Xie Jinglan’s eyes darkened abruptly, the white jade thumb ring in his grip creaking under the pressure. He knew full well that the person depicted in the portrait was none other than Wen Ning.
“There is no such person in my manor. You must have been misinformed.”
Shen Lin lazily crossed his arms. “How could that be? Do you think I spent all that silver for nothing? Unless… you’re hiding a beauty away somewhere?”
He then shook his head, as if dismissing the thought. “But then again, the Marquis of An Yuan is as cold as ice—hardly the type for such romantic affairs.”
Xie Jinglan stroked his cup, casting a sidelong glance at him.
Shen Lin sighed, lamenting that he couldn’t stay longer at Hou Manor. Otherwise, he would surely have found that peerless beauty.
Xie Jinglan: See him out!
…
In the stillness of the night, Wen Ning brought the prepared medicine to the inner chamber, and Xie Jinglan had no intention of letting her leave.
Recalling Shen Lin’s words, a sour feeling churned within him. Wen Ning was right here by his side, yet countless eyes coveted her. He truly wished he could simply lock her away in his own bedchamber.
Wen Ning’s misty eyes brimmed with unshed tears, the sheen on her lips still damp as he lifted her and carried her toward the carved canopy bed.
Her pale fingers clutched the fabric of his robe at his shoulders as she whimpered and shook her head. “No… please… I beg the Marquis to let this servant go…”
Xie Jinglan gently laid her upon the bed, leaning close to her ear, his voice low and husky. “You are my antidote, my sweet remedy. How could I ever let you go…”
With a single downward glance, he could see the thin cord of her inner garment stretched taut against her shoulder and neck.
Her dark hair cascaded around her, her delicate cheeks flushed crimson. The man’s scorching breath brushed against her ear, followed by fervent kisses that trailed from her earlobe to her rosy lips, then down the slender curve of her jade-like neck…
“No… Marquis…” Her eyes, misty as water, were already shimmering with emotion.
He untied the sash around her slender waist, letting her garments fall away, revealing skin fairer than frost, captivating enough to steal one’s soul.
Xie Jinglan felt his blood surge, his reason nearly snapping like a taut string.
The curtains gently closed, the bed drapes lowered, and silk fabrics pooled silently on the floor, as if afraid to shatter the intimacy that filled the room.
At the critical moment… Xie Jinglan had no choice but to rush into the bathing chamber, dousing himself with cold water…
…
Within two days, the painting studio Shen Lin had mentioned was sealed by the authorities on charges of colluding with the black market and fencing stolen artworks.
Wen Ning’s portrait naturally fell into Xie Jinglan’s hands. As for the one in Tang Zhu’s possession, he had to retrieve it personally.
Though he called it retrieval, it was, in truth, theft. The portrait in Tang Zhu’s hands was far too explicit in style, and Xie Jinglan would not allow Wen Ning to be further shamed.
Despite his noble status as a Marquis, this was the first time Xie Jinglan had resorted to such thievery.
He slipped into Tang Zhu’s room in the dead of night, knocking him unconscious on the bed with a swift chop to the neck. When he saw the portrait hanging inside the inner curtain, he delivered another fierce kick to Tang Zhu’s chest.
Tang Zhu awoke feeling as though two more ribs had been broken, cursing the lecherous thief who had stolen his portrait!
Xie Jinglan brought the portrait back to his inner chamber. The thought of Tang Zhu defiling it with his gaze day after day only confirmed that the man’s days were numbered.
Yet he had to admit that when he saw the portrait, he too… was stirred by many improper thoughts, even a sense of resentment.
Wen Ning was his. The only one who should ever capture the true essence of her form was Xie Jinglan himself!
Just yesterday, on that same carved canopy bed in this inner chamber, his gaze had burned with intensity, nearly devouring her whole. But to honor his promise to her, Xie Jinglan had forcibly suppressed his desire, repeatedly retreating to the bathing chamber to douse himself in cold water, barely quelling the restless, raging heat within him.
He had to admit that he, too, wanted a painting of Wen Ning—one that belonged solely to him.
With this thought, Xie Jinglan went to the study, took out a silk canvas, dipped his brush in ink, and began to paint. His Adam's apple bobbed as he felt, for the first time, a sense of his own depravity.
Xie Jinglan seemed to possess an uncanny skill in painting. In the artwork, the half-loosened sash appeared to float as if stirred by an unseen breeze, revealing skin as fair and lustrous as snow. Her figure was graceful, with a slender waist and a delicate neck, exquisitely proportioned.
Even though the painting had reached a state of perfection, Xie Jinglan believed that her beauty could never be fully captured by any artwork.
Wen Ning knew nothing of the portrait. At that moment, she was in the kitchen preparing medicinal dishes for Xie Jinglan.
The events of the previous night remained vivid in her mind, and she had yet to fully recover from them. Her face had been flushed all day.
Xie Jinglan had told her the night before that she would no longer work in the kitchen and would henceforth reside in Tingsong Courtyard.
She still remembered her mother’s dying words, repeated over and over: "Better to be the wife of a poor man than the concubine of a wealthy one."
Her mother had spent her entire life as an unofficial mistress, often filled with self-pity and melancholy, and she was determined not to let her daughter follow the same path.
But what had she done now?
She had lost her innocence, become pregnant, turned into a widow, and now she was entangled with the Marquis in an ambiguous relationship!
Wen Ning felt as though four words hung over her head at all times: "Shameless and without virtue." They loomed like a sharp sword above her, making her afraid to lift her eyes.
When dinnertime arrived, Wen Ning brought the prepared dishes to the study.
There was Bamboo Fungus Duck Soup, Steamed Reeves' Shad, Crab Roe Tofu, Jade Belt Shrimp, and she had also made Water Shield Soup.
Xie Jinglan was standing before the desk, gazing intently at his painting. When Wen Ning entered, he quickly rolled up the silk canvas.
He felt a mix of guilt and a secret delight.
Wen Ning still felt somewhat uneasy upon seeing Xie Jinglan.
"Marquis, it's time for dinner."
Xie Jinglan slowly took his seat at the dining table and then pulled her into his embrace.
"Shall I assign two maidservants to you? That way, you won’t have to bother with these trivial tasks."
Wen Ning looked at him with clear eyes. "Then what should this servant do?"
Xie Jinglan lifted her chin, a faint smile playing on his lips. "What do you think…"
Wen Ning immediately understood the implication behind his words. Her face flushed slightly as she gently declined, "There’s no need, Marquis. This servant quite enjoys working in the kitchen."
Wen Ning knew well that the Marquis was merely indulging in a fleeting fascination with her. Once this novelty wore off, she would be able to leave Tingsong Courtyard and perhaps even find an opportunity to escape Hou Manor.
For now, she simply needed to maintain her proper place. A servant was a servant—how could she allow others to serve her instead?
She stood up and served Xie Jinglan a bowl of Bamboo Fungus Duck Soup. The fragrance of the mushrooms blended with the savory duck, and the medicinal aroma infused the dish.
Xie Jinglan looked puzzled. "Is this a medicinal dish?"
Wen Ning nodded. "Last time, I heard Qing Feng mention that the Marquis had been poisoned before. Although the poison was neutralized at the time, some residue remained in your body, causing frequent discomfort."
"Too much talk!"
After criticizing Qing Feng, Xie Jinglan seemed to recall something and tentatively asked Wen Ning, "Did he… tell you how the poison was neutralized?"
Wen Ning shook her head. "No."
That was good. Otherwise, Xie Jinglan would have been tempted to beat Qing Feng to death.
"How did the Marquis neutralize it?" Her eyes were clear, filled with a curiosity as gentle as a spring stream.
Xie Jinglan felt as though he had been caught doing something wrong. He feigned nonchalance and said, "It was a prescription from a physician."
He then changed the subject. "You know how to prepare medicinal dishes. Did you study it?"
Wen Ning seemed to open up at Xie Jinglan's question. "This servant used to live on a farmstead, and next door was a lame physician. His right leg was sound, but his left leg seemed as if its bones had been removed, curled up limply—truly pitiful.
Seeing he had neither children nor family, this servant often brought him food, and so we became acquainted through these exchanges. Because his foot ailment made it difficult for him to walk mountain paths, he taught this servant the art of identifying medicinal herbs. Whenever herbs were needed, this servant would go into the mountains to gather them. Sometimes the harvest was plentiful, and this servant would take them to the medicine shop to exchange for some copper coins or loose silver.
That lame physician later became this servant's master. This servant often followed the master in taking pulses and diagnosing illnesses, and over time, learned a bit of the basics. But compared to the master, this servant probably hasn't even reached half of his medical skill."
As Wen Ning spoke, her eyes seemed to shimmer with scattered starlight, bright and sparkling, even the corners of her eyes curling into a playful arc—a side of her Xie Jinglan had never seen before.