For Qi Mian, daytime in the villa was nothing more than a few ghostly shadows appearing before her eyes.
When she woke up, Tu Ye was no longer by her side. She could only feel her way out of bed. Qi Mian wanted to wash up, so she moved slowly and cautiously, finally making her way to the bedroom door with great difficulty.
She pushed open the door, and Butler Chen’s ghostly, elusive voice suddenly rang out.
“If you’re awake, I’ll take you to wash up, and then we’ll have breakfast.”
Butler Chen’s raspy voice carried a hint of reluctance, as if he’d been forced against his will to attend to her first thing in the morning. Qi Mian nervously pursed her lips; after all, since she couldn’t see, she had no choice but to agree.
“Thank you.”
No sooner had her polite thanks fallen than someone yanked her arm forcefully. She stumbled forward a step, feeling a dull ache in her arm, but Butler Chen showed no intention of being considerate; he simply led her forward.
Does he dislike her that much? Qi Mian couldn’t help but wonder as she followed in small, tentative steps. Was there some special reason for this?
“This is the bathroom. You’re free to use anything inside. I’ll wait for you out here.”
Qi Mian was led around a corner and stopped not long after. She silently memorized the location, then stepped inside without a word.
After some fumbling, Qi Mian finished brushing her teeth and washing her face. But just as she reached for the comb, she seemed to brush against something sharp, causing her to flinch back.
[Oh no, you’re bleeding, Host! There’s a small metal sculpture here with some sharp edges—be careful. I’ll point out the spot for you.] San San let out a startled cry before quickly offering her verbal assistance.
Qi Mian rinsed the wound briefly and finally finished her morning routine with San San’s help.
“Um… where’s Tu Ye?” She slowly walked out of the bathroom and quietly asked Butler Chen, who had been waiting by the door—a tall, slender figure standing before her, presumably Butler Chen.
“He’s gone to work.”
Wasn’t Tu Ye a painter? Did he really need to go to work this early? Qi Mian didn’t ask any further questions and, once again, made her way downstairs, half-dragged and half-supported by Butler Chen.
He happened to grip the spot on her arm where she’d been cut, and Qi Mian furrowed her brow slightly.
[This guy has absolutely no idea how to treat a lady with care. Host, he saw the cut on your arm and still gripped it like that—he deserves to have his face disfigured.] San San said indignantly.
Qi Mian was a bit surprised: [Disfigurement?]
San San replied: [Yeah, Butler Chen’s whole face is covered in scars from burns. Good thing you can’t see them—otherwise, you’d definitely be so scared you’d have nightmares!]
Qi Mian wasn’t actually afraid, but for some reason, she thought of the scar on Tu Ye’s face that she’d felt the night before.
That scar wasn’t caused by a burn; from the feel of it, she thought it must have been made by a sharp object.
“Breakfast is right in front of you. Let me know if you need anything.”
After walking a short distance, Qi Mian was guided to a chair and seated. Butler Chen spoke in a cold, businesslike tone, then fell silent.
The dining hall was so quiet that all she could hear was her own breathing and the crisp clinking of metal as the knife and fork touched the table. Feeling somewhat out of her element, Qi Mian picked up the cutlery and began eating her breakfast.
Butler Chen had clearly not taken into account that she was blind; the food had all been placed in the center of the table. She had to stretch out her left hand to feel where the plate was, then reach for it with her right.
[Hmm, this is a crystal bun—I can take it. Wait a minute—that’s piping-hot congee.]
“Ah!”
Qi Mian yanked her hand back abruptly, letting out a short gasp of surprise. She’d touched the outer wall of the ceramic congee bowl, and the searing, tingling pain at her fingertips made her bite her lip.
“Is there any cold water? Can I rinse my hand off?”
No response.
[Wow, he’s standing right next to you, watching you grope around for things without helping—and now he’s ignoring you!] San San shouted, [Don’t be afraid, Host. Once you’ve won over the villain, have the villain punish him!]
He’d just said a moment ago that she could tell him if she needed anything, so Qi Mian felt a sudden pang of resentment. She blew on her fingertips—she was sure blisters were forming.
With her fingers burned and her vision still impaired, Qi Mian lost her appetite. She ate only two steamed buns before signaling that she was done.
It wasn’t until then that Butler Chen paid her any attention again.
“Your designated areas are the first and second floors. Do not go into other areas. Call me if you need anything.”
Qi Mian silently grumbled to herself that calling him wouldn’t do any good even if she needed something, but she didn’t want to just sit there staring into space. So, under San San’s guidance, she began exploring the villa—she needed to familiarize herself with the layout as soon as possible.
[You’ve touched a massive reindeer skull. There’s a display case to your left; be careful not to bump into it.]
Qi Mian withdrew her hand; the reindeer antlers felt a bit strange to the touch. If only she could see them.
She cautiously made her way through the villa, touching one room and object after another. After what felt like an eternity, Qi Mian heard the click of a door opening.
[Yay, Tu Ye’s back!] San San cheered.
Qi Mian turned her head, her unfocused eyes scanning toward the source of the sound, but the distance was too great to make out a figure.
“What are you doing?” Tu Ye’s deep voice rang out.
A look of delight spread across Qi Mian’s face. Unable to contain her excitement, she quickened her pace toward him, reaching out with both hands to touch Tu Ye: Husband, you’re back?”
The inevitable result, of course, was that she tripped over the bearskin rug on the floor once again.
[Walk slower, Host.]
Qi Mian sank into the soft bearskin; the fall didn’t hurt at all. Just as she was feeling embarrassed and about to get up, she heard footsteps approaching, and then she was “lifted” to her feet—the scent of cedar washed over her once more.
“Walk slower.” Tu Ye said plainly.
Qi Mian held onto his arm, which he hadn’t withdrawn yet. The warm, smooth texture told her he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt. She smiled softly: “Where did you go?”
Tu Ye’s hand rested on the ends of her silky hair. His voice betrayed no emotion as he gave the same answer as Butler Chen: “Work.”
Qi Mian nodded in understanding, though her dark, luminous eyes were actually fixed on the man’s collarbone: “Is it time for lunch?”
Tu Ye gave a soft “mm-hmm,” took her hand, and led her toward the dining table. After just a few steps, his stride faltered.
Qi Mian felt the pads of his fingers gently brush against her arm; the unfamiliar warmth made her arm tremble slightly.
“How did this happen?” Tu Ye asked in a calm voice.
Qi Mian blushed and lowered her head. “Since I can’t see, I accidentally bumped into something…” She unconsciously began tugging at the nightgown she hadn’t yet changed out of.
She hadn’t tugged at it for long when her right hand was taken in his.
“Did you hurt your finger, too?”
Qi Mian hesitated before nodding. “Yeah, I got a little burned, but it’s okay.”
Tu Ye remained silent. The lack of a response from the man seemed to make Qi Mian a little anxious; she reached out haphazardly and half-embraced his lean waist.
“I’m sorry, I can’t see, so I’m a little…” Qi Mian’s voice grew fainter and fainter, until it was almost a sob. She seemed to be afraid of something—but what? Tu Ye watched her, waiting for her to finish.
“…Please don’t look down on me. I’ll adjust to life here as soon as possible, and then I’ll be able to help you with your work.” Qi Mian’s eyes were red-rimmed, and her pretty little face was streaked with pitiful tear marks. “I can cook for you, and I can also—”
Tu Ye interrupted her: “Was Butler Chen by your side when you were eating?”
As he spoke, he wiped the tears from Qi Mian’s face just like the first time they met—a gesture that still conveyed little warmth.
Qi Mian froze for a moment. She sensed a cold, piercing gaze directed at her from another direction; she knew it was Butler Chen.
The black-haired girl shrank back in distress, pressing herself closer to the person she wanted to lean on. Though she hesitated for a moment, she finally spoke softly.
“Yes, he’s there.”