DLMSWSHH Chapter 3

TL: Hua

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Chapter 3: Task

The woman’s shrill voice echoed through the corridor.

Zhong Ming was stunned into silence, unable to process what was happening.

Behind him, several suppressed coughs broke the silence. Li Yizhi was clearly struggling to contain his laughter, trying to mask it with a cough, but in the end, a “pfft” escaped him anyway.

A few steps away, Matthew, standing behind Madam Mary, lowered his head and pressed his fist against his mouth, his shoulders trembling slightly.

“I… I’m not wearing any makeup.” Zhong Ming stammered as he explained. His lips moved slightly, their rosy color standing out vividly under the light.

The woman’s brow furrowed deeper. She pulled out a handkerchief and rubbed his lips forcefully, nearly chafing the skin. Only after seeing that the cloth remained clean did she grudgingly believe that Zhong Ming truly wasn’t wearing makeup.

Even though she had clearly wronged him, her expression grew even uglier. She let go with a cold snort.

Three red scratch marks had been left on Zhong Ming’s chin; he reached up to touch them, wincing in pain. Madam Mary’s icy gaze fell upon him, her face drawn long like a withered orange.

Matthew stepped forward and gave Zhong Ming a meaningful look. “You go to the very back of the line.”

The woman’s stare sent cold sweat down Zhong Ming’s back. He obediently walked to the last spot in the row, lowering his head to hide behind Archie.

Madam Mary seemed to relax slightly then. With another cold snort, her pointed leather shoes clicked twice against the floor as she walked ahead.

Matthew gave a light cough to signal the end of the farce and addressed the menservants: “Everyone, follow.”

The menservants formed two rows and followed them out of the corridor.

Zhong Ming kept his head down, trailing at the very end of the line. After an unknown amount of time, a beam of light hit his face. He looked up and was instantly startled by the sight before him.

They were standing in a grand hall with a ceiling so high it looked like the sky. Massive, magnificent chandeliers shimmered with light, and the staircases wound upward in tiers that seemed to have no end. Beneath their feet lay a thick carpet; several vases were placed around the perimeter, and the air was filled with the rich, fragrant scent of roses.

Zhong Ming stared at everything in a daze, feeling as though they were a pack of rats that had crawled out of a sewer, wandering aimlessly through a vast mansion.

“Stunned, aren’t you?”

Li Yizhi’s voice sounded in his ear. Zhong Ming snapped out of it and hurriedly lowered his head. Fortunately, Madam Mary was talking to Matthew and didn’t notice.

“Don’t be too nervous,” Li Yizhi said, leaning down to whisper as he noticed Zhong Ming’s stiff movements. “Madam Mary used to be a nun in a convent. She’s quite old-fashioned… and has a bit of a prejudice against people who look a little too enchanting.”

Hearing this, Zhong Ming unconsciously pursed his lips, feeling a slight discomfort at the word “enchanting.” He felt he simply had a healthy complexion.

Li Yizhi comforted him: “Don’t worry, it’s not a big deal.” He continued, “It’s just that you probably won’t be assigned any good work today.”

Zhong Ming’s heart sank. Having annoyed his superior on his very first day, he feared this new job was already doomed.

Perhaps sensing his worry, Li Yizhi curled his lips and lowered his head further: “But it doesn’t matter… if there’s work you can’t handle, I can help you. As long as you call me big brother—”

Before he could finish, Matthew’s voice came from the front of the line: “Newcomer.”

Called upon, Zhong Ming quickly stepped forward, peeking out from behind Archie. Matthew’s emerald-green eyes looked at him and said, “You are responsible for cleaning the steps today.”

It sounded like an ordinary task. Zhong Ming nodded.

However, a heavy, ragged breath suddenly sounded in his ear, growing louder by the second: “…What?”

Zhong Ming turned to look. Jack had stepped out of the line, his brutish face flushed red and his bear-like body heaving with rage. He glared at Matthew: “Why does he get the indoor work? We all had to start from the outside—”

His outburst was cut short halfway by a silencing gesture from Matthew.

“Enough nonsense.” Matthew’s emerald eyes were like inorganic gemstones. “You are in no position to question our decisions.”

Once again, a strong sense of pressure faintly emanated from him. Jack shut his mouth abruptly and instinctively took a step back. His expression then shifted to one of annoyance, as if he were angry at his own show of cowardice.

Zhong Ming saw fear in Jack. It was strange. Matthew hadn’t actually said anything particularly harsh, and his posture wasn’t aggressive, yet fear bled through Jack’s poorly concealed expression.

What exactly were these people afraid of? Zhong Ming couldn’t understand it.

Matthew dismissed Jack with a casual wave and looked away to continue assigning tasks to the next manservant. Jack stood in place for a moment, suppressing his rage, and walked back to the line begrudgingly. He shot a sharp, vicious glance back at Zhong Ming.

Well, it was all being blamed on him now.

Zhong Ming felt a bit helpless. On his first day, he’d managed to anger his boss, been forced to take sides, and made an enemy of a colleague. Just wonderful.

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The menservants took their assignments and dispersed. Zhong Ming gathered a bucket and a rag and knelt to scrub the steps. The stairs were carved from solid blocks of marble with smooth surfaces that were relatively easy to wipe. He wondered why they weren’t carpeted; as he knelt, the cold temperature seeped through the fabric of his trousers, making his knees ache.

The master of this house doesn’t mind the hardness underfoot, Zhong Ming grumbled to himself.

After scrubbing for a while, his back began to ache. He looked up and saw a massive portrait hanging on the wall in the middle of the staircase.

The cool-toned canvas depicted a young boy with brown hair and blue eyes, his delicate face resembling a little prince from a fairy tale. He wore a suit vest, his face set in a cold, indifferent expression that blended perfectly with the black background.

In the darkness behind him stood a faint, indistinct figure, forming a sharp contrast with the clearly defined young master. Only one hand of that figure was painted, resting on the boy’s shoulder, with an emerald ring on its thumb.

Common sense suggested this should be a portrait of the master’s family.

However, Zhong Ming inexplicably sensed something ominous in the painting, specifically, that patch of darkness behind the young master. If he stared at it for too long, he felt the illusion that he might be sucked into it.

The more he looked, the unluckier it felt.

Zhong Ming lowered his eyes, took his rag, and went back to scrubbing the steps.

He wiped the white rag from left to right; when he lifted it, the fabric was covered in brownish stains. Looking at the marks, Zhong Ming frowned. These black marble steps looked clean at a glance, but they were filthy once wiped.

He put the handkerchief into the bucket and gave it a few scrubs. The brown stains vanished, and a faint red color bled into the water.

Seeing the red, Zhong Ming’s nose caught a faint, sweet, metallic scent. He suddenly realized something, and his hand gave a small tremor.

This wasn’t just ordinary dirt; it was blood.

Whose blood is this? Zhong Ming’s heart shook.

Just then, the sound of soles treading on marble approached. Zhong Ming looked up, but before he could see who it was, someone kicked the bucket over.

With a bang, the bloody water splashed out and flowed down the stairs, meeting no resistance and ruining all of Zhong Ming’s hard work from the morning.

First “Jane Eyre” this morning, then “The Great Gatsby” just now, and now we’re doing “Cinderella”?

This horror game is certainly interesting, Zhong Ming thought as he kept his head down. The next instant, he was hoisted up by his shoulders with great force and met a pair of cold eyes.

It was Jack. Forced to look him in the eye, Zhong Ming realized this Caucasian man had very coarse features and stood well over 1.9 meters tall, looming like a mountain in front of him.

“My bad, didn’t see you there.”

Jack curled his lip into a smirk. He pulled him up to a standing position and reached down, patting the area of Zhong Ming’s trousers that had been soaked by the bloody water.

“Your pants are wet.”

He acted as if he were deeply concerned for Zhong Ming’s well-being, his gaze scanning upward inch by inch from his legs to his waist, finally stopping on his face. The scarred corner of his mouth moved: “Take them off. Shall I wash them for you?”

A sneer rang out. Zhong Ming looked over to see the brown-haired manservant named Joe laughing hysterically. When Joe saw him looking, he restrained himself slightly, but his eyes were filled with naked contempt. He looked at him as if looking at a chicken that had fallen into a tiger’s mouth.

“…No need.”

Zhong Ming lowered his head to avoid their gaze.

Even his voice of refusal was so small, his posture weak and easily bullied. Though they wore identical uniforms, his waist was strikingly narrow, looking as if it could be held in a single hand. He kept his eyes downcast and said, “I’ll wash them myself later.”

Jack felt his throat go dry. He licked his lips, already wondering if a single wooden bed would be too cramped for two people at night.

“Then take them off tonight,” Jack said, shoving one hand into his pocket as he looked down at the messy stairs. “How about I help you scrub?”

Zhong Ming bent down, picked up the rag, and squeezed it in his hand, saying timidly, “…No need. I can manage.”

Jack let out a laugh, thinking that while this new Asian boy was a bit dull, he was at least obedient.

He glanced at Zhong Ming twice more with the eyes of someone looking at a plaything, lingering for a long time on his downcast face, which he found to be quite beautiful.

Having seen enough, he decided to just wait for the main course tonight. With a wicked grin, he turned and walked down the steps, treading through the bloody water and leaving several rows of muddy footprints on the stairs.

Zhong Ming watched their figures disappear through the doorway. The timid expression on his face vanished. He picked up the bucket and rag, walked to the bottom of the stairs, and crouched down to start scrubbing again from the very first step.

Physical labor like cleaning left no room for cleverness; there were no shortcuts, only doing it bit by bit. The light shining through the stained-glass windows moved from a low angle to high and then back down again.

By the time the orange glow of sunset hit Zhong Ming’s face, he was only halfway through the stairs.

During this time, not a soul appeared in the hall. Neither Matthew nor Madam Mary from the morning, nor the other menservants, nor the young master from the portrait made an appearance.

Zhong Ming thought of nothing else, focusing entirely on scrubbing his steps.

When the orange sunset light finally bathed Zhong Ming’s face, Li Yizhi slipped out and walked up behind him: “Working so hard?”

Zhong Ming turned his head, glanced at him, and then looked back down.

“Hiiyah.” Li Yizhi crouched down and tilted his head to look at him: “Did you get bullied? Why aren’t you finished yet? Is someone picking on you?”

Zhong Ming said without looking up, “No one is picking on me.”

Li Yizhi squatted beside him, watching his pale, slender hands hold the rag. His movements were slow and meticulous; he was cleaning the steps as if he were carving fine art.

“How long is it going to take you at this rate?”

Li Yizhi frowned as he watched. Based on this speed, the work wouldn’t be finished even by midnight. Zhong Ming’s expression remained unchanged, his focus entirely on the marble.

Seeing this, Li Yizhi sighed. He reached out and took Zhong Ming’s hand, pulled a handkerchief from his own pocket, and carefully wiped the grime from Zhong Ming’s fingers. Then, he pressed something warm into his palm.

Zhong Ming turned his head and saw a hard piece of rye bread.

The quality was clearly poor, not much better than the porridge from this morning, and only a faint, struggling hint of aroma drifted from beneath the crust.

Zhong Ming pushed it back. “I won’t eat it. You keep it.”

“That won’t do.” Li Yizhi tore off a piece and held it to Zhong Ming’s lips. “You only had a couple of bites this morning. After working all day, aren’t you hungry?”

Unable to resist, Zhong Ming opened his mouth slightly. As he chewed, it felt like eating wax. The bread was dry and hard, lacking any wheaten fragrance and tasting slightly sour.

After two bites, he refused to eat any more. Having no other choice, Li Yizhi withdrew his hand and stuffed the rest of the bread into his own mouth, finishing it in a few gulps. He clapped his hands clean and said to Zhong Ming, “Are you made of iron? Can you live without eating?”

A small smile played at the corners of Zhong Ming’s mouth. Of course he was hungry, but he was very good at enduring it. Perhaps it was related to his experiences in his past life, which he unfortunately had forgotten.

Through the course of the day, Zhong Ming had come to understand that food was a scarce resource for servants like them. The fact that Li Yizhi was willing to save food for him meant the man at least bore him some goodwill.

Zhong Ming looked at him. “I might have to work very late. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“…Fine then.”

Li Yizhi had intended to keep persuading him, but he seemed to read something in Zhong Ming’s expression. He fell silent, turned to head back into the corridor, and left one final remark: “Just make sure you don’t stay out too late. It’s not safe.”

Zhong Ming nodded, not taking the warning too seriously. No matter how dangerous it was out here, it was better than going back to face Jack.

Long after Li Yizhi left, night slowly descended.

The only sound remaining in the hall was the rhythm of the rag against the marble. Zhong Ming finally finished the last step. He looked up at the moon hanging high outside the window and guessed it was past midnight.

As expected, no one cared how long he worked, and no one came to see if he had returned to sleep.

Only Jack, likely, cared about that.

At the thought, Zhong Ming’s lips curled slightly. He had intentionally lingered out here until this hour; Jack was probably still searching for him downstairs. Zhong Ming put away his rag, stood up, and stretched his stiff legs and hands, soaked by the cold water. Once he felt a little better, he turned and walked downstairs.

I’ll just find a corner to sleep in for a bit, he thought.

However, halfway down, a rustling sound suddenly erupted behind him.

It sounded like something sharp was piercing the surface of the marble, producing a crisp sound.

Is it a rat?

Zhong Ming turned around and suddenly met the gaze of eight eyes.

In the next instant, seized by extreme terror, he lost his balance and plummeted from the very top of the stairs.

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You can purchase the translation of chapter 1-50 (epub format) HERE. The second half is coming soon ~~