tips of her fingers.
Pei Songxi bent down, slipped a slender arm around her, and lifted her up.
The child lowered her head, docile and quiet, her tender cheek pressed into her shoulder, and called out softly, “…Auntie Pei.”
Pei Songxi didn’t respond. She simply patted her back lightly and walked toward the stairs.
