Qinqin hurried to fetch a sturdy mahogany chair, setting it down under the shaded porch. An Yimei smoothed her skirts and sat down, her back as straight as a ruler despite the throbbing heat on her left cheek.
Before her stood the six new senior maids, ten strong courtyard guards, and the trembling head steward from the main treasury.
Beside the steward sat a heavy wooden chest containing fifty silver taels and the delivery receipts for twenty piculs of top-grade smokeless coal. Beside the chest lay a thick leather ledger—the official three-year record of every single coin the Second Branch had stolen from the Eldest Son.
Yimei picked up the ledger with her slender fingers, flipping through the pages with calm, methodical speed.
"Steward Zhao," Yimei called out, her smooth voice cutting through the silent yard.
The head steward flinched, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched his boots. "Y-Yes, Young Madame!"
"According to these records, Second Aunt Madame Liu owes the Northern Courtyard a total of one thousand eight hundred silver taels for three years of withheld allowances," Yimei said, her dark eyes locking onto the trembling man. "Grandmother ordered this sum to be paid back in full. You will deliver six hundred silver taels to this courtyard by noon every day for the next three days."
Steward Zhao gasped, sweating profusely. "T-Three days?! Young Madame, Second Aunt’s estate will need time to gather such a large sum—"
"Three days," Yimei repeated, her tone flat and completely devoid of room for negotiation. "If the full one thousand eight hundred taels are not sitting in my storehouse by noon on the third day, I will take this ledger directly to Old Master Bai when he returns from the southern estate. I am sure the Patriarch would love to know how the household accounts were managed in his absence."
Steward Zhao’s face turned as white as a sheet. Mentioning the living Patriarch—Old Master Bai—sent a wave of terror straight through him.
"D-Daughter-in-Law’s orders shall be carried out!" Zhao squeaked frantically, bowing repeatedly. "Three days! Not a copper coin less!"
"You may leave," Yimei said casually. The steward practically ran out of the courtyard as if escaping a tiger.
Yimei turned her sharp gaze to the six senior maids and ten guards standing in rank before her.
"Listen carefully," Yimei commanded, her clear voice carrying unquestionable authority. "From today onward, the Northern Courtyard operates under my rules. I do not care which branch recommended you, nor do I care who your relatives are in the main estate. If you do your work loyally, you will be rewarded. If I catch a single one of you passing news to the other courts, I will not just beat you—I will sell you to the western quarry."
The guards and maids shuddered, feeling the cold weight of her threat. They bowed as one, shouting in unison, "We obey Young Madame’s orders!"
"Good," Yimei said, standing up from her chair. "Relocation and cleaning begin today."
She walked down the porch steps, pointing out tasks with smooth precision:
"You four," she pointed to the strongest guards, "clear out the dead bamboo and overgrown weeds in the garden. Plant fresh evergreen shrubs and winter plum trees along the stone paths. Bring this yard back to life."
"You two," she directed the senior maids, "go to the central supply hall. Replace every broken, rusty utensil in our kitchen. I want fresh porcelain bowls, copper tea kettles, and clean cooking pots delivered before dusk."
She looked around the dark, shadowy stone walls surrounding the courtyard. "Hang twelve high-grade oil lanterns along the corridors and stone arches. This yard is far too dark. By nightfall, I want every corner illuminated."
Finally, she turned to the two most polite, experienced maids among the six.
"Your sole duty is my husband’s meals," Yimei instructed strictly. "You will oversee his food from the moment it leaves the main kitchen to the moment it reaches his table. No dish enters his room without being tested first."
The two maids bowed low. "Understood, Young Madame!"
Yimei turned to Qinqin, who was watching her mistress with wide, admiring eyes.
"Qinqin," Yimei said softly.
"Yes, Miss!"
"Find the family physician who has been treating the Young Master’s legs and body," Yimei ordered, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Bring him to the Northern Courtyard before the sun sets today."
Qinqin blinked, surprised. "The physician, Miss? Is the Young Master unwell?"
"He has been confined to a cold room with poor food for three years," Yimei replied calmly, her mind calculating every detail. "If I am going to manage his courtyard, I need to know his exact medical condition, his current prescriptions, and what he can or cannot eat. We need a proper, daily meal plan tailored specifically for him."
Inside the main chamber, behind the wooden window shutters, Bai Zhengyu sat motionless in his wheelchair.
He had heard every word. He had watched her command the servants, set a strict three-day deadline for the treasury, organize the renovation, and establish security over his daily food.
And now... she was summoning his physician to pry into his health.
Guard Feng stood beside the wheelchair, his eyes wide with concern. "Young Master... Young Madame isn’t just cleaning the yard. She is completely restructuring the Northern Courtyard’s defense. She even put guards on your food and requested your physician!"
Zhengyu’s fingers tightened against the dark wood of his armrest, his knuckles turning white. His eyes remained dark, cold, and deeply guarded as he watched Yimei standing under the porch.
There was no warmth or affection in his gaze—only suspicion.
For three years, he had lived in dark, paranoid isolation, surrounded by poisonous relatives and hidden motives. He knew better than anyone that no one in the Bai Manor acted without a price.
This girl who had been slapped by his mother, mocked by his aunts, and left outside his door was moving too fast. She wasn’t acting like a timid bride; she was acting like a commander taking over a stronghold.
"A physician..." Zhengyu murmured, his voice low, flat, and dripping with icy distrust.
"Should I stop her, Young Master?" Feng asked in a hushed tone. "She is digging into your private affairs."
"No," Zhengyu said coldly, his face carved like marble. "Let her play her little game. She thinks stripping Second Aunt’s power buys her a place in my room. She thinks taking a slap from my mother makes her my ally."
He pulled back from the wooden shutter, turning his wheelchair away from the window and sinking back into the deep shadows of the room.
"She wants to inspect my food, manage my servants, and question my physician," Zhengyu sneered softly, a dangerous, freezing edge in his eyes. "She is building a cage around this courtyard. Make sure she remembers who actually owns it. If she crosses the line into my private business, throw her out."
....
Outside under the porch, An Yimei finished assigning the last pair of guards to the outer gate. The cool autumn wind brushed against her swollen left cheek, but her posture remained straight and her face unreadable.
She was just about to step toward the side room to inspect the fresh linen delivered by the maids when a sharp, frantic chime rang directly inside her head.
[SYSTEM 009 WARNING!]
[TARGET: BAI ZHENGYU]
[Favorability: -15%]
[Status: Deeply Suspicious / Highly Alert]
An Yimei paused mid-step, her dark eyes narrowing as the blue holographic interface flickered before her vision.
’Minus fifteen?’ she questioned mentally, her voice laced with sharp disbelief. ’I just brought twenty piculs of top-grade coal into his freezing courtyard, reclaimed his stolen silver, put guards on his food, and took a slap to the face from his mother. How on earth did his favorability drop into the negative numbers?’
Nine’s mechanical voice popped into her head, sounding equal parts exhausted, sarcastic, and dramatic.
[Nine: Host, did you forget who you’re dealing with? Bai Zhengyu isn’t some naive young master who falls for a pretty face and a heroic speech! He has been stuck in a wheelchair surrounded by poisonous, scheming relatives for three whole years!]
An Yimei crossed her arms over her chest, listening calmly as Nine continued its rant.
[Nine: You didn’t just clean his yard, you came in like a military commander, took over his servants, threatened the main treasury, and then summoned his personal physician to dig into his health records! To a paranoid, cold-hearted man who trusts absolutely nobody, you don’t look like a savior. You look like a dangerous, overly capable spy trying to build a cage around him!]
An Yimei stared at the dark, locked shutters of the main chamber. Through the thin gaps in the wood, she could feel his freezing, calculating gaze still lingering on her back from the shadows.
A small, amused, and dangerously sharp smile touched her lips.
’Minus fifteen percent,’ Yimei murmured in her mind, completely unfazed by the sudden drop. ’Good. A paranoid man who hates me is a man who is actively watching me. Indifference is hard to break, but suspicion? Suspicion means he’s paying attention.’
[Nine: ...I swear you get more excited the harder this mission gets. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when he sets his guards on you!]
"Miss?" Qinqin called out from down the stone path, holding a small bowl of cold water and a clean cloth. "The sun is setting, and the physician should be here soon. Should I help you apply a cold compress to your cheek first?"
"No need," Yimei replied smoothly, turning her back on the main chamber with absolute composure. "Let the physician come. We have a courtyard to run."