Wen Ning’s eyes widened slightly. “The Protector wants to see me?”
“Yes.” Fang Wu’s face was sour, as though he disliked the fact even more than she did.
“But… why would the Protector want me?” Wen Ning blinked innocently.
She had been careful and proper these past two days—she hadn’t done anything out of line!
Suddenly, her gaze flickered. Could it be because she had used the Heimlich maneuver today in Tongtuo Street to save that woman?
She had long expected Chen Jinfeng would assign someone to watch her. Even though she believed her performance in the dungeon had been flawless, a man as suspicious as he would never let go so easily. She had guessed he would summon her again eventually—but she thought it would be after she officially began treating patients.
Fang Wu ground his teeth, finding her current demeanor unbearably false. “How should I know!”
Wasn’t this exactly what the woman wanted—attention from the Protector? And now she pretended otherwise!
Wen Ning, having sorted her thoughts, glanced at Fang Wu’s icy expression and shrugged. “Fine. Let’s go then.”
Her tone made it sound as though answering the Protector’s summons was a reluctant chore. No wonder he had guarded against the concubines of the rear courtyard for two years, yet failed to guard against her!
Fang Wu took a deep breath, turned, and said coldly: “Follow me.”
Wen Ning said nothing and walked behind him.
Chen Jinfeng’s suspicion was deeper than she had imagined. Though she had already thought through what to say if he summoned her again, now she realized her earlier plans might have been too simplistic. This was her first time dealing with a man whose mind was so profoundly cautious and mistrustful. Her thoughts raced as she followed Fang Wu into the eastern courtyard—deeper than when she had gone to the dungeon.
The Protector’s household guarded the rear courtyard concubines like prisoners; the eastern courtyard was even more strictly forbidden to them.
As Wen Ning quietly observed her surroundings, Fang Wu’s cold voice suddenly cut through the air ahead.
“Don’t think you can win the Protector’s favor with petty tricks.”
Wen Ning withdrew her gaze, raised her brows slightly, and looked at the man who wouldn’t even glance back at her.
“The Protector is not one to be easily deceived. If I discover you harbor any improper intentions, I won’t wait for him to act—I’ll cleanse the household myself.” His words dripped with killing intent.
Chunxi trembled involuntarily, her face pale.
Wen Ning, however, couldn’t help but laugh softly. “So in Chief Fang’s eyes, every woman in the world harbors improper intentions toward your Protectorr?”
Still pretending! Fang Wu shot her a cold look. Though he trusted the Protector would not be easily swayed, if she truly managed to beguile him, it would be Fang Wu’s failure. If he let her dance her way into the Protector’s presence, even death would not be enough to atone.
Wen Ning, however, no longer bothered to argue. Prejudice in the human heart was like a mountain—not easily moved.
Fang Wu led them through several turns until they reached a secluded courtyard. Above the moon‑gate entrance were three bold, elegant characters: Chengfeng Pavilion.
Inside, Wen Ning first saw a pond, cleverly designed with a small waterfall. The sound of trickling water mingled with the dusky evening light, and several brightly colored koi swam in the clear pool, adding liveliness to the courtyard.
Flowers and trees were planted in careful arrangement. In the upper right corner stood a towering parasol tree, its vast canopy spreading wide, shading half the courtyard.
Wen Ning felt a strange, indescribable sensation. She had thought her “cheap husband” was nothing but a ruthless schemer, his mind full of battles and plots. Yet his residence carried an unexpected breath of life.
As they entered, Fang Wu stopped, stepped aside, and gestured curtly. His tone, however, sounded more like dismissal: “Lady Wen, go in. The Protector is in the study.” Then he cast a cold glance at Chunxi. “You stay here.”
Wen Ning gave Chunxi a reassuring look, then followed Fang Wu’s direction to the eastern wing. She softly called: “My lord.”
Silence lingered for a moment before a voice answered—pleasant as ever, now tinged with lazy indifference: “Come in.”
Wen Ning tiptoed forward and slid the door open. In recent days she had learned more about this era. It resembled the Wei‑Jin period: tall furniture was uncommon, chairs as used in later times did not exist. People spread mats on the floor and sat directly upon them.
Chen Jinfeng’s desk was set sideways to the door. As she entered, she saw him seated cross‑legged on the floor, one arm bent, fist pressed against his temple, elbow resting on a curved armrest. A faint medicinal scent drifted through the air.
Wen Ning’s steps faltered. Though the smell was light, her nose caught it instantly.
That brief pause was enough for the man at the desk to notice. He turned, his deep phoenix eyes gleaming coldly, lips curving faintly as he drawled:
“Lady Wen, are you not coming closer? Do you mean to stand there and admire the room instead?”
“…”
Dealing with this man truly allowed no moment of slack.
Wen Ning quickly raised a timid, delicate smile. “It is my first time in my lord’s study. I am a little nervous.”
Chen Jinfeng arched a brow, watching her without comment.
Wen Ning hastened her steps. Opposite him, a mat had already been laid out.
Seating was a matter of rank: the emperor sat on five layers, princes on three, lesser officials on two, commoners on one. Many poor folk couldn’t afford mats at all and sat directly on the ground.
She noted that the mat prepared for her was a single layer. At least it was something.
And Chen Jinfeng himself sat on a single mat as well. For a man of his status, such rules no longer bound him—he sat however he pleased.
Wen Ning approached, bowed, and knelt upon the mat, legs together, hands resting on her knees. This was the proper posture of the time. Fortunately, this body was accustomed to it; her own modern body would have quickly grown sore.
Across from her, Chen Jinfeng was far more relaxed. He had shifted from cross‑legged to resting his left leg bent, left hand draped casually over his knee, right hand loose upon the desk. His proportions were striking, and the posture lent him an air of effortless elegance, rakish charm.
Wen Ning, however, had no mind to admire him. Her eyes carefully avoided the long sword gleaming coldly upon the desk.
Tch. This man clearly hadn’t summoned her with good intentions.
He remained silent until she was seated. Then his lips curved faintly, phoenix eyes narrowing. “You… don’t seem surprised that I called you here.”