Upon Her Lips - Chapter 29

Chapter 29

The Next Morning

The weather turned unexpectedly bright and clear.

In this private domain on the outskirts of the Northern District, where sunlight rarely reaches, the new day began with the surprised, joyful voice of a child.

Yuran’s small figure appeared on the snow-covered grounds of the backyard. Her dark, fuzzy silhouette stood out sharply against the blanket of ice and snow. Carrying a large basket of washed fabrics, her short legs trudged slowly and with great effort through the snow until she finally reached her intended destination and set the load down with a sigh of relief.

A few curious servants watched her from the shadows beneath the corridor eaves, wondering what she was up to.

For vampires, throughout thousands of years of evolution, although they no longer fear the sun, their dark lineage still leaves them more or less uncomfortable under piercing sunlight—they are naturally disinclined toward it. The mountain ridges of the North and the Mu family estate were perennialy cold and damp; sunlight rarely hit directly, and even when it did, it was only a faint, harmless glimmer.

Today’s intense solar radiation was the first in many years. This forced the servants to cover most of the windows with opaque black cloth, sealing the house tight before Mu Fei’s picky temperament could flare up.

Yuran, seemingly oblivious to the fact that half the windows were shrouded, worked hard to lift the fabrics from the basket and shake them out. These were no ordinary cloths, but a batch of table linens sent by a shop the previous night—items Mu Fei had taken a liking to during a previous outing. Even though they were brand new, Aunt Dai had instructed the servants to wash these expensive, patterned linens once more before they could be laid out in the Lady’s study and bedroom.

Naturally, the delicacy of these linens required hand-washing, making the process a bit slow. Yuran, who had woken up early to help Mr. Han Sheng sharpen deboning knives in the kitchen, had been called away by the laundry room to assist.

“Yuran’s hands cannot touch cold water,” Han Sheng had told Aunt Dai, unwilling to let her go.

“I’m just having her stand by so I can give her orders as needed. It’s more convenient to have her by my side,” Aunt Dai replied. She was well aware of the healing sores on Yuran’s hands—she wasn’t foolish, and she knew exactly where that chilblain cream came from.

Han Sheng remained reluctant, finding the kitchen dull without her. “You have so many servants; what can this little thing even do?”

“She has her uses,” Aunt Dai said, shutting him down with the superficial excuse of “Everything is for the Mistress.” Frustrated, Han Sheng could only let Yuran go.

As it turned out, her task was to dry the linens.

Usually, all fabrics used by the Mistress are disinfected and dried using specialized crystal-powered machines. Unfortunately, the expensive and usually reliable machine had inexplicably stopped working today, leaving Aunt Dai in a panic. If the washed, patterned linens were left piled together for too long, the colors might bleed into one another—a potential disaster.

Seeing the brilliant sunshine, which was wonderful weather for a human, Aunt Dai thought of the “Little Mascot.” Thus, she had gone to the kitchen to fetch her.

Now, Yuran followed Aunt Dai’s instructions, dragging the baskets of delicate linens out to the backyard to let the perfect, expensive pieces dry in the sun. This natural method of drying and disinfecting is common in the human world, but for vampires, the process of hanging clothes under the scorching sun is agonizing—something they dislike, even loathe.

Yuran carefully placed the linens on the clean drying racks. Hearing that these were for the Lady, her movements became even more cautious. Smelling the faint fragrance of the fabric, Yuran felt as if she were smelling the Lady herself… No, rather, it felt as if the Lady were right there beside her.

She confirmed this thought to herself and looked up at the racks, which were taller than she was. Because the backyard was cleaned daily, the racks were spotless. Still, hanging the linens was a struggle; she needed a stool.

Fortunately, Aunt Dai was considerate and provided everything she needed: a stool, small clips, gloves, and a hot drink to quench her thirst.

Before putting on the gloves, Yuran endured the cold and washed her hands several times. She had been handling knives in the kitchen, and though there was no lingering scent, she was mindful of it and used a vanilla-scented soap. Her hands were now fresh and clean.

She put on the gloves regardless; after all, only the Lady should touch such expensive fabrics directly. Yuran started with the smaller placemats, holding them carefully and moving tremulously atop the stool. Though slow, she managed to hang them perfectly on the stainless steel racks.

The backyard was vast, yet only this one little girl was busy running back and forth. In this entire mansion, she was the only one who could receive the Sun God’s blessing for a long time without feeling pain.

Little Yuran didn’t feel tired at all, because this was a task given by Aunt Dai, and more importantly, because these were the Lady’s things. Every item belonging to the Lady was a treasure to be held in her palms. Yuran stared blankly at a beautifully embroidered tablecloth.

She suddenly remembered what Mr. Han Sheng had told her yesterday. He said her “spring of love had dawned.” She didn’t quite understand what that meant, so she asked her teacher. But he only laughed and said she would know when she grew up, telling her not to mention it to anyone else.

She understood his meaning and didn’t ask further. However, she desperately wanted to know: would this affect Lady Mu Fei? Was it a good thing or a bad thing for her? If it had a negative impact on the Lady, she would make sure never to have such strange thoughts again. In her heart, the Lady always came first; she never thought about herself.

Her teacher hadn’t said if it was good or bad, only that “Yuran is a kind, good child, and should be blessed by heaven.” Then he sent her back to work. To be honest, Yuran didn’t understand the cryptic answer, but hearing her teacher praise her made her feel much more at ease.

Because of this, she suddenly wanted to grow up faster. Then, perhaps, she would understand more.

With these thoughts in mind, Yuran basked in the warm sun, using small transparent clips to secure every piece of fabric so they wouldn’t blow away. She worked so diligently that her hot drink had long since cooled into ice water, the steam gone.

High above in a pavilion behind Yuran, a pair of eyes watched her quietly.

Mu Fei stood in her inner chamber. She had pulled back a corner of the black curtain just slightly. The glaring sunlight did not pierce through; instead, a small figure fell into her sight.

It was that little thing, Yuran.

She was hanging all the newly purchased linens by herself. The small figure never stopped for a moment, busily moving here and there. Only after every single cloth in the baskets was hung out perfectly flat did Yuran slowly straighten her back.

She inspected each piece carefully. Satisfied that everything was perfect, she let out a long sigh, then opened her arms to the warm sun and laughed happily—a truly silly sight.

Is doing so much work by yourself really that pleasing?

Mu Fei watched Yuran bathed in the light—her rosy face glowing from the sun and her exposed neck. Even from a distance, she could see her clearly. Mu Fei narrowed her eyes; in her vision, the dense network of pulsing blood vessels became visible.

She had to admit, having gone so long without fresh blood, this sight was suddenly tempting. It was a hundred times more lethal than the “food” delivered to her lips by the girls at the banquet in Liandu.

Was it the instinct of a predator?

“Tsk.”

Mu Fei took off her gold-rimmed glasses, slightly suppressed her crimson eyes, and let the curtain fall.