Why does this topic of living as a widow keep coming up!
Xia Jian wanted to argue back.
But she deflated and closed her mouth.
It wasn’t Pei Guanzhu’s fault for thinking this way.
Xia Jian couldn’t think of a better explanation for her obvious concern for Pei Guanzhu other than worrying about becoming a widow.
“Actually, what you said is pretty close,” Xia Jian squatted on the ground, feeling his gaze sweep over her from above, “but I think there’s still a slight difference.”
“Oh?” The young man’s tone was light, “And what difference is that?”
Xia Jian met his distant gaze and silently sighed in relief. Thankfully, the ironclad rules of book-transmigration hadn’t fallen on her. If she had to win over a murderer, even if she spent three hundred years in the book and got chopped up eight hundred times, she’d probably still struggle to win his heart.
“Of course it’s different,” Xia Jian replied weakly, “Rather than saying I’m afraid of living as a widow, I’m more afraid of something happening to you, Young Master Pei. Besides, I actually don’t want to marry you either.”
“Because, my feelings for you, Young Master Pei, are less like romantic affection and more like… wanting to serve you, take care of you, and protect you.”
“…Serve me, take care of me, protect me?” The gentle, distant smile on Pei Guanzhu’s face gradually cracked, and he frowned slightly.
Xia Jian had no idea how much misunderstanding her declaration of loyalty had caused for someone from ancient times. “Yes! I want to serve you, take care of you, and protect you! Just like… just like a guard! I really, really want to be Young Master Pei’s personal guard!”
Pei Guanzhu: …
Pei Guanzhu stared at her intently for a long moment.
After a while, a stiff smile finally curled at the corners of his lips.
“Very well,”
Xia Jian looked up, “You understand me now?”
“I do,” Pei Guanzhu’s smile brightened, “I’ve misunderstood you all along, Miss Xia.”
So she was just mentally ill. He’d seen plenty of that, but he hadn’t expected this Miss Xia to be so good at pretending.
“It’s fine, it’s fine, as long as you understand me,” Xia Jian patted her chest, “Young Master Pei, you can rest assured! I’ll work hard to train my body in the future and strive to become a qualified personal guard!”
Pei Guanzhu hummed, “Unfortunately, I already have one like you in my courtyard.”
“You already have one? Where is he?”
“Didn’t you see him when you came?”
Xia Jian shook her head, “No, I didn’t.”
Not only was there no guard, but there weren’t even any essential maids or elderly servants. The front courtyard was packed to the brim, but his courtyard was as lonely as a haunted house.
“But I did see one person,” Xia Jian recalled, “A strong, simple-minded servant. When he saw the blacksmith and me struggling to move the iron blocks, he even helped us. What a good person!”
Pei Guanzhu: “…He even helped you move them?”
“Yes,” Xia Jian’s almond-shaped eyes curved into crescents, her words carrying none of the disdain or condescension that a typical young lady would have toward a simple-minded servant, “So he’s from your courtyard, Young Master Pei?”
“Mm.”
“Where’s the guard?”
Pei Guanzhu didn’t answer.
Xia Jian met his half-smiling gaze and belatedly realized something.
“…That simple-minded servant is your guard?”
Seeing the amusement deepen in his eyes, Xia Jian hesitated for a moment before her eyes widened in realization. She sprang to her feet.
“How dare you! I was speaking from the heart, and you’re mocking me as a fool instead!”
"Pfft! Hahaha…"
Xia Jian hadn't expected Pei Guanzhu to laugh like this. Her anger was completely suppressed by his unrestrained laughter.
Although Pei Guanzhu often smiled in daily life, his smiles were usually insincere. This was the first time Xia Jian had seen him laugh like this.
The young man's eyes curved into crescents as he rose from the carved wooden chair, the red Peace Amulet dangling from his fingertips. Xia Jian's gaze shifted from looking down at him back to her usual upward perspective.
Unexpectedly, Pei Guanzhu suddenly leaned close to her. His cool fingertips brushed against the skin beneath Xia Jian's eyes, his movements unhurried and deliberate, as if idly teasing his prey.
Xia Jian shuddered, goosebumps crawling up her spine.
Why were a murderer's hands always so cold?
"When Miss Xia gets angry, she looks completely different from her usual meek and submissive self," the young man's tone was naturally light and dismissive, but up close, it sounded like intimate whispers between lovers. "Bright-eyed and lively, fierce and spirited—it's a pity such qualities are wasted in a place like Pei Fu."
After leaving this ambiguous "joke," Pei Guanzhu's thumb brushed the corner of Xia Jian's eye one last time before he turned and went back inside. The hem of his light robe vanished from Xia Jian's sight in an instant.
On the small tea table lay a sewing kit and red fox fur.
Xia Jian stared at the needle's eye under the candlelight for a moment before threading it.
Shaoyao helped by lighting another lamp beside her. "Must you sew it yourself, Miss Cousin? Couldn't you just hire a seamstress tomorrow?"
Xia Jian deftly tied a knot at the end of the thread. "If I left it to the seamstresses in the manor, I'd probably have to wait until next year to get this fur coat."
Shaoyao wore a worried expression. Everyone in the manor knew that Miss Cousin's hands had fed pigs and worked the fields—she couldn't hold a brush, let alone do needlework. This red fox fur was a gift from Madam Chen to Miss Cousin as a welcoming present. She hoped it wouldn't be ruined by Miss Cousin's rough hands.
Unable to bear the thought of such a waste, Shaoyao was about to persuade her again when she saw Xia Jian skillfully pressing down the fox fur and neatly stitching along the edge.
"Huh?" Shaoyao widened her eyes. "Miss Cousin, you actually know how to do this?"
"Yes," Xia Jian replied without looking up, explaining that back in the countryside, her family's clothes often needed mending, so she had to patch them up to last another three years.
As she deftly sewed the fur coat, she couldn't help but hum a tune she often sang back in the shop.
Xia Jian's grandmother ran a qipao shop. Although Xia Jian had no intention of inheriting the business, growing up around it and occasionally helping out had taught her some basic skills.
She wasn't particularly talented or patient, but embroidery was something she had studied seriously.
Little did she expect that in this world, her skill would be used to sew clothes for a murderer.
A gentle drizzle fell all night, washing the sky clear and bright.
Liu Ruoteng stepped over the mottled puddles on the bluestone path, signaling Xu Zhi not to follow further as she lifted her skirt and ascended the three steps to Qingling Yuan.
"Here to see our Miss Cousin?" Shaoyao opened the door. "She hasn't gotten up yet. If you have business with her, you can go right in."
Liu Ruoteng touched the left side of her face, which was not covered by a mask, thinking she would need to properly introduce herself again to the overly familiar Miss Xia. She knocked twice on the tightly shut door but received no response.
Having spent a long time in the martial world, Liu Ruoteng grew anxious when she heard no reply and pushed the door open directly.
"Miss Xia!"
No one responded. Liu Ruoteng's gaze swept around and saw someone sitting at the dressing table in the inner room, hands resting on the tabletop, head bowed. The long, dark hair that usually cascaded down her back had fallen forward in strands, perfectly obscuring her face.
Liu Ruoteng approached with light, slow steps. "…Miss Xia?"
The figure on the wooden stool jolted, her spirit seemingly called back by this address. Xia Jian's slightly dazed gaze fell upon Liu Ruoteng's face.
"Sister Liu."
"What's wrong?" Liu Ruoteng asked with concern.
Xia Jian rubbed her forehead, her usually bright smile tinged with bitterness. "I had a… rather frightening nightmare."
Perhaps it was the curse brought by sealing the well.
In her dream, Xia Jian saw Pei Fu engulfed in a crimson glow. A life-sized vase in the corner was knocked over by a panicked maid fleeing in terror, shattering into pieces on the floor and cutting the maid's tender palm, leaving it bloody.
A clamor from the front courtyard echoed from afar. She herself stood before the unsealed well, gripping the edge as she peered down into its depths.
The firelight reddened the sky and also illuminated what should have been pitch-black darkness at the bottom of the well.
"When Aunt fell ill, she told me the whole truth," she said, looking at her own blurred, indistinct reflection on the water's surface. The rippling waves distorted her face—eyes no longer eyes, nose no longer nose—a grotesque and absurd sight. "How exactly did that maid named Lian'er die?"
Suddenly, a pair of icy hands pressed against her back. Startled, before she could even turn around, she was pushed straight into the well by those hands.
The cold well water, tinted crimson by the firelight, flooded her mouth, eyes, and nose, soaking her clothes. Her vision plunged into darkness, her ears ringing, as she heard a scornful laugh from above.
"Does Cousin want to know? Then go down and ask her yourself."