Chapter 2: Chapter 2 — Servant

Fang Han’s duties in the Fang household were straightforward: care for horses. He was specifically assigned to tend the family’s prized steed, Thousand-Li Snow.

Tending horses was grueling work—rising in the dead of night to add forage, mixing feed, and following countless rules, especially when the animal in your care was a famous mount. Normally at this hour Fang Han should have been preparing soymilk for Thousand-Li Snow—beating eggs and soybeans into a fine mash, adding other special feeds—then taking the horse for a walk in the paddock so it could digest before the Second Young Miss arrived.

But after this morning’s secret viewing of the inner residence’s martial practice—listening to Fang Tong, the “Giant Spirit Hand,” explain the mysteries of the Flesh Realm and the Divine Ability Realm—he’d been completely distracted and had neglected his most important duty.

Unsurprisingly, when Fang Han rushed to the paddock he found Thousand-Li Snow already mounted—ridden by a woman of cold, noble bearing.

Servants stood nearby, guards posed with intimidating authority, and several youths rode alongside—each radiating a faint aura that showed they were not without cultivation.

“Fang Han, you’ve committed an unforgivable offense! Kneel and apologize to the Second Young Miss this instant!”
an old overseer barked as soon as he saw Fang Han.

“I—this morning I had stomach trouble,”
Fang Han stammered.

The old man was the head groom of the Fang stables.

“I don’t care what excuse you give. You delayed the Second Young Miss—that is a monstrous offense. Didn’t your father teach you how to be a servant? Haven’t you learned that a master’s affairs come before everything?”
the overseer scolded.

“Are you the one who tends Thousand-Li Snow? The Second Young Miss wants to question you.”

A maid with high, arrogant brows strode over and snapped at Fang Han. In a single motion she spread her five fingers like an eagle seizing a rabbit and grabbed his shoulder.

Fang Han felt bound as if tied; the maid hoisted him up without effort.

That move—Crane’s Claw in Sand. The maid’s strength was two or three times his own. Fang Han recognized the technique from the tricks he’d been secretly learning, but he could not avoid it. Though a month of stealthy observation had opened his understanding, he lacked the practice to match a maid trained to protect a noble lady.

And even if he could evade her, he dared not try. The consequences would be immediate and grave.

Thud.

He was thrown to the ground; his body tingled with pain.

“Kneel properly and answer!”
the maid barked and kicked him.

“Are you Fang Han?”
The voice came from Thousand-Li Snow—pure white, magnificent—high and cold.

“Yes—I am Fang Han,”
he replied, head bowed, teeth clenched against the pain.

He knew the Second Young Miss was Fang Qingwei—a woman of formidable temperament. As a servant, any slip that displeased her could have a dreadful outcome.

“You’ve kept Thousand-Li Snow well; I can see you care for the horse. But this morning you were negligent.”
Fang Qingwei’s voice was frosty. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. A servant must always put the master first. That’s the rule of our household—and the rule for servants everywhere. That horse is your life. If it dies, you die with it. Understand?”

“Yes—yes, I understand. From now on I will risk my life to care for your horse. If the horse lives, I live; if it dies, I die. Second Young Miss, please spare me this time.”
Fang Han beat his head on the ground in earnest repentance—this was the proper way for a groom to beg mercy.

While he kowtowed, his eyes slid to the Second Young Miss’s boot, planted on the stirrup.

Her boots were pure white, inlaid with jade—exquisite and elegant. Gazing at that high, lofty boot, Fang Han thought to himself that one day he would like nothing more than for someone to look up at his boots the way he looked up at hers.

“Ten lashes,”
she said coolly. “Let this be a lesson.”

“Yes!”
The maid produced a riding crop and struck.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Fang Han’s body convulsed with each blow. The maid wielded the crop with tremendous force; each strike whistled through the air and slammed into him, as if trying to strip his bones apart. He bit down and endured, sweat and blood mingling on his skin.

After the tenth lash he could hardly stand.

“Thank you, Second Young Miss, for the punishment!”
Fang Han wheezed—servants always offered this line after a beating; failing to say so was taken as disrespect and could invite worse fate than the lashes.

“Good.”
Fang Qingwei nodded with satisfaction from her mount. “I reward and punish clearly. You were negligent—so you are punished. But you’ve tended Thousand-Li Snow conscientiously and have not skimmed the horse’s rations for yourself, so I will also reward you.” A silver ingot glinted and dropped from the saddle, landing before Fang Han.

The ingot bore a finely cast flame motif and the characters marking it as five liang—imperial silver of the Great Li Dynasty.

Five liang equaled roughly a year’s income for Fang Han—a substantial reward.

Horses in the Fang household ate better than many people. They were given eggs and soymilk every day, and many grooms would secretly skim the horse’s feed to eat themselves; but Fang Han had never done that. Fang Qingwei’s reward showed she’d noticed.

“Remember this: servants are punished when they err and rewarded when they do well. If you are loyal and serve the master single-heartedly, you will benefit.”
She tossed the reward aside and said to her companions, “Let us go—we mustn’t miss the hunting hour.”

“Second Young Miss runs the household well,”
one youth exclaimed approvingly after watching her deal with Fang Han.

“With a big household and many people, rules are necessary,”
Fang Qingwei replied coldly and imperiously. “I practice both mercy and severity. The skill is in balancing them.”

With that, she and her retinue rode off like a coiling dragon.

“Ah, Fang Han, you got lucky—ten lashes but five liang. Worth it!”
one of the stablehands joked.

“Yep—ten lashes for five liang? I’d take that.”
Another laughed.

“Who wouldn’t?”
someone else chimed in.

“Fang Han, you’re rich now—buy us a meal.”
After the retinue departed, the stablehands crowded around Fang Han, eyes fixed on the silver.

“Lucky this time. Next time they might kill you and bury you grandly,”
one said, and Fang Han forced a bitter smile.

“I’ll treat for sure—just give me time to heal these wounds,”
he groaned, contorting in pain as he limped away from the group.

Back in his modest room, the sting of the lashes dulled a little. He turned the five liang over in his hand and thought of the household’s rules: using punishment and reward was a deliberate method. First, it showed the mistress was fair; second, it showed she saw through everything; third, striking and then rewarding kept servants from harboring resentment and fostered loyalty.

Still, Fang Han had long been weary of life as a servant.

His father had secretly taught him this saying: “Better to be a beggar than to live as another’s slave.”