Chapter 19: The Proprietress

As soon as they entered the pavilion, Zhang Yiwei saw that it was packed to capacity. 

The guests’ laughter and conversation mingled with the sweet aroma of honey wine, filling the air.

This made Zhang Yiwei somewhat displeased. 

The thought of her precious Little Xi entering and drawing pointing fingers and whispers from these diners made her feel uncomfortable all over.

She wanted to turn back, but the promise had already been made—withdrawing now was too late.

In truth, even if she turned around right then, Nanxi would not have the slightest objection.

After all, this had been nothing more than Zhang Yiwei’s one-sided idea of a rendezvous.

Her steps paused only for a moment. 

She withdrew, then linked her arm with the boy’s and gently but firmly guided him inside.

On second thought, the fragrances in this place were quite alluring. 

Bringing her darling for a meal might not be so bad.

The waiter was sharp-eyed. 

Spotting their fine clothing and bearing—especially Zhang Yiwei, who wore only simple everyday attire yet exuded the unmistakable poise of one long accustomed to authority—he hurried over with a beaming smile.

“Honored guests, a private booth, please. We still have window seats upstairs—quiet and bright.”

Zhang Yiwei nodded slightly in acknowledgment. The waiter immediately bowed and led them to the second floor.

The second floor was indeed much quieter, divided into seven or eight relatively private spaces by carved wooden screens. 

The street-side featured open lattice windows hung with fine bamboo curtains, allowing ventilation and light while preserving some privacy.

At the moment, only two or three screens hid low-voiced conversations. 

The waiter guided them to a well-positioned seat toward the inner side with a good view.

Once seated, the waiter attentively served hot tea. Zhang Yiwei accepted it, glanced at the waiting attendant, and asked casually.

“I noticed your pavilion named after the eight treasures, but I wonder what those eight delicacies are. Could you tell me? It would broaden my knowledge.”

Her voice was calm, carrying her usual scholarly air.

The waiter cleared his throat, about to launch into a detailed introduction, when light, unhurried footsteps sounded from the stairs.

A graceful figure in red appeared at the turning.

It was a woman in a vermilion qipao, styled differently from common Central Plains attire—cut extremely close to the body, outlining breathtaking curves. 

Her deep purple hair was loosely pinned up with a simple jade hairpin, a few stray strands framing her cheeks.

Her beauty was striking, her brows and eyes brimming with allure. 

The corners of her lips naturally curved upward in a half-smile.

Most captivating was her demeanor—composed and relaxed, every step leisurely.

She carried a small purple-sand teapot, as if just emerging from the kitchen. 

Faint white steam rose from the spout, accompanied by a clear fragrance blending flowers, fruits, and herbs.

She walked straight toward Zhang Yiwei and Nanxi’s table.

Seeing her, the waiter’s face lit with even greater respect. 

He bowed slightly and greeted.

“Proprietress.”

She was the owner of Eight Treasures Pavilion.

The purple-haired woman nodded faintly to the waiter, her gaze naturally falling on the two at the table.

It lingered first on Zhang Yiwei’s face, then settled on Nanxi.

And once there, it did not move away.

She approached the table and gently set the small teapot on an empty spot nearby, her movements casual and natural.

Her deep purple eyes held a faint smile as she carefully appraised Nanxi.

“This young master—is it your first time at our Eight Treasures Pavilion?”

Her voice was warm and smooth.

“You look unfamiliar. Our eight-treasure banquet uses local mountain delicacies and river freshness, prepared with ancestral secret methods for a rather unique flavor. If the young master prefers lighter tastes, I recommend the jade belt soup or lotus blossom fish slices. For richer flavors, the red-braised mountain boar and eight-treasure duck are signatures.”

As she spoke, her gaze lingered on Nanxi’s face, as though admiring a fine painting.

Her eyes were not frivolous, yet overly intent—from his clear, handsome brows and eyes, to his straight nose bridge, to his lips still tinged with faint red.

Nanxi lifted his gaze, meeting hers calmly. 

He neither averted his eyes nor responded, simply looking back in quiet silence.

Zhang Yiwei’s brows had furrowed the moment the woman’s stare locked on Nanxi. 

Now, seeing the proprietress gaze so openly, her displeasure grew evident.

She shifted slightly, intentionally positioning herself somewhat in front of Nanxi, and took over the conversation.

“The proprietress has sharp eyes. My younger brother is indeed here for the first time. Just now, I was asking—what exactly are these eight treasures?”

Only then did the purple-haired woman seem to notice Zhang Yiwei. 

Her gaze finally shifted from Nanxi, turning to her with an unchanged smile.

“A fine question, miss. The eight treasures vary slightly with the season. Today’s selection includes jade belt soup, lotus blossom fish slices, red-braised mountain boar, eight-treasure duck, emerald shrimp, fire-cured ham, clear-stewed crabmeat lion’s head, and for dessert, golden thread date paste cake.”

Worthy of a restaurant owner—her recitation of dishes was impressive.

“Though they’re just simple fare, nothing particularly rare.”

As she spoke, her gaze drifted back to Nanxi, this time settling on his hand holding the teacup.

“This young master’s hands are truly beautiful.”

She said suddenly, her tone carrying a subtle, almost imperceptible longing.

“Clear joints, slender fingers, nails neatly trimmed. Clearly the hands of one who reads, writes, or practices refined arts.”

The words sounded ordinary, but paired with her gaze, they carried an indefinable undertone.

Nanxi showed little reaction. 

He simply set down the teacup, withdrew his hand beneath the table, and placed it on his knee.

He did not like the woman’s stare, though he could hardly say so outright.

Zhang Yiwei’s expression had grown colder. She sipped her tea and spoke icily.

“The proprietress is quite attentive, but we can order for ourselves. No need to trouble you so.”

The dismissal was clear.

Yet the purple-haired woman seemed not to hear it. She smiled faintly and, to their surprise, sat down on the empty stool beside them.

“Don’t mind me, miss. I can’t help speaking more when I meet guests who catch my eye.”

Her tone was light as her gaze turned back to Nanxi, now tinged with curiosity.

“At this young master’s age, he’s still growing. What does he usually like to eat? We’ve recently tried a new dish—pearl glutinous balls, finely minced fresh river shrimp and chicken wrapped in glutinous rice and steamed. Soft, chewy, fresh, and sweet. It should suit your taste. Care to try?”

As she spoke, she leaned forward slightly. A unique, rich fragrance wafted over—not unpleasant, yet somehow unsettling.

Nanxi did not want her too close. 

For the first time, he reacted more noticeably. 

He raised his eyes to the overly enthusiastic proprietress, his voice flat as water.

“Anything is fine.”

Just those four words, nothing more.

A response as plain as water, yet the purple-haired woman seemed to find it amusing. 

The smile in her eyes deepened.

“Anything? That makes it difficult. How about this—I’ll have the kitchen prepare small portions of today’s signatures and send them up for the young master to sample. Order whichever you like. How’s that?”

This had already overstepped a proprietress’s role.

Zhang Yiwei’s patience finally snapped. She set down her teacup with a deliberate clink against the wood.

“Proprietress, this is rather improper.”

Only then did the purple-haired woman seem to realize her behavior had crossed a line. She rose with a light laugh.

“Look at me—chattering away the moment I see a handsome young master. Forgive me, miss. I’ll take my leave.”

Yet even after speaking, she did not depart. She glanced at the boy once more, her gaze deepening.

“If the young master finds it to his taste, do come often.”

With that, she picked up the purple-sand teapot and turned toward the stairs.

Only after that red figure vanished around the corner did Zhang Yiwei’s expression soften slightly.

The waiter, who had been holding his breath, cautiously stepped forward.

“May I take your…”

Zhang Yiwei’s face remained stern. 

She stared at the stairwell, eyes flashing with resentment. 

That proprietress had thoroughly ruined her mood today.

“Bring the best items on your menu—four meat dishes, two vegetables, one soup, and a dessert. As quickly as possible.”

Her voice was cold; she had lost all interest in inquiring about the eight treasures.

The waiter hurriedly agreed and retreated swiftly.

As for Nanxi, he had sat quietly throughout, unconcerned with the proprietress.

After this meal, the boy only wanted a good sleep to ease the day’s physical exhaustion.