A Marquis's Servant Wife

Ji Kexing, the eldest son of the Marquis of Yongning, was as graceful as a jade tree, handsome and refined, and a model for the young noblemen of the capital. But no one knew that this bright and noble young master of the Ji family had recently developed a terrible headache. He could not sleep at night, and his temper grew increasingly ill-natured. Then he happened to discover that he could sleep peacefully as long as he was near that servant’s wife, a lowly maid. Her name was Awu. She was humble, clumsy, and not much of a talker. And very easy to fool. At first, Ji Kexing only meant to free her from her status as a servant and give her untold riches. Once his headaches were cured, they would owe each other nothing. For the servant couple, it was a stroke of good fortune, too. Awu served him nervously, obedient and well-behaved. Ji Kexing thought he could be a little kinder to her. But later, that timid maid actually ran away. Ji Yunye was Ji Kexing’s younger brother. Wild and unruly, he was beyond even the marquis and his wife’s control. Only his elder brother could keep him in line, at least a little. That was because he revered his brother above all others. No matter how wanton he got, he would still heed his brother’s advice. But for some reason, his usually upright and principled brother had become bewitched by a servant’s wife, sinking into depravity and growing more and more obsessed. Unable to stand by and watch his brother ruin himself, Ji Yunye took Awu away, intending to dispose of her quietly. How could a mere maid from the marquis’s residence, with only a pretty face to recommend her, ruin his brother’s bright future? And so Awu disappeared from the marquis’s residence. When Ji Kexing found the little courtyard where his brother had hidden Awu, he heard intermittent sounds from within. His usually unruly younger brother’s voice was strangely gentle. “Sweet Awu, would your elder brother treat you like this?” “How do I compare to him?” Ji Kexing sneered and pushed open the door. Guiding Principle: Even a tiny moss flower can aspire to bloom like a peony.