Chapter 1
My employers were the Fu family, the richest household in the capital.
They came with the standard domineering-CEO-romance package: an obsessive, coldhearted CEO; a melancholy wife; a scheming first love; and a neglected young heiress with chronic stomach trouble.
On my first day, my mother taught me the housekeeper’s three rules:
“Obey without question.”
“Every visitor is a guest.”
“Always see what needs doing.”
I took them to heart.
So when the CEO’s first love arrived to see him, dainty purse on her arm and dainty heels on her feet, I kept a close eye on her.
Sure enough, the moment Madam appeared—before she had even come near—the woman’s ankle suddenly buckled beneath her.
I dashed forward in a baseball slide and shoved a soft goose-down mattress under her.
“Brother Bo, my stomach…”
Sprawled on the mattress, the first love clutched her stomach in agony, then froze.
“It doesn’t hurt at all.”
The CEO gave me an approving nod, bent down, and took her hand.
“If you’re fine, let’s go.”
“I’m taking you to see Grandmother today.”
As he spoke, the corner of his eye swept over Madam.
The first love smiled lightly. “Isn’t she coming too? It wouldn’t feel right if I went alone.”
The CEO smiled with her. “Someone so unpleasant would only ruin the mood.”
Then he linked arms with his first love and walked away without looking back.
They had long since vanished from sight, yet Madam still stood rooted to the spot.
My mother had told me the CEO had never liked his wife.
His first love had gone abroad. Madam had been maneuvered into spending a night with him and became pregnant with their daughter. She fled the country while pregnant, and he chased her across borders to win her back.
But once she gave birth, he stopped cherishing her.
After his first love came home, things only got worse.
“Madam is kindhearted,” my mother had said with a sigh. “And pitiful.”
I watched the cold wind buffet Madam. Her slender body, wrapped in a long white dress, looked like a butterfly with broken wings, tossed helplessly in a storm.
My heart ached. I hurried over and draped a wool coat around her shoulders.
“Come have breakfast, Madam.”
She gave me a gentle smile, shook her head, and turned toward the stairs.
“I made soup dumplings with savory sauce, hand-pulled fried dough sticks, braised-beef noodles…”
Madam stopped.
A responsible housekeeper’s first duty was to know her employer’s tastes.
Back when Madam had been a carefree, innocent girl, breakfast meant a steaming basket of sauce-filled soup dumplings from a street stall and a bowl of vegetable congee.
Or chewy fried dough sticks from the woman outside her school, dipped in instant soy milk so that the flavors of bean and crisp dough burst together in every bite.
Or a fresh bowl of beef noodles, fragrant with chopped scallions.
Breakfast in the CEO’s house, on the other hand, was always tea cakes, milk, and bread.
Elegant, but lifeless.
Madam sat down and took one bite of a soup dumpling. Her lovely eyes curved with satisfaction.
“Mrs. Wang, you’re an amazing cook.”
She drank several mouthfuls of congee, tears suddenly glimmering at the corners of her eyes.
“It’s truly delicious. I haven’t eaten food like this in so long.”