“Very well,” he said. “For the elders, you use Shifu for masters,Lao zun for honored elders, and Shushu or Ayí if they ask for familial forms.”
Poppy wrote them down, repeating each carefully.
“Shifu… Lao zun… Shushu… Ayi.”
Mingxi studied her—not like a teacher judging a pupil, but like someone quietly impressed by her effort.
“You learn quickly,” he murmured.
“That is extremely debatable,” she muttered.
“But true,” he said.
She felt her face warm.
They continued—polite refusals, formal acknowledgments, common phrases she would overhear at meals. Mingxi corrected her tones with patience so steady it made her chest ache.
When she faltered, he guided. When she tried again, he nodded in approval. When she finally repeated a greeting flawlessly, he said softly, “There. That one was perfect.”
“It matters to me,” she said. “Because this place matters to me.”
Mingxi’s eyes softened, silver warming at the edges. “I know,” he said.
Somehow, those two words meant more than any praise.
The morning lesson left Poppy glowing with something gentler than magic—pride. Small pride, but real. She held onto it as she followed Mingxi into the main hall for breakfast.
Warm steam drifted from baskets of buns, bowls of rice porridge, sliced spring peaches, and fragrant tea. The low table was already half full. Minghua was perched sideways on her cushion, picking the sesame off her bun. Mingjun stirred honey into his porridge, badly disguised mischief lurking in his eyes. Xu Yunlian, elegant as always, poured tea. At the head, Lord Shen sat, posture straight, expression unreadable.
Poppy hesitated a beat, breath catching—these were people who had opened their home to her. People she respected deeply. Then she gathered her courage. She stepped forward, lowered her hands in a polite fold, and bowed just slightly deeper than Mingxi taught her.
“Zao an, Shen Dàrén.Zao an, Furén.”
The room went still.
Xu Yunlian’s eyes brightened at once—warm, surprised, touched.
Lord Shen blinked once, his stern expression cracking into something almost gentle.
Minghua’s jaw dropped in slow motion.
Mingjun choked on his tea.
And Mingxi went absolutely, beautifully still. Like Poppy had just placed something sacred in his hands.
Xu Yunlian set her teacup down with both hands, a respectful mirror of Poppy’s gesture. “Zao an, child,” she replied softly, her voice warm with pride. “Your tones were very good.”
Poppy flushed, relieved and flustered at once. “I… tried.”
Lord Shen inclined his head, a gesture she’d never seen from him before. “A sincere greeting honors the house,” he said. “Thank you, Ms. Sinclair.”
Minghua launched herself across the table and grabbed Poppy’s hands.
“You practiced!” She beamed. “You practiced for us! I’m telling everyone!”
“Minghua,” Xu Yunlian said gently, “let her breathe.”
Minghua released her at once but stayed pressed to her side like an enthusiastic barnacle.
