Ming Ying practically fled in panic.
Only after running all the way back to the courtyard did she gasp for breath, her mouth hanging open.
The two figures from earlier lingered before her eyes, mingled with his indifferent, displeased words, together crushing the faint, inappropriate longing in her heart.
That lady was likely County Mistress Jianing, Pei Xiaoyun’s fiancée.
Truly a perfect match—a talented gentleman and a beautiful lady. Someone like her, standing beside them, really did seem like a mere servant.
The flames under the stove flared up again, the tea’s fragrance no longer delicate but instead carrying a charred bitterness. In the short time she had been away, the boiled osmanthus had wilted, turning brownish-yellow, with a few stray leaves splashed out with the tea.
The over-brewed osmanthus dew tea was bitter—he wouldn’t like drinking it.
She poured the tea into the flowerbed beneath the window, as if she had never brewed this pot of tea today.
She recalled his instructions when he left in the morning, telling her to stay in the courtyard and not wander off. So it was because he feared she might offend his fiancée and disrupt his plans.
Dusk deepened, a cold wind blowing against her face and nose. She coughed a few times, her eyes slightly reddened.
Had he brought her into the mansion early only to keep her as a shameful object, hidden away in the backyard forever?
And what about later? He doted so much on the County Mistress. Once she entered the household, how would he dispose of her?
Day turned to night, and lanterns were lit in the courtyard again.
His promise to return early was easily forgotten.
After all, everyone loves to spend time with their beloved—no one is an exception.
She ate a few hasty bites of food and entered his bedroom to scent his clothes when she finally heard his footsteps.
He seemed to have been drinking—a faint scent of alcohol drifted in the air, along with… a trace of light powder fragrance.
The night was chilly. She skillfully picked up the clothes he often wore and walked toward him, but, still haunted by the day’s events, she dared not look at him. "Young Master."
Pei Xiaoyun glanced at her indifferently, his lips parting. "Get out."
County Princess Jianing, Xiao Fuying, was the only daughter of Prince Yi, who held military power. The Crown Prince intended for him to marry Xiao Fuying. The engagement was already settled, and she had come to the mansion to visit, so he took the opportunity to accompany her.
But he hadn’t expected to run into Ming Ying.
He wasn’t angry that Ming Ying’s sudden appearance had embarrassed Xiao Fuying—he could handle that. He was angry that she had repeatedly disobeyed him.
Since arriving in the capital, she hadn’t been as obedient as she was in Yangzhou.
He believed he couldn’t bear to punish her; every time he saw her tear-filled eyes, he would soften.
It seemed it was time to teach her properly whose words she should heed.
That "Get out" sent a chill through Ming Ying’s entire body, as if she had fallen into an icy cellar.
She set down his clothes and stood outside the door.
He was angry.
Angry that her deliberate appearance had disrupted their intimate moment. Yet how could she dare offer a single word of explanation—to explain that it wasn’t intentional?
Fortunately, she had anticipated this and had worn a thick padded jacket early on, so keeping watch through the night wouldn’t be as cold.
After a long while, a weary voice came from the room. "Fetch water for my bath."
A light returned to Ming Ying’s eyes, her drowsiness instantly vanishing as she prepared to go.
But she was stopped by another cold command from him. "Ling Shuang, you go."
Ling Shuang beside her was incredulous. Miss Ming was right outside the door—why would the Eldest Master call her to serve him personally? She glanced at Ming Ying, who hung her head in silence, her eyes and brows looking as if they could squeeze out tears at any moment.
Not daring to delay, Ling Shuang immediately lifted the curtain and entered.
After fetching the water, Ling Shuang came out. She stood for a moment before Pei Xiaoyun called her in again to grind ink.
That night was truly beyond belief.
Ming Ying looked up at the clear moon in the sky, a chill coiling around her heart. Though she had dressed warmly enough that day, she still felt bitterly cold.
Pei Xiaoyun crumpled a handful of discarded papers and threw them out.
He simply wasn’t used to being attended by Ling Shuang. Though Ling Shuang was steady and spoke little, she could never compare to Ming Ying’s understanding.
“You may leave.”
He stared at the motionless shadow outside the door, his gaze darkening with a simmering anger.
Since she refused to come in and admit her mistake, he need not feel sorry for her.
In the following days, he never called Ming Ying to serve him closely.
The servants in the courtyard, quick to sense the wind’s direction, spread rumors that Ming Ying had fallen out of favor. Yu Zhong even stood right outside her window, hurling insults.
Ming Ying’s illness lingered on and off, never quite improving. After swallowing a few pills, she drifted into a heavy, half-day slumber, only mustering a bit of energy by evening.
“Just go and admit your mistake. The Eldest Master dotes on you so much—if you yield a little, won’t he still care for you?” Ling Shuang tried to comfort her.
Ming Ying coughed until her eyes reddened, leaning quietly against the headboard as her thoughts drifted in a haze.
Doted on?
It was favor, not love.
Favor was worthless—today’s affection could be discarded tomorrow.
Back when it was just the two of them, he had treated her well. But once they returned to the capital, he would have a family, and in the future, he would have children with someone else. What was she, then?
Besides, unless he asked first, he never cared to hear her explanations.
Still lacking energy, she sent Ling Shuang away.
Three days later, in the early morning, officers from the Court of Judicial Review stormed into the mansion and arrested Duke Qu.
As soon as Pei Xiaoyun entered the Hall of Glory and Honor, he heard the Old Madam’s wails, while his mother, Lady Lan, sat silently nearby, dabbing her eyes with a silk handkerchief.
Yet despite wiping for a long time, not a single tear fell.
Seeing him enter, the Old Madam grabbed his sleeve and sobbed, “Eldest Son, you now serve in the Court of Judicial Review and are a trusted confidant of the Eastern Palace. You must find a way to save your father!”
Pei Xiaoyun leisurely pulled back his sleeve, his gaze indifferent and faintly amused. “Father has the fortune of heaven on his side. Even Mother isn’t anxious—why is Grandmother in such a hurry?”
Caught off guard by the mention, Lady Lan instantly squeezed out a few tears. “What are you saying, Eldest Son? As a mere woman, what use is my anxiety? Doesn’t it all depend on you to manage things?”
Inwardly, she sneered—it would be best if that old fool died. With him gone, her Jing’er could inherit the title sooner.
The Old Madam suddenly glared fiercely at Pei Xiaoyun. “No matter what, he is still your father. As his son, how can you stand by and do nothing? Have you no gratitude?”
“Stand by and do nothing? No gratitude?”
Pei Xiaoyun’s gaze turned icy enough to cut through flesh, his throat choking with cold laughter.
“Back when you all drugged me and sent me to the Temple of Atonement to suffer a living hell, did he ever consider me his son?” His eyes shifted to Lady Lan, his lips curving into a sinister arc. “Mother, did you ever consider it?”
The hall fell silent as the servants, recognizing the discomfort, discreetly withdrew.
What happened back then was a taboo no one dared mention.
Lady Lan shifted uneasily, her expression flickering. “Wh-why bring that up now? It’s all in the past. Besides, haven’t you returned safely?”
Pei Xiaoyun glanced sideways at his mother and grandmother, bound to him by blood, his eyes glinting with a fathomless chill.
Back then, he was only nineteen, following the Third Prince to the Northwest to repel the enemy.
The third prince harbored wolfish ambitions, diverting provisions and military supplies from the Dingbei Army to raise private soldiers, leading to insufficient supplies on the front lines and repeated defeats. Yet this prince of Dajing, terrified by the barbarians, fled all the way back to the capital.
It was he who led the remaining troops in a bloody battle for two months, defending the six northwestern regions.
Everyone said that upon his triumphant return, he would surely be rewarded by the emperor, perhaps even granted a noble title or appointed as a high minister. But when he returned to the capital covered in wounds, he found himself wanted everywhere, accused of embezzling provisions and colluding with the enemy to betray the country…
It turned out that the old emperor, unwilling to punish the third prince, had made him the universally despised scapegoat to cover up his son’s crimes.
At that time, no one believed him.
He secretly returned to his estate, hoping his father would submit a memorial to defend him. But that night, he was drugged with a cup of tea. In his daze, he overheard his father and mother talking.
They said it was best to send him to confess his crimes early—sacrificing him alone would spare the entire family.
So, he was the one who could be casually discarded.
So, his mother’s lifelong dislike for him was not an illusion.
When he opened his eyes again, he was bound in Zhaozui Temple. They demanded he confess to the crimes. When he refused, he was subjected to brutal torture and poisoned.
The poison in his body was inflicted then.
Two years—two full years of utter darkness.
He was neither human nor ghost, living a fate worse than death.
He did not want to die, so he agreed to work for the crown prince. Only then did he keep his life and leave Zhaozui Temple, heading to Yangzhou…
Outside, the sky was bright, the morning mist veiling his eyes with a layer of icy frost.
"Yes, I have returned safely now."
He looked at Lady Lan, each word sharp as a blade: "From now on, no one in this household will have an easy time."
Pei Xiaoyun deliberately left Ming Ying alone for a few days, having heard she was gravely ill.
In truth, he had heard she had fallen ill again a few days prior. He thought she would recover, but she had not risen from her bed for a single day.
Leaving her in the cold for a few days, he assumed she should have realized her mistake by now.
The room in the west wing was specifically reserved for her, with the flowerbed beneath the window filled with camellias she loved.
Entering the room, he found her curled up under the blankets.
She was not asleep, just shifting restlessly. Her sleeping habits were poor; she always stole his blankets at night, yet she believed herself to be quite proper.
He sat on the edge of her bed and patted the shifting mound of blankets. "Moving around like that—how can the bedding stay warm?"
Ming Ying startled, letting out a short cry. Her voice was slightly hoarse yet sweet.
She peeked out from under the covers. "Young Master, why have you come?"
She could not deny it—her heart still raced when he was this close. Counting the days, it had been five since she last saw him. She had thought she was dreaming.
Pei Xiaoyun touched her forehead; the fever had subsided.
He deliberately wrapped her tightly in the blankets, leaving only her small, flushed face exposed, like a soft, glutinous pastry that would yield to the slightest touch.
"Did you take your medicine?"
Ming Ying nodded. "I did."
"Is there nothing you wish to say to me?" Though he considered her illness, it did not mean he had forgotten the incident from that day.
Finally giving her the chance, Ming Ying explained everything to him in detail, saying she had not intentionally left the courtyard that day.
As if infected by her softness and gentleness, Pei Xiaoyun’s expression gradually softened. He pinched her warm, soft earlobe. "You waited until today to say this?"
A faint smile bloomed on Ming Ying’s face as she buried it in the crook of his arm, her voice slightly muffled. "You didn’t ask, and I was afraid you would be angry. I didn’t dare speak."
Looking at her delicate appearance, Pei Xiaoyun curved his lips into a smile.
His Mian'er, obedient and adorable, not particularly brave, and easily appeased, was naturally meant to be tethered by his side, not allowed to go anywhere.
He took out a small square box from his sleeve, his slender fingertips flicking open the clasp to reveal a crystal-clear jade begonia bracelet.
"This was given to me by a colleague at today's banquet. They said it's jade from the Western Regions. I thought it suited you, so I'm giving it to you to wear."
Like a cat, rewarded with a handful of dried fish, she would come close again.
The cool jade bracelet slipped onto Ming Ying's wrist, like a clear, sweet spring flowing into her heart, reviving the parched, cracked earth.
This was his way of coaxing her into happiness.
He still held some affection for her.
But once the County Mistress entered the household, would such rare treasures still be given to her first?
The skies cleared, and Ming Ying's illness improved somewhat.
The servants in the courtyard, seeing her back in favor, no longer dared to neglect her and spoke to her in soft, gentle tones.
She carried several pots of camellias soaked by the rain to dry in the sun. A few of the flowers had been blown off by the wind, and the soil had loosened.
She took a small shovel, dug fresh soil, and replanted them one by one.
If the weather stayed fine for a few more days, they could still survive.
A young maid who had entered through the back gate ran up to her. "Miss Ming, someone is looking for you at the back gate. They say they know you."
Ming Ying frowned, puzzled. Who could be looking for her?
After a moment's thought, she washed her hands with a basin of water and headed toward the back gate.
As she reached the back gate and looked around, a man in brown robes leaning against the doorframe, pretending to doze, eagerly approached. "Good sister, it's me."
Ming Ying recognized her adoptive brother and sighed, taking a few steps back. "What are you here for again?"
The man's expression darkened as he circled her a few times, taunting, "Tsk, tsk, look at all this gold and silver you're wearing. Such a respectable, wealthy household surely wouldn't be ungrateful. My mother is still ill, with no money for medicine. Shouldn't you contribute something?"
Back then, his mother had taken her in but sold her off due to poverty. Who would have thought she'd have such luck, learning some seductive tricks and even catching the eye of a master from Guogongfu?
"Didn't I give you money that day at Baimasi?" Ming Ying said coldly.
"Two strings of cash are nowhere near enough," the man retorted. "My mother raised you for a year. Even if she sold you, it was out of desperation. Besides, without that year, you would have starved to death. Now that she's sick, and you're living in luxury with your master, surely you can't just stand by and watch her die?"
Not wanting to provoke him, Ming Ying turned to leave. "I have no money left. Don't come looking for me again."
She had already done more than enough for their family.
The man shouted after her, "If you have no money, then I'll go ask your master for it. It's the Eldest Master of the household, right? I'll wait for him at the gate."
"Stop."
Ming Ying halted in her tracks.
Pei Xiaoyun had already been so angry just knowing she had met someone at Baimasi.
How could she dare let him go ask Pei Xiaoyun for money?
Seeing her yield, the man softened his tone and pleaded, "I knew you were kind-hearted. My mother is truly bedridden, otherwise I wouldn't have bothered you."
Ming Ying didn't have much cash on hand. She rarely went out, and the gifts Pei Xiaoyun gave her were mostly jewelry. Asking her for money again, she truly had none to give.
"I really have no money left."
"Are these trinkets of yours not worth more than silver? Just give me one to pawn for a couple of days. Once I get the money to buy medicine, I'll redeem it and return it to you right away." As he spoke, the man reached for the jade bracelet with a begonia pattern on Ming Ying's wrist.
"This one won't do!" Ming Ying held it protectively, hesitating for a long moment before finally pulling out a simple, elegant hairpin and handing it to him. "This is all I have. You must return it to me in two days."
This hairpin was one Pei Xiaoyun had given her long ago—unassuming and not eye-catching. As long as she got it back in two days, it would be fine.
The man snatched it angrily and strode away.
As he walked, he spat to the side. "Trying to fool me with something like this! Just a whore!"
The carriage slowly came to a stop in front of the mansion gate.
Pei Xiaoyun stepped out of the carriage and suddenly noticed a strange man emerging from the back door. The man tucked a short-tasseled coral hairpin into his robe, his face lit with lingering delight.
That hairpin seemed to be the one he had given Ming Ying back in Yangzhou.
He tilted his head to glance toward the back door, catching a glimpse of a pink skirt disappearing from sight.
"Eldest Master, what is it?"
Kong Qing noticed he had stopped.
Pei Xiaoyun's eyes darkened with turbulent thoughts. He gestured casually. "Follow that man. If he's taken anything from the estate, cut off his hands."