The Swapped Heir Came Home Hungry novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: The Pavilion Court

Anzhi sets terms with the cold acting head, overhears a line through the moon gate, and finds Madam Su's printed rules would have him toast the wrong man.

The Pavilion Court had a pomegranate tree, a stone table, and a bed with a carved canopy that cost more than the Wei feed store.

Anzhi put his duffel on the bed and then took it off again, in case the canopy minded.

"The Little Master's room," said the butler, bowing from the door. "Madam Su chose it. There is a moon gate on the north wall."

"Where does it go?"

"To the Lakeside Court," said the butler. "Master Lin's."

"Why would she put me next to him?"

"Because no one else would be as hard to bribe," said the butler, and straightened his face at once.

"Dinner is at seven in the dining hall. A tray is coming now."

The tray was rice, braised pork, and a plate of greens.

Anzhi ate all of it, and the rice in the lid.

Then he stacked the bowls neatly, because that was how you did it at home.

A maid came in with a single printed page.

"From Madam Su, Little Master. The order of tonight's welcome dinner. She says to learn it by heart."

She bowed and left.

The sheet had eight rules in a tidy typeface.

Rule four said: When the family sits, the returning son rises first and offers the first cup to Second Uncle, who has kept the house.

Anzhi read it twice and looked at the pomegranate tree.

Then he heard a step on the gravel, and Linchuan was in the doorway.

He had left his jacket somewhere. His sleeves were rolled to the elbow and he looked younger than he had in the courtyard.

"Grandfather has ordered me to teach you the house," he said. "I disagree with this, but I have been ordered. You will keep my hours."

"Which are what?" asked Anzhi.

"I rise at five."

"I rise at five too. The corn comes at five."

Linchuan looked at him with something close to annoyance.

"Then we agree on one thing. Here are the conditions," said Linchuan.

"Each day I give you one rule of the house. You obey it exactly, in front of anyone, however stupid it seems."

"Fine. Here are mine." Anzhi counted on his fingers. "One. You eat dinner with me every night. Here, at this table."

"I do not eat with people."

Anzhi shrugged. "The butler said you don't eat dinner at all."

"The butler talks too much."

"A man who doesn't eat isn't well, and a teacher who isn't well can't teach," said Anzhi.

"Sons eat at the table, Cousin Lin. You're teaching me to be a son."

The glasses came off. Linchuan pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Agreed," he said. "What else?"

"Two. On day thirty, if I want to walk away, I walk. The loan on the store is paid, no questions, no card, no speech."

"That is what Madam Su already offered," said Linchuan.

"She offered it to make me leave. I'm asking for it in case I want to."

For a moment Linchuan said nothing at all.

"Agreed," he said, more quietly. "Rule one, then."

"In this house the master of the table lifts his chopsticks first. No one else touches a dish before then. Tonight, that is Grandfather."

"I can do that," said Anzhi.

"You will be hungry."

"I'm always hungry," said Anzhi. "Wait until you see what that looks like when it's useful."

Linchuan left without answering.

Anzhi sat down at the stone table and, for the first time since the car, let his shoulders drop.

The moon gate was open a hand's width.

On the other side, on the gravel path of the Lakeside Court, two voices were talking, and one was the butler's.

"He ate the buns in front of the staff, Master," said the butler. "He gave me one."

"Don't get fond of him."

"He is the first one in this house in twenty years to ask me if I was hungry."

"In thirty days he will be gone, one way or another," said Linchuan. "Do not learn his name, Butler."

There was a pause.

"I am afraid it is too late for that, Master," said the butler.

The footsteps went away.

Anzhi sat very still, with the printed sheet in his hand.

One way or another.

He did not know which way Linchuan meant, and he did not like not knowing.

At dusk, because he did not know where else to be, he went out and followed the smell of incense to the big dining hall.

The doors stood open.

The long table was bare, with fourteen chairs along the sides and one great carved chair at the head.

At the foot, by the kitchen door, stood a small stool with no cushion.

The butler was alone at the far end, beside a plain chair on the head's left.

He held a thimble-sized cup, no bigger than a thumb, and a little pot of tea.

He poured the tea carefully into the cup, and set it down in front of the empty chair, and bowed.

Then he stood for a moment with his eyes shut.

"Whose chair is that?" said Anzhi from the door.

The old man's back went rigid. He did not turn.

"The late master's, Little Master. He sat there every night for thirty years. Every dusk I pour his first cup."

"Does anyone remember to?"

"Nobody sees me do it," said the butler, "and Madam Su does not ask."

Anzhi looked at the empty chair.

It was the chair at the head's left, where the heir would sit.

Whoever he was, his father had been in it a long time.

He took the printed sheet out of his pocket and read rule four again.

The returning son offers the first cup to Second Uncle.

Then he looked at the thimble of tea.

"Uncle," he said. "Who gets the first cup at a Jiang table, really?"

The old man turned around.

His eyes were wet, and he looked for a long moment at the page in Anzhi's hand.

"The master of the house, and then the eldest seat, and before them all," said the butler, slowly, "the one who is not there to sit."

"That is the old rule, Little Master. It is not on any sheet."

Anzhi folded the page into four and put it in his pocket.

He did not say who had written it.

He did not say he was going to follow the old rule.

He only said, "What time do I bow?"

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