Feng Ciye smiled and answered flawlessly, "Just curious."
Mu Qingi couldn’t discern the purpose behind Feng Ciye’s question; she had never seen that eldest brother and heard that he died young, still in swaddling clothes.
If he had truly grown up, he might be two or three years older than Feng Ciye?
The Mu Family’s old house had few people and wasn’t as grand or majestic as the Feng Family’s old house, but the scenery was exceptionally beautiful.
Occasionally, you could see so servants sweeping the floor or weeding in the garden, extrely leisurely and carefree.
Mu Qingi invited Feng Ciye to take a stroll around the Mu Family, but ultimately couldn’t make out anything, so she had him sit in the hall for tea.
Mu Qingi remarked with a hint of a smile, "Fourth Young Master, are you satisfied now? You’ve toured every inch of the Mu Family’s old house. Is it nice?"
Feng Ciye glanced at the butler serving tea and lowered his voice, "There’s still one place—your ancestral hall."
Mu Qingi was taken aback, her brows furrowing.
Due to Brother Qi, her relationship with Feng Ciye wasn’t good. His sudden visit and casual wandering clearly indicated he was searching for sothing, which greatly displeased Mu Qingi.
Especially a place like the ancestral hall?
Even Second Brother Mu Shian wouldn’t take Feng Ciye to the family ancestral hall.
Mu Qingi felt discontent and was about to ask Feng Ciye to leave when she suddenly noticed two middle-aged won servants, each carrying a small cloth bag, speaking indistinctly with sothing in their mouths.
They seed unaware that Mu Qingi had returned with Feng Ciye, causing them to be utterly flustered, dropping the cloth bags onto the ground.
So visually appealing and fragrant pastries rolled out of the bags, and so pastry crumbs fell to the ground.
The plump Auntie servants imdiately grew worried and apologized profusely to them.
Mu Qingi instructed them to clean up the ss, but Feng Ciye’s gentle voice suddenly interrupted, "Are these pastries from An City’s Imperial Kitchen? How can you ladies afford them?"
It wasn’t that Feng Ciye looked down on these servants; he had once lived at society’s lowest rung and always treated people kindly. He spoke up because he knew the truth.
An City’s Imperial Kitchen’s Chinese pastries were always limited in purchase daily, usually bought by wealthy, prestigious families, and were quite popular among the daughters of nobility.
A single pastry costs thousands to tens of thousands of yuan, which these servant aunties couldn’t possibly afford.
At this mont, the servant aunties beca flustered, seeing Mu Qingi’s frown and hurriedly explained:
"Miss, these pastries are offerings in the ancestral hall for our ancestors. That eldest young master of the Feng Family keeps sending them over, placing them in front of the tablets, and replacing them with new pastries each day." An auntie lanted, "We’ve heard these pastries are very expensive, costing several thousand. Offering them for just one day before throwing them away is such a waste, so we thought we’d take a few pieces ho for our grandchildren to taste..."
Even though offered for a day, their taste wasn’t as delicious as when freshly baked, but for ordinary families, they were an extrely rare treat.
The servant aunties felt it was wasteful to discard the pastries ant for the ancestors, so they would take so, with the butler’s tacit approval. Who would’ve thought they’d just happen to get caught today? Deep down, they were a bit panicky.
Feng Ciye stood with his hands behind his back, a subtle and intriguing smile appearing on his refined face, "Sent by the eldest young master of the Feng Family?"
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