“In fact, I know Ruan Anruo doesn’t really like her cousin— she just likes taking advantage of people,” Tang Zhuojun said. “But her mother won’t believe that. Hehe. That annoying fly should finally quiet down.”
Returning a courtesy for a discourtesy— this was only the beginning.
Seeing that she’d returned unscathed, Tang Boxin finally felt relieved and left.
Tang Zhuojun was very pleased with herself. It seemed that after winning over her father, she was now on her way to winning over her elder brother as well.
They loved her too much. As long as she showed even the slightest intention to turn over a new leaf, they were willing to forgive everything she’d done before.
But Linlin was different… ah, she’d have to take it slowly.
That evening, Tang Zhuojun made braised pork intestines, pork tripe soup, and paired them with her homemade cold lotus root slices and wood ear mushrooms, then fried scallion pancakes— an abundant dinner with perfect color, aroma, and taste.
Tang Boxin returned first with Linlin, sending him back to his room to practice calligraphy, while he himself came over to watch Tang Zhuojun cook.
“Does Linlin still have to study?” Tang Zhuojun asked. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but she felt the little fellow seemed a bit unhappy after coming home today.
“He didn’t do well today, so I punished him,” Tang Boxin said.
Tang Zhuojun felt Linlin had it rough— two generations of top scholars in one family put enormous pressure on a child.
She washed a small bowl of wild strawberries she’d bought earlier from a street vendor and brought them to Linlin’s room.
Because the door was open, she didn’t knock— and caught sight of a patch of blue and purple bruises on Linlin’s arm before he could lower his sleeve.
“Why did you come in?” Linlin said coldly, with disgust.
“I brought you strawberries.” Tang Zhuojun stepped closer. “What happened to your arm?”
“None of your business.”
“Then should I call your father in to ask you?” Tang Zhuojun raised an eyebrow.
“You!” Linlin snapped angrily.
Tang Zhuojun set down the strawberries and sat beside him. “Let me see.”
Linlin resisted, remaining perfectly still.
“Brother—”
“Fine, I’ll show you! Stop pretending!” Linlin turned his head away and stuck out his arm.
Tang Zhuojun carefully rolled up his sleeve. When she saw the large bruise covering his forearm, her heart instantly ached.
“Who did this?”
There were no obvious scrapes— it didn’t look like he’d fallen. It looked more like someone had twisted him.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” she asked again.
“I don’t want to,” Linlin said grimly. “It has nothing to do with you. Stop being fake— I won’t fall for that. If you’re trying to be nice to me so my father will go easy on you, you’ve got the wrong idea.”
This brat— really not cute at all.
“Take off your clothes,” she said. She needed to check whether there were other injuries on him.
Linlin naturally refused, but when Tang Zhuojun said she would call Tang Boxin in, he ground his teeth and said, “I’ll show you, but if you tell Grandfather or Father, I—I…”
“If I tell them, I’m a puppy,” Tang Zhuojun said, finding his inability to even threaten her endearing.
Perhaps because they were bound by blood, she found her maternal instincts overflowing uncontrollably whenever she faced Linlin.
Reluctantly, Linlin took off his upper garment. Tang Zhuojun discovered several more bruises on his lower abdomen and back, but when it came to taking off his trousers, the little fellow absolutely refused.
“You were bullied at the prince’s residence, weren’t you?” Tang Zhuojun went out to tell Xiu’er to buy some medicated oil for bruises, then came back and asked.
Linlin bit his lip and stayed silent.
“If someone hits you, hit back. If you can’t win, run. If you can’t run, then admit defeat—there’s no shame in avoiding immediate harm, understand? Come back and tell your grandfather and your father. If you don’t want to tell them, tell me. We’ll help you get justice, alright?”