7 Choosing Personnel

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As Madam Li was about to leave the manor, Lin Yunchang, the steward who had been assigned to patrol the shops outside every day, finally returned. He made a special visit to Lin Yun’s Xiying Pavilion and informed her that all the servants in her courtyard would be replaced, and that the next day, the guild would send a batch of new maidservants for her to inspect.

Lin Yun nodded in understanding and, before the steward left, requested, “Send over a few capable footmen today.”

The steward agreed and inquired further, “What specific tasks do you need done? I can assign the right people.”

Lin Yun lifted her eyelids lazily and said bluntly, “Dismantle the bed.”

As the steward led several skillful and strong footmen to carefully dismantle the exquisitely crafted and lavishly decorated Canopy Bed piece by piece, he remained somewhat bewildered.

How many ladies in the inner chambers had dreamt of such a Canopy Bed, yet the Second Miss wanted to tear it apart?

Meanwhile, Lin Yun moved a chair and sat by the side, acting like an overseer, watching intently as the sections of wood were carried away, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction—

This Canopy Bed could no longer confine her.

Once the bed was taken apart, an elegant three-panel folding screen Luohan Bed was brought out from the storeroom and placed in its stead. The back, left, and right panels each bore cloud-patterned floral carvings—simple yet refined.

The steward had initially intended to deliver a frame bed, but Lin Yun, upon seeing it was also a bed with posts and a canopy, immediately requested a replacement. Now, lying on the Luohan Bed, with an open view all around, it suited her preferences perfectly.

Qingchan, noticing the Second Miss’s strange behavior of exchanging a rare fine bed for an ordinary one and feeling surprisingly pleased, approached despite not fully understanding.

Qingchan bent her knees and knelt by Lin Yun’s skirt, tears welling in her eyes as she pleaded, “Second Miss, I never got involved in Red Swallow’s affairs. I have served you diligently, perhaps without great merit, but with effort. The steward said they will sell us all back to the guild tomorrow. Please have mercy and keep me.”

Though the Second Miss was peculiar, she was not harsh with her servants. In fact, she generally held no emotional attachments to them, often acting as if they did not exist.

Many masters outside were known to beat and scold their servants behind closed doors, flaunting wealth and power openly. The Ningyuan Marquis’s manor paid well, and if possible, Qingchan did not wish to leave.

Besides, she was not Red Swallow’s ally or the concubine’s servant; this fire need not burn her.

Lin Yun looked into Qingchan’s tearful eyes but felt no stirrings in her heart. After all, those eyes usually darted around restlessly; now, the tears seemed merely a show, lacking genuine feeling.

Qingchan was clever. Even if she left this place, she had prospects elsewhere. Lin Yun, however, had little fondness for such “smart” people.

She rejected her without remorse, bluntly stating, “You may not have done what Red Swallow did, but you knew what was happening and did nothing.”

If Qingchan had been unaware of the poisoning, she would not have deliberately avoided the room when Red Swallow was about to burn incense.

Whenever Madam Li’s affairs succeeded, Qingchan benefited; when they failed, she quickly attached herself to Lin Yun.

Lin Yun truly disliked this kind of “smart” person.

She had lived eight lifetimes; even a fool could see clearly through the people in this house.

Precisely because she saw clearly, Lin Yun refused to keep a single one of them—there was no good person here. She instructed the steward to handle the servants according to their offenses. Not driving them out or worse was already an act of great kindness.

Her words were explicit. Qingchan understood there was no turning back and saved her tears, wiping her face and standing silently behind Lin Yun, already pondering other prospects.

Lin Yun paid no mind to these matters. Lying on the new bed, she felt immensely joyful, as if everything was just right.

This Luohan Bed was wider than a small couch; she could turn over twice without falling off.

Elevated from the ground, with partial enclosures on three sides, it was warmer but lacked the stifling canopy of the Canopy Bed.

“This really is a fine bed,” Lin Yun murmured in her sleep.

***

The following morning, Lin Yun ordered dishes she had longed to taste but never had the chance to eat before: silky noodles, dried meat slices, three-mixed vegetables, and spiced cakes.

Previously, Lin Yun had little appetite and often forgot to eat while engrossed in the laboratory.

But after arriving in Great Zhou, she realized that choosing not to eat and being unable to eat were vastly different experiences. After enduring repeated hunger recently, she became keenly attached to mealtimes, feeling uneasy if she missed them.

Whether this change was temporary or lifelong remained uncertain, but it had yet to trouble her greatly.

The requested dishes were promptly served, and Lin Yun savored them with satisfaction, exclaiming, “Delicious.”

The silky noodles were broad and thin, topped with dried bamboo shoots, pickled cucumbers, ginger, and preserved chives, creating a myriad of flavors. Lin Yun dipped the somewhat dry dried meat slices into the noodle broth to soften them and ate them together.

When she grew weary of the noodles, she picked a few bites of the three-mixed vegetable dish, a refreshing vegetarian medley that cleansed the palate.

With this combination, Lin Yun finished both soup and noodles with meat, then reached for the spiced cakes.

Made from glutinous and japonica rice, the cakes were soft and sticky, sweet with a hint of minty coolness. Having eaten her fill, Lin Yun no longer hurried to fill her stomach but savored the layers of spices.

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Beyond the mint, there was a faint anise aroma and a subtle ginseng note; beyond that, she could not discern any other flavors. The unusual combination of ingredients surprisingly did not clash.

As Lin Yun set down her chopsticks, Madam Yuan handed her a handkerchief, which she accepted gratefully to wipe her mouth.

That morning, all the maids and servants in Xiying Pavilion were sent away, leaving Lin Yun and Madam Yuan waiting for the guild to deliver new recruits.

Lin Yun said, “Madam, I will pick two maidservants to serve me directly; you can manage the others in the courtyard.”

It was not that Lin Yun wished to shirk responsibility but that Madam Yuan, being more experienced and perceptive, was better suited for the task.

Lin Yun had spent most of her time in the laboratory, with little social inclination; she had met fewer people than plants. At times like this, there was no need to force herself.

Soon, the guild mistress arrived at Lin Yun’s courtyard with nearly thirty people, ready to distribute them for Lin Yun and Madam Yuan’s inspection.

They were to select nine servants: two personal maidservants, two general maids, one seamstress, one cook, and for the outer area, two footmen and one gatekeeper.

The steward originally wanted Lin Yun to pick ten, but she negotiated for more funds, not only for carriage drivers but also to run errands.

Madam Yuan advised Lin Yun to pay close attention to how she chose her servants and learn from it, so that she could make decisions herself in the future.

Those sent by the guild to Ningyuan Marquis’s manor were already among the best servants, yet Madam Yuan still scrutinized them carefully.

Lin Yun watched with curiosity as Madam Yuan required the servants to smile, showing their teeth; a few with poor dental health were immediately eliminated.

Those with displeasing facial features, who made one uncomfortable to look at, were the second to be dismissed. Madam Yuan explained, “One’s appearance reflects the heart. After seeing many people, you’ll find this to be true.”

The remaining candidates all had average and decent appearances. Madam Yuan then instructed the guild mistress, “If any come from families with gambling problems, exclude them.”

The guild mistress was exasperated, explaining, “Among those sold as slaves or servants, half have fathers or husbands who are gamblers. If you exclude all of them, there won’t be many left.”

Madam Yuan was adamant, “If you don’t exclude them, take them all back. If you do, don’t try to hide it from us. Gambling problems cannot be concealed, and if discovered later, we’ll come to you.”

The guild mistress looked troubled but eventually weeded out a small portion. She sent one rejected candidate back to the guild and brought over about ten more, as otherwise, there would be no way to pick nine suitable ones.

“Families with gambling issues are more prone to trouble. It’s not that the family members are bad, but when a servant’s contract lies with the master, their heart remains at home. If the man cries desperately that he’ll die without repayment, it’s easy for the children, wives, or mothers in the master’s house to sneak around.”

Lin Yun nodded in agreement, impressed by Madam Yuan’s words. Having just met her yesterday, she had thought her taciturn; now hearing her speak fluently, she realized Madam Yuan was a master of speech.

She only spoke when necessary, which in itself was an art.

With fewer candidates left, Madam Yuan questioned each one further, eliminating those with unclear speech, hesitant answers, or evasive eyes.

Lin Yun watched in admiration; if Madam Yuan existed in modern times, she would make an excellent HR specialist.

Madam Yuan brought five girls aged fourteen or fifteen before Lin Yun. They had been pre-screened and were all quite capable. Choosing two was entirely Lin Yun’s decision.

At twenty-something mentally, Lin Yun felt a pang of guilt, thinking she was essentially recruiting child labor.

But such was the world of Great Zhou; she quickly considered her needs for maidservants.

She asked all five if they knew how to style hair and coordinate clothing; they all said yes.

As for sewing, Madam Yuan would pick a dedicated maid for that.

Thus, all five were qualified; the choice came down to personal affinity.

Lin Yun quickly memorized two faces among them—

One was especially beautiful; the other had the roundest face.

The beautiful girl wore dull gray clothes with no jewelry, her hair tied in a simple maid’s bun with two gray-blue ribbons.

She seemed nervous, her large eyes fluttering anxiously, making others uneasy alongside her.

Round-faced girls were rare among servants, as many barely had enough to eat. This one kept smiling—a contagious smile—and when approached, carried a faint scent of pastries.

Lin Yun stepped before the round-faced girl, asking expectantly, “Do you have any special skills?”

When the girl answered that she was good at making small pastries and snacks, Lin Yun was pleased and about to say, “You’re chosen,” but then another girl beside her said, “Miss, I can do that too.”

Now Lin Yun found herself in a dilemma.

“Miss, my ancestors were imperial chefs and left many secret recipes. I can make them for you someday,” said the round-faced girl with a smile.

A lie. Her ancestors were butchers, and the pastry scent on her was from being sent by the master to sleep overnight at the pastry shop yesterday.

She had no ancestral recipes; all the knowledge was gathered and handed to her by Yan Ming the day before.

Only she knew how to cook.

With that, the round-faced girl became indispensable and was the first chosen maid.

Since one maid could make pastries, and the other four lacked outstanding skills, Lin Yun decisively picked the prettiest girl next.

As Lin Yun named the beautiful girl, her eyes immediately reddened, and she stood behind Lin Yun as if afraid she would change her mind.

Shen Ruyi fought back tears, overwhelmed with joy. She was too striking in appearance to serve in households with poor reputations. She had secretly given money to the guild mistress to be placed in a respectable family.

She dared not become a concubine’s maid or be assigned to the young master. She always missed selection for the young lady’s maids.

Madam Yuan, seeing Lin Yun’s choices, did not argue but was somewhat surprised.

She had seen many ladies of noble birth but rarely one who wished to keep a beautiful maid by her side.

Since Lin Yun herself was good-looking, there was no risk of falling into disgrace. For an average-looking lady, having a gorgeous maid could blur distinctions, making it hard for outsiders to tell who was the mistress or the maid.

Lin Yun was quite satisfied with her selection; the two maidservants perfectly embodied a famous saying.

Mencius once said, “Food and beauty are natural desires.” Lin Yun’s two maids—one skilled in cooking, the other beautiful to look at—brought her joy just by their presence.

While Madam Yuan continued sorting the rest, Lin Yun chatted softly with her two maids.

She was not difficult to get along with; previously ignoring Qingchan and Red Swallow was mainly because no one could joke with those who had harmed her.

“What are your names?”

Shen Ruyi said, “Our former names no longer count. Please, Miss, give us new ones.”

This was the usual maid procedure; regardless of previous names, the mistress named them as she pleased.

The round-faced maid quickly followed, “Please, Miss, name me.”

She bore no emotional burden; previously, in Lord Xie’s secret guard camp, she was known as Twelve—a mere code rather than a name.

Lin Yun, however, did not intend to rename them, letting them keep their original names.

To a modern person, nicknames were acceptable, but renaming could feel insulting.

Under Lin Yun’s insistence, the beautiful maid said her name was Ruyi, but the round-faced maid hesitated.

Sensing Lin Yun’s urging gaze, Twelve suddenly brightened, “I’m called Shi’er—‘Shi’ from time, and ‘er’ from the phrase ‘To ascend high, one must start low; to travel far, one must start near.’”

That sounded like a proper name.

The phrase “To ascend high, one must start low; to travel far, one must start near” was taught by the scholar at the secret guard camp and happened to be fitting.

Ruyi gasped, “Shi’er, you’re amazing; you can read and recite poetry.”

Shi’er felt uneasy, fearing exposure, and added, “My father had a scholar pick this name. I only know this one phrase.”

Fortunately, Lin Yun did not mind and thought their names were lovely. Luckily, she had not given them new ones; her literary skills might not have produced better names.

As they grew more familiar, Lin Yun found these two maids quite different from their initial impressions.

Ruyi was not timid or weak; she was lively and talkative and loved beauty. Her dull attire was a façade to appear like a servant.

Shi’er rarely smiled, wore a stern face, and spoke deliberately, as if seldom speaking before—a stark contrast to her eloquence when recommending recipes.

Lin Yun did not mind.

After all, who doesn't put on a performance during an interview?

When she applied for her doctorate, she even claimed her ideal was to do research.

She lied to please her supervisor—she did not believe it herself!