s to do so, and he had no idea how to word it.

Fan Xian could tell that he was deep in thought. Moved, he clasped his hands respectfully and bowed slightly. "Don't worry, Mister Teng," he said, asking him to make sure his luggage was taken care of, and suggesting that he might call upon him later that evening.

To calmly arrange the day's later affairs at such a moment at this suggested to Teng Zijing that this handsome young man possessed a great maturity. On hearing it, he relaxed slightly and smiled, going off with the young manservant to rest in the courtyard to the side.

A young servant-girl took the place of the young manservant. She was a rather pretty young woman. Fan Xian followed her into the rear courtyard.

A middle aged woman, carrying a bra.s.s basin, walked up to them and curtsied. She washed his face with pleasantly warm water.

Fan Xian remained silent as he washed his hands. He returned the towel and thanked her.

The woman was rather taken aback to hear him thank her. She walked away, somewhat confused.

Fan Xian smiled. "The capital's nothing like Danzhou", he thought. The politeness he'd shown to servant girls was seen as excessive and inappropriate here.

He entered the inner courtyard, but instead of standing in a foyer, he was led into a side door by the servant-girl. The walls around the side door were all painted white, and black eaves protruded slightly from above the pa.s.sageway.

He stood there for a while, but no one came to meet him. He was unsure whether this was intended to put him in his place in the mansion as the Count's baseborn son. He sighed, beginning to feel uneasy. He looked up at the carefully-constructed black eaves. The old manor was a indeed a rather tasteful building.

He was incorrect in his a.s.sumptions, however. The young servant-girl and the old made stood to one side not because they wished to treat him coldly, but because they were aware of his status. They did not dare to approach him. This was partly because they were unsure how to address him, as he was not the son of the Count's legal wife. But it was also because the Count had not yet arrived, and as servants they did not dare to act rashly. Someone had already gone to inform the master of the house.

Fan Xian waited. With a self-deprecating smile, he called over the young servant-girl.

She was quite young, her face delicate and fair. "Young... young ... what is your wish?" She had, at first, wanted to address him as 'young master', but she was unsure if it was appropriate. She stammered, her face turning crimson.

"Bring me a chair," said Fan Xian, giggling at her discomfort.

She followed his orders, carrying in a heavy wooden chair from the hall, which left her slightly out of breath.

Fan Xian drew closer and took hold of the chair, placing it on the ground and smiling slightly. He sat down on it with n.o.ble bearing, and lifted his head to look at the eaves, ignoring the rest of his surroundings.

When she saw him sit on the chair, the servant-girl was shocked. If one's elders are yet to arrive, one should stand with one's hands folded - how could he act so boldly?

...

The sound of footsteps echoed from the hall, and a light fragrance was carried on the wind. It could make one's heart flutter. Fan Xian turned his head to the side, and saw a n.o.blewoman approaching, a slight smile on her face. She was good-looking, and her eyes were neatly decorated with eyeshadow. She wore a skirt that fluttered around her, and her beauty was sure to turn heads wherever she went. Hers was an air of reserved n.o.bility that suggested that she was not to be trifled with.

Fan Xian let out a sigh and stood up from the chair.

She raised her umber-painted eyebrows and smiled, lighting up the room. "Xian," she said, regarding him from afar. "The journey must have been difficult. Take a seat."

"Good day, stepmother," said Fan Xian, smiling sweetly.