Chapter 8: The Detailed Account of Fate

Chapter 8: Unraveling the Cause

Decades have swiftly passed, and Ba Yanhuan has now attained the rank of Grand Master of the Golden Purple Light Ministry.

The Dayuan court has always favored civil officials over military ones. As a third-rank civil official, he holds a respectable position within the government, belonging to the refined class of civil servants who form their own distinguished faction.

However, to the eyes of the imperial family and nobility, a third-rank official is hardly impressive.

Yet, it is said that even a rank higher can overshadow many. Even a lowly seventh-rank minor official has a few sycophants around him, let alone someone as high as a third-rank court minister.

Chen Huazhu was one such opportunist, summoned from afar specifically to paint a birthday portrait for the elderly madam of the Ba household.

Within the Ba residence, various specialists—wine connoisseurs, painters, and tea masters—frequently came and went, but only a very few ever truly caught Ba Yanhuan’s discerning eye.

Chen Huazhu barely qualified to enter the household’s inner circle.

He excelled at painting portraits. Yun Jiao had seen the portraits he painted of her grandmother, which were remarkably lifelike, as if the subjects might step right off the canvas.

Ba Yanhuan recognized Chen’s uncommon talent in art and, since the old madam favored him, he was kept on in the household.

Later, he painted a portrait of the Ba family’s second young lady, Ba Yunfei—Yun Jiao’s elder sister. It was said that Ba Yunfei adored the portrait so much she hung it in her chamber before the paint was even dry. The other young ladies who visited all marveled and envied it.

Chen Huazhu’s skill gradually became well known, and more people sought his portraits. By now, his prospects in the imperial capital looked quite promising.

Yun Jiao had once seen him by chance. She vaguely recalled he looked to be in his twenties, slender in build, with an elegant and somewhat rakish demeanor, a face that indeed lived up to his name. Beyond that, she knew little.

Yun Jiao pondered for a moment, still puzzled. “That Chen Huazhu, I have no dealings with him. Why would he act so? And why would you follow his orders?”

Mu Jin clasped her hands tightly, lowering her head, her voice barely audible like a whisper.

Jian Jia suddenly seemed to recall something. “Mu Jin, I remember now—he came to see you before, probably after you fell ill earlier this year?”

Mu Jin had nearly lost her life during that severe illness, and Jian Jia remembered it clearly.

The tension Mu Jin had held onto so tightly snapped instantly at Jian Jia’s words. She could no longer hold back and covered her face, breaking into tears. Afterwards, she recounted the whole story in detail.

At that time, Chen Huazhu was still an obscure figure in the Ba household.

Though gifted in painting, he had never been formally educated and was illiterate. In this society, where scholarly achievement was prized above all else, such a person was hardly fit for any prominent stage. Ba Yanhuan kept him in the household but never truly regarded him.

However, though Ba Yanhuan looked down on him, the servants and footmen considered him somewhat of a character, and over time he grew familiar with the lower staff.

One evening, Mu Jin took advantage of a free moment to move some swallowtail incense plants back to her quarters. Near the door of a storeroom in the garden, she faintly heard voices from inside, but the door was securely locked.

Mu Jin was greatly frightened, thinking perhaps the place was haunted. But with the sun still setting outside, why would ghosts and demons stir up trouble before nightfall?

Listening carefully, the sounds seemed to have ceased. Mustering her courage, she pressed her face to the door’s crack to peer inside.

Though it was near dusk, the room faced a west window, so the light was still sufficient.

Inside stood a man with his back to the door, busily working at a worn square table, seemingly writing or painting.

Mu Jin found the figure familiar and after a moment recognized him as the household painter, Chen Huazhu.

By the window sat a woman in white, leaning against the lattice. After a moment’s thought, Mu Jin realized the painter was working on her portrait.

Chen Huazhu blocked her view of the woman’s face, so she tiptoed to the side window and made a small dot on the paper with her finger moistened by saliva, then pressed closer to look.

Her heart leapt in surprise. Sitting by the window was Chunfen, the personal maid of the second young lady.

Seeing this clearly only deepened Mu Jin’s suspicion. She had heard Chen Huazhu was friendly with the servants, but never that he painted any of them.

Moreover, the painter was employed to paint portraits for the old madam. A maid had no such privilege.

The two of them skulking here in secret was surely something best kept from others.

After a few glances, Mu Jin quietly stepped back. The second young lady was the eldest daughter of the main branch, proud and haughty, and her chief maid was naturally not to be trifled with.

The ninth young lady preferred tranquility and usually stayed in the courtyard, indifferent to affairs outside. She had instructed them to avoid others and steer clear of conflict unless absolutely necessary.

Thus, though everyone in the household knew Chen Huazhu well, Mu Jin had to think twice to recognize him.

Suddenly, a sharp female voice came from behind.

“What are you skulking about? What did you see?”

Mu Jin had been retreating stealthily, fearing detection by the two inside. She did not expect someone to appear from behind. The sudden shout caused her to almost collapse from fright.

Turning around, she saw it was Guyu, another chief maid serving the second young lady.

“Guyu,” Mu Jin steadied herself, inwardly alarmed, forcing a smile. “My lady asked me to see if there are any suitable swallowtail incense plants in the garden to transplant.”

At that moment, Guyu’s shout also alerted the two inside the storeroom.

Chen Huazhu opened the window and saw the two women outside but said nothing.

“Swallowtail incense in the storeroom?” Guyu snorted disdainfully and, without consent, grabbed Mu Jin’s wrist. “What could you possibly see from outside the window? Since you’re so curious, come inside and see clearly.”

“No, no need,” Mu Jin wriggled her arm, trying to break free. “Let me go. I must return—if the ninth young lady doesn’t find me, she will come looking.”

“Looking or not, what’s there to fear?” Guyu was unafraid, roughly dragging her toward the door.

Mu Jin was not short but slender, while Guyu was older and stronger. Mu Jin was no match as she was pulled to the door.

Guyu held her skirt with one hand and unlocked the door with the other, pushing Mu Jin inside.

Mu Jin tried to escape, but Chunfen was waiting by the door. As soon as they entered, the door was slammed shut.

“Let me out! I was just passing by! Why did you pull me in?” Mu Jin was frightened and struggled to pull back her skirt.

“Passing by?” Guyu sneered, refusing to let her speak. “You were hiding by the window spying and saw what we were doing, and now you want to run away?”

“Let’s speak calmly. No need for a quarrel. Guyu, please release her first,” came a gentle male voice.

Guyu scoffed and let go of Mu Jin’s hand.

Mu Jin looked up gratefully and saw Chen Huazhu smile faintly at her.

She had never been so close to a man before; nervous, she quickly lowered her gaze and saw the painting on the table.

(To be continued)