On her first day as a housekeeper, Cheng Yi started with a thorough cleaning of the house.
The Ye family had arranged an impressively high level of support for their new "housekeeper," even assigning her a "personal assistant"—Brother Allen, to be precise.
He fetched water while she scrubbed the floor; he took out the trash while she tidied up; she cooked while he washed the dishes.
As for the so-called "master of the house", aside from heading out briefly in the morning, he spent most of his time alternating between eating and sleeping, and then sleeping some more. Cheng Yi specifically asked him what he didn't like to eat. Apart from green peppers, scallions, and cilantro, he was fine with everything else. Allen wondered why she hadn't asked him, Ye Mingzhe gave him a look of disdain.
"猪什么都吃."（"Pigs eat everything."）
That's the downside of not being fluent in Chinese—you end up getting the short end of the stick. Allen didn't understand he'd walked into a trap and quickly replied,
"Oh, I see! Something that eats everything is basically a pig, right?"
Not fair! Cheng Yi had to stifle her laughter for a good while.
While cleaning, Cheng Yi found some Tianqi root and decided to make a hearty broth using beef bones she'd bought from the store. She also whipped up a few side dishes, and by the time dinner rolled around, there was a spread of four dishes and one soup on the table. Mingzhe asked her to pour some soup into a thermos flask. That's when it suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't yet inquired about how the elderly Mr. Ye was doing in the hospital. She felt a bit guilty—how could she have forgotten to check on his recovery?
"How's Mr Ye doing?"
"You'll see for yourself."
What did that mean? It turned out the old Mr. Ye was discharged that very afternoon, and only then did Cheng Yi realize that her real housekeeper duties were only just beginning.
It was from that day that Mingzhe's 'Big Boss' title was established, coined by none other than Allen. After dinner, Mingzhe laid out instructions in the most authoritative Wall Street boss tone:
Cheng Yi would move into the Ye house, and when she didn't have classes, she would take responsibility for cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the elderly Mr. Ye. The Ye family would pay her wages.Allen would assist Ye Michael with his work during the day and lend Cheng Yi a hand whenever needed. He would return to Cheng Yi's place at night, with the government covering the rent.The Big Boss himself would focus on eating, sleeping, and occasionally issuing commands.
He laid it all out like he had everything figured out, yet no one really knew where his money came from. Still, he didn't seem to have any trouble covering his living expenses, and paying taxes didn't seem to be a problem for him.
When Ye Mingzhe helped his grandfather home, Grandpa Ye was delighted to see Cheng Yi helping around and keeping the place in impeccable order. As for Allen, Mingzhe's assistant, he quickly won the elderly man's favor with his charm and curiosity about Chinese culture, even learning to write Chinese characters stroke by stroke and picking up some simple martial arts moves.
What's better than a charming young lad? A charming young lad with a silver tongue! Within a few days, he had the Grandpa Ye grinning from ear to ear. What truly touched Allen, though, was when he finally got a family name of his own.
"Young man, a person without a surname is like a tree without roots."
"That serious? What should I do then?"
"How about this? We seem to have a good connection. You can take our family name. From now on, you'll be one of us. Your Chinese name will be… Minglang."
With a firm decision made, incense was lit, and the ancestors were informed.
"Mingzhe doesn't have brothers, he's your elder brother now."
Cheng Yi sneaked a glance at the newly-minted 'Big Brother,' who was still glued to his laptop, seemingly indifferent to everything around him.
Between classes, Cheng Yi was either cleaning, cooking, or doing laundry at the Ye house, while Grandpa Ye was mainly looked after by his new 'grandson' Ye Minglang. Thanks to Grandpa Ye's culinary teachings, Cheng Yi learned many secrets of soup-making and even began experimenting with traditional Cantonese dishes on the verge of disappearing. With the impressive appetites of the three men, the original four-dish, one-soup meal turned into six dishes and a soup every time. Each meal was cleaned out, leaving nothing behind. She was even careful not to increase the rice portions, worried they might overeat.
Grandpa Ye, with his extensive knowledge of Chinese classics, often helped Cheng Yi with her studies, relieving her from the embarrassment of being a 'Chinese who couldn't pass her exams.' As for Mingzhe, his own grandson, he occasionally focused on the red and green curves on his screen, still living his 'pig-like' lifestyle—eating and sleeping without ever gaining a pound.
Allen—oh no, now it's Ye Minglang—spent his days learning Chinese under Grandpa Ye's tutelage. Even when he didn't fully understand, he could generally guess the meaning. As for the rest, it often led to hilarious misunderstandings.
"What does 'Ye' mean?"
"Ye means 'leaf.' Without leaves absorbing nutrients, a tree can't survive."
"So, 'Ye' means something great."
"Our ancestors were great indeed."
"Greater than Bruce Lee?"
"We've produced many great talents."
"Then I must be pretty great too."
For someone who barely knew his ABCs in Chinese, he sure could talk big. But it worked. Grandpa Ye was in stitches.
Cheng Yi glanced at Mingzhe, who was eating quietly. Would he get jealous? Mingzhe suddenly looked up and caught her gaze, she quickly focused back on her food.
Watching Minglang's cheerful spirit, Mingzhe seemed to realize something.
"We cover lodging, not including meals."
But Minglang did help out around the house, didn't he? And what about yourself? He did nothing—how's that fair? Cheng Yi grumbled internally.
After spending so much time with him, she had finally learned the calculation method of this Wall Street elite—whatever was beneficial to him could be justified. He always had a mountain of reasons to support himself and a pile of arguments to refute others.
"Poor Minglang," she thought with a hint of sympathy, feeling he was getting the short end of the stick.