My Emperor Father Can Read Minds

Before the early morning sun had risen, the bustling noise at the dock had already woken Chu Chaoyun up.

Perhaps it was because the meals had improved these past two days, so Chu Chaoyun woke up a bit later than usual, though she still got up early.

A narrow window was slightly ajar, letting in a faint sliver of light. She raised her hand to rub her face, stiff from the cold. As she sat up, she opened the window wide.

The water caltrops left over from last night were carefully wrapped in oiled paper and hidden under the bedboard on the side near the ship’s wall — a place sunlight couldn’t reach and hard to discover unless someone got down on the floor to look.

The oiled paper had been given by a “kind person” on the day she arrived, containing some powdered medicine. Chu Chaoyun knew anything was hard to come by in this place, so after using up the medicine, she kept the paper.

The noise from the dock came from laborers moving goods. Although such activity happened daily, it felt like today’s work had started rather early.

The commotion was so loud it woke many of the boatwomen.

Chu Chaoyun couldn’t stand competing with everyone for the washroom, so she slapped her thigh and exclaimed, “Damn,” grabbed her headscarf, and dashed out of her compartment, bending over slightly as she moved quickly, running up the stairs with quick steps.

She had no choice—this was a psychological shadow created by working and sharing a rental room. To avoid queuing, she had once gone to shower at four in the morning.

Later, hearing from colleagues that showering so early could cause a stroke, she dared not be so reckless again.

When Chu Chaoyun reached the top, the washroom was indeed empty. She splashed water on her face joyfully, brushed her teeth with a twig she found, then sighed and walked to the side of the ship to look out toward the dock.

Due to the ship’s daily demands, a steady stream of fruits and vegetables were delivered every day, but today’s meat seemed more abundant.

A laborer, seemingly warmed up from work, took off his outer robe, letting his bare chest show, and carried a half-cut fresh pig onto the boat, panting heavily.

Chu Chaoyun looked toward the dock every day, but hardly had many hopes. When she saw a line beginning to form outside the washroom, she pretended to wipe a lantern with a cloth, trying to slip away slowly.

Just as she was about to turn, Chu Chaoyun suddenly caught sight of a small, thin figure among the laborers—too far to clearly see his face.

The boy wore the same robe as the others and a plain colored turban, clearly carrying a small box, but hesitated and didn’t move forward.

When they were captured, the broken room was dark and dim. Everyone was covered in dirt. Later, she and Chu Xilan and the other girls were taken away, while Chu Yu was shoved away by Big Zhao and others.

The separation was so sudden, Chu Chaoyun couldn’t recall what Chu Yu looked like.

They were separated by the wide dock, silently looking at each other; an indescribable sorrow surged in her heart for a moment. This body belonged to the original owner, and some habits formed muscle memory—let alone a deep sibling bond.

It was a strange feeling. Chu Chaoyun was sure that small boy was Chu Yu, and obviously, he recognized her as well.

Chu Yu was only ten years old. By modern standards, he probably hadn’t even finished elementary school.

In the original owner’s memories, Chu Chaoyun’s younger brother was very much loved by their family. Although born into a farming household, he was rarely made to do farm labor.

The Chu family pampered their children, showed no preference for sons over daughters, and their parents not only spoiled Chu Yu but also tried to raise Chu Chaoyun well to the best of their ability.

Whether they discovered the evil deeds done by Third Aunt, Chu Chaoyun didn’t know.

Were the elders in the family all right?

Affected by this body, Chu Chaoyun couldn’t stop feeling melancholic. Her hand slowed while wiping, and her feet didn’t move in time.

The boy seemed to cry; carrying the box with both hands was inconvenient, so Chu Yu tried hard to tilt his head to one side, rubbing half his face several times against his sleeve.

Suddenly, a burly man kicked him in the back. Chu Yu wasn’t prepared and fell to the ground, the box dropping in front of him. Apparently annoyed by his dawdling, the man raised a whip and struck.

Startled, Chu Yu quickly shielded his head with his hands and slowly got up from the ground.

Chu Chaoyun’s cloth dropped to the ground without her noticing. Panic-stricken, she bent to pick it up and coughed twice with difficulty.

Looking up, she saw Mrs. Diao staggering toward her. Mrs. Diao blocked her view and lowered her voice, “I’ll wipe it here later. The early morning wind is strong—don’t stand here and get a chill; you see, your eyes are all red.”

Chu Chaoyun slowly exhaled and stood up, rubbing her eyes even redder with force. “True enough, it made me cough and choke.”

Mrs. Diao walked alongside her out of that spot. Chu Chaoyun didn’t dare look back at the dock.

She had realized it was better not to look; it would save both sides some suffering.

After adjusting her mood, she casually asked, “Why’s it so lively today? Pieces of piglets being carried up one after another—is it someone’s birthday celebration?”

Even she didn’t quite believe the words, but it was just an excuse to start a conversation.

Mrs. Diao waved her hand, saying her body was weak and walked slowly, and since the two of them were dodging the managers’ eyes to go to a corner, only when fewer people were around did Mrs. Diao say, “A wealthy family in the city is celebrating a birthday onboard, so it’s all being made a big fuss. I guess there will be quite a few guests this time. By the way, how’s your oar rowing?”

“I can manage now. Manager Zhong personally evaluated me.”

Thinking about possibly getting assigned to row a boat for guests, Chu Chaoyun felt hopeful.

Staying on this boat all day was like being in prison; over time, she feared going mad. Even if she couldn’t go ashore, rowing a small boat to cruise around would be good.

“You’ve got good luck. Normally, newcomers like you wanting to row have to wait in long queues.”

Mrs. Diao glanced at the river and smiled rarely.

Chu Chaoyun blinked and said, “Since a wealthy family is celebrating a birthday, they must be preparing many dishes. Looks like Aunt has a busy day.”

Chu Chaoyun hadn’t been inside the kitchen. She didn’t dare inquire about what was happening in the private rooms. Seeing Manager Zhong ask Mrs. Diao to bring meals to the girls, she instinctively thought that the meals for the guests were also prepared by Mrs. Diao.

Mrs. Diao heard this and shook her head helplessly, “I’m clumsy. The managers look down on me.”

Then she pointed at the half-open kitchen door and lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper, “The cook in there is hired at great expense by the managers—a cook girl who makes excellent dishes. Most girls eat what she prepares. When I help out, it’s only in special circumstances.”

The two walked around the Flower Boat for a while. The aroma wafting from the kitchen showed that the cook girl was already busy.

Holding her breath to avoid smelling the fragrances—tempted but unable to eat—it was frustrating.

Busy with various chores the whole morning, at noon when receiving a meal, Chu Chaoyun closed her eyes, grabbed a piece of bread, pinched it quickly, and ran back to the dark storage to rest.

She dared not take out the water caltrops to eat in broad daylight, though drooling at the thought. She could only stuff more bread into her mouth to fill it. After swallowing, she closed the door and rested with her eyes closed in the faint light from the small window.

Now that the season was turning to early autumn, only the midday sun was warm enough. Chu Chaoyun tried to position her body closer to the sunlight, and slowly, the area around her chest warmed up a bit.

But the bedboard was still cold.

She now felt like a grilled fish set on ice and snow—one side burning hot, the others bone-chillingly cold.

When she read The Little Match Girl as a child, she felt no empathy, but now, she could almost fully understand it from personal experience.

Mrs. Diao often went ashore, and Chu Chaoyun had thought about asking her to bring bedding, but she had been here less than half a month and had no monthly pay. The original owner carried no valuable jade pendants or jewelry.

Not only her—Chu Xilan and Chu Yu’s pockets were also clean.

Wasn’t that strange?

Chu Chaoyun guessed that their money and silver items were probably taken when they were unconscious.

Whether it was Third Aunt or those who trafficked them, Chu Chaoyun had no way of knowing.

She lay on the bare, damp wooden boards, turning back and forth like a pan-fried egg, soaking up the little warmth and light, sunbathing the front then the back, until someone came to call her, and she quickly got up to continue working.

Mrs. Diao had been on the boat for a while and her guesses were never off.

At this moment, all the private rooms on the third floor were fully booked. On the second floor, young masters and misses were playing pitch-pot, pulling several girls along.

Miss Chunye seemed in a bad mood, hugging a pipa and lightly singing while leaning outside. Her song carried an undeniable sadness. Before long, Manager Zhong came over to scold her.

“Did your father or mother die? It’s a birthday celebration—why are you crying like funerals?”

Manager Zhong snapped sharply.

When Chu Chaoyun heard it again, the tune had turned cheerful.

Chu Chaoyun stood with some younger boatwomen on the side. Like Mrs. Diao and others past middle age, Manager Zhong never allowed them to row anymore.

After patiently waiting, several guests came down from the wooden ladder one after another. Manager Zhong arranged things based on numbers and circumstances.

Some guests liked to share a boat with a girl, others brought babies and husbands, and some young masters who enjoyed poetry and disliked disturbance had only one boatwoman to row for them.

Chu Chaoyun’s guest was an older gentleman, the head of this wealthy family. His wife had died early, so he asked for Chun Ye’s company to chat.

The tour boats were small, carrying at most three adults and one child.

Chu Chaoyun helped the old gentleman down into the small boat first, then prepared for her own duties.

Miss Chunye, standing on the Flower Boat, was as elegant as her name. Wearing a teal hairpin and a robe embroidered with hydrangea patterns, paired with a matching long skirt. Even her half-visible embroidered shoes were a delicate emerald green.

Chun Ye came down somewhat distracted, almost stepping into the river, but Chu Chaoyun quickly grabbed her and whispered, “Be careful.”

Chun Ye nodded and quietly sat to the side.

Once both were settled, Chu Chaoyun walked to the stern, turned slightly toward the old gentleman with a bright smile and cheerfully asked, “May I ask which part of the Rui River you’d like to see, sir?”

The old gentleman didn’t seem very interested in the scenery. Coming down was more about digestion and fresh air. He was warmly dressed, unlike Chu Chaoyun who wore just a thin garment.

He waved his hand faintly and said in a gentle tone, “Just go where you like, take a leisurely tour.”

“All right, please sit tight!”

Chu Chaoyun had a place she wanted to go.

She began to row slowly, thinking that maybe tonight, she wouldn’t have to lie on that cold wooden board again.