He Carries a Bowl of Medicine Inside
His flippant, casual words poured into Ming Ying’s ears, and her heart suddenly turned cold.
She no longer had the fawning manner of the past, only offering a bleak smile: “I fear I have delayed your important matters—this servant is at fault.”
Pei Xiaoyun detected the soft thorns in her words. Instead of growing angry, he followed her lead: “There’s nothing important. I just wanted to see you.”
Recalling how long she had been with him, she had never asked him for anything—except for the matter of the child, which she had begged for bitterly.
There was indeed some responsibility on his part in this.
If she wanted to prick him with her words, then let her vent a little. Once she slowly came to her senses, what needed to be done would still have to be done.
When the dishes were all served, he personally ladled a bowl of soup and placed it before her.
As he stood up to serve the soup, Ming Ying was enveloped by his immense shadow, and her breath unconsciously hitched slightly.
She knew his temperament. His willingness to coax her was merely a passing whim. If she still refused to step down from this height, she would be a fool.
She picked up the bowl, spooning the soup into her mouth sip by sip. The steam from the hot soup wafted against her face, bringing a faint blush to her cheeks.
Pei Xiaoyun placed a piece of walnut-diced pheasant in her bowl. Watching her face, he said gently, “Your complexion looks better than a few days ago. The physician said you can stop taking that medicine once you finish this dose.”
“Cough, cough, cough!” Ming Ying choked violently on the soup, coughing until the corners of her eyes flushed red.
His words were undoubtedly a cold and dangerous reminder.
She suddenly realized she was nothing but a piece of meat on a chopping block, at the mercy of others.
This feeling was more agonizing than a slow death.
Her fingers went slack, the chopsticks clattering to the floor. She threw herself into his arms, weeping bitterly, still pleading for that one thing.
But what awaited her was his usual reply: “Be obedient. Be good.”
Several days later, news spread that Duke Qu had died of illness in the prison of the Dali Temple. In the Guogongfu, some rejoiced while others grieved.
The Old Madam took to her bed, her breath shallow and labored, sustained only by medicinal soups.
Lady Lan, meanwhile, styled her hair into a high chignon, dipped her fingertips in rouge, and painted her lips a vivid red: “I wondered why the magpies were chirping so joyfully early this morning—it turns out there was good news.”
They had waited and waited, and finally, he was dead.
With his death, Jing’er would soon inherit the title. Their efforts had not been in vain—she and her son had finally endured to the end.
“Madam! Madam!”
Nanny Tian rushed in frantically, tripped over the threshold, and fell, her face bruised and swollen.
“Something terrible has happened, Madam!”
“Why are you in such a panic?” Lady Lan asked displeased.
Nanny Tian trembled all over in fear: “Second Master… Second Master has been carried back…”
Lady Lan’s face filled with suspicion. She hurried outside and saw the stretcher lying in the center of the courtyard. Her heart sank. Lifting the white cloth, she took one look and immediately fainted from shock.
The officers from the Military Patrol Office who carried the stretcher said that early that morning, a body had been found floating in the moat beside the Hongyu Quarter. When they fished it out, they saw it was the heir of Duke Qu’s household. Checking for a pulse, they found he had long since stopped breathing, so they hastily brought him back.
The household reported it to the authorities, who investigated for over ten days. The officials concluded that he had gotten drunk, stumbled into the river by accident, and drowned.
Lady Lan, having lost her youngest son, spent her days weeping, her entire being like a dried-up well.
The main courtyard was shrouded in gloom and sorrow.
“Madam, Eldest Master is here,” Nanny Tian reported cautiously.
Lady Lan, lying on the couch, suddenly glared with eyes wide with fury, her gaze filled with intense hatred: “What is he doing here? I won’t see him!”
No sooner had she spoken than Pei Xiaoyun barged in with his men.
Through the beaded curtain, his voice carried a hint of mockery: "I didn't come here to see you, Mother. I just searched Second Brother's courtyard but couldn't find the jade seal from the investiture ceremony. Could it be that you're keeping it for him? With the whole family now consisting of the elderly, weak, women, and children, someone needs to take charge. You'd better hand it over yourself."
Upon hearing these words, Lady Lan understood everything. She flew into a frenzy, smashing things as she spat out venomously: "It's you! So this is your scheme—first plotting to have your father imprisoned, then harming your own brother. You are disloyal and unfilial, utterly devoid of conscience! How dare you ask for the jade seal? Why isn't it you who died?!"
Pei Xiaoyun's gaze darkened, a fire burning within him from the inside out. His expression turned stormy, foreboding like an impending tempest.
"As you wish, Mother, I've already died once before. This time is the chance I've given myself—I need not show mercy to anyone."
When he returned to this household, he had declared that no one here would live in peace.
"Will you hand it over yourself, or shall I have someone search for it?" He frowned slightly, his voice tinged with anger.
"Does that belong to you?" Lady Lan sneered. "Are you worthy of it?"
It was as if she could see another detestable face through him.
He resembled his father too much—so much that even a glance filled her with loathing.
They were equally cold-hearted, equally insatiable. How could they be worthy?
Pei Xiaoyun let out a derisive laugh, sharp and icy beneath the surface.
He wasn't worthy? So he was only fit to suffer torment in Zhaozui Temple while they enjoyed their happy family life?
"Whether I'm worthy or not is for me to decide." The corners of his lips curled slightly, his dark eyes unfathomable. "Even if it didn't belong to me before, it's mine now."
"Men, search the place. Search thoroughly."
"No! That's not yours—it belongs to my Jing'er!" Lady Lan grew frantic, tumbling clumsily from the couch and clutching desperately at a servant's leg. "That's not yours! Someone, help!"
The more Pei Xiaoyun listened, the darker his eyes grew.
Lady Lan's shrieks pierced his eardrums, and something seemed to stir in his memory. A throbbing pain shot through his forehead as a blazing fury consumed him.
The room was turned upside down in the search. The servants standing by, observing the situation, knew that from now on, the Eldest Master would be in charge. Despite Lady Lan's cries, none dared step forward.
"Eldest Master, we've found it."
A smooth, lustrous jade seal was placed in Pei Xiaoyun's hand. He glanced at it briefly, satisfied, and prepared to leave. Before departing, he reminded her: "Take good care of yourself, Mother. The imperial decree of investiture will arrive soon. You mustn't fall ill."
Lady Lan collapsed on the floor, watching him leave as she clutched a shard of broken tile, her palm bleeding profusely.
The crimson spread to her eyes, turning everything in sight into a grotesque and terrifying scene.
After the funeral, Lady Lan remained despondent for several days before mustering her spirits. Early one morning, she busied herself tending to a pot of flowers.
Her fingers brushed against a large, vibrant red blossom on a branch. A flicker of darkness passed through her eyes as she snapped the branch and crushed it mercilessly.
So what if he became the heir or even the Duke? In front of others, wouldn't he still have to play the role of a filial son to her?
After all, he had come from her womb. No one knows a son better than his mother. She refused to believe she had no means to deal with him!
He had caused Jing'er's death—she would make sure he never lived in peace either!
The gardeners brought in several pots of crabapple flowers, placing them steadily along the corridor.
The flowers were well-tended, and the women who moved them received tips from Nanny Tian, thanking the household before preparing to leave.
"Stop," Lady Lan called out to one of them.
The woman in purple was left alone, trembling as she bowed. "What does Madam wish to instruct?"
Lady Lan took a sip of tea and glanced at her. "I heard you have a daughter working in Lanqing Zhuoyuan?"
After a moment of unease, the purple-clad woman answered truthfully, "Yes, Madam."
"What is her name?" Lady Lan straightened up with interest.
"Ling Shuang."
When Pei Xiaoyun was away, Ming Ying would sit on the steps to bask in the sun, staying there the entire day.
From the rising sun to its setting, she could even count every leaf that fell from the trees.
The tonic medicines had been stopped for several days now. She didn’t know where he had found such remedies, but after taking them for a while, her body no longer felt weary or fatigued, and her complexion had become rosy and radiant.
In the past, when she fell ill, she would only take a few pills that didn’t quite suit her condition, relying entirely on her own endurance to pull through. She had never taken anything as good as this before. Now, she was fortunate enough to receive such miraculous medicines.
But what use was a healthy body? She could feel the child growing inside her bit by bit, yet she couldn’t give birth to it—she had to harm it.
She wished time would freeze at this very moment.
She often sat idly in the courtyard, indifferent to the maids whispering behind her back, until she saw Ling Shuang return, and only then did she blink her eyes.
"Sister Ling Shuang, where have you been? I haven’t seen you all day." No one in the courtyard knew about her pregnancy; she had only secretly told Ling Shuang.
When Ling Shuang was around, she would sit and talk with her, offering comfort and reassurance.
Ling Shuang had just returned from outside, her expression somewhat off as she suppressed her ragged breathing. "My mother fell ill, so I went to see her."
Hearing her mention her mother, Ming Ying’s nose tingled with emotion. "Is your mother feeling better now?"
"Much, much better." Ling Shuang sat down beside her, worry churning in her eyes.
"Spring is here, and the weather is warming up. When will you ask Eldest Master to release you from your service?" Ming Ying couldn’t help but ask, even though she dreaded the separation.
Counting down the days was better than a sudden farewell.
Occasionally, she envied Ling Shuang—having both parents, a family together, and a cousin who loved her wholeheartedly. Once released from service, she could live an ordinary life.
Even a simple meal of coarse tea and plain rice was far better than the delicacies within these vermilion gates. Those were poisons; tasting them too often would make it impossible to survive.
She no longer wanted Pei Xiaoyun’s attention.
She even hoped he would grow to despise her and drive her away.
Ling Shuang held her hand, forcing a smile. "My cousin hasn’t made the arrangements yet. I’ll leave in a few days."
She might never be able to leave.
Two cold hands overlapped, but even as they pressed and rubbed together, they couldn’t generate the slightest warmth.
"And what about you? What will you do?" Only when they were alone did Ling Shuang speak in a hoarse, tearful voice. "Plead with Eldest Master again. Perhaps he’ll soften."
Ming Ying wept silently. "It’s useless, useless."
She had kowtowed to him in tears, yet he remained unmoved.
"Do you know how Yu Zhong died?" She spoke word by word to Ling Shuang, her voice fading away by the end.
Ling Shuang listened in terror, thinking of herself and Ming Ying’s predicament. They were like two mayflies, utterly helpless.
"I had thought, if Eldest Master would also release you, we could leave together…"
How wonderful that would have been.
But things never go as one wishes.
In the darkness, only two thin, frail shadows lay on the ground.
Unable to bear the cold wind, Ming Ying returned to her room and picked up a book to read.
After studying with Pei Xiaoyun for several years, she rarely encountered characters she did not recognize. The thought of him mocking her for her lack of literary refinement while still wanting to raise a child brought a wave of bitterness to her heart.
She needed to read more books and write more characters, so that when the child was born, she could teach them too.
She wondered whether it would be a boy or a girl.
She had already begun imagining what the child would look like and what name to give them.
But these thoughts were hers alone to ponder.
Later, as she was deeply engrossed in her reading, she heard a maid outside call out "Eldest Master," and she knew he had returned.
In the days since she had regained her health, every time she heard him return, a chill would instantly spread through her limbs.
She intended to put down her book and pretend to be asleep, but he had already lifted the curtain and entered.
The wide, gold-threaded hem of his cloud-patterned robe swept in with a gust of wind. His demeanor was as composed as ever, but in his hand, he carried a bowl of medicine.
Her heart raced, and the book in her hand fell to the floor.
Author's Note:
Starting today! No more suffering through every-other-day updates! From now on, updates will be posted promptly at 8 p.m. every night. If there are any special circumstances, I'll take leave in advance. Everyone, come read on time every day, leave plenty of comments, and please don't let this story go unnoticed [crying][crying]