That night, she had a nightmare.
In the dream, Chu Jin sat in the master’s chair in the front hall, his deep, sharp eyes still fixed on her with a chilling gaze.
She wanted to run but couldn’t—someone was pressing her to the ground.
A knee dug into her back, as if her bones were about to shatter.
Chu Jin looked down at her from above, as if she were an ant.
“Luo Ran, do you know your crime?”
She lay sprawled on the ground, his gaze bearing down on her, suffocating her until she could hardly breathe.
She cried until her voice grew hoarse, trembling violently like a sieve, kowtowing frantically.
“Master, I was wrong, I shouldn’t have stolen your silver…”
“Just the silver?”
He interrupted her, his sinister gaze sliding down her face and settling on her chest.
That gaze was like an icy blade, scraping her flesh inch by inch.
Shame made her tremble even more violently, and she shook her head, weeping.
“No, that’s not it… that’s not it…”
She stammered, trying to explain clearly.
“That day, you were too badly injured, unconscious and unable to swallow the crushed herbal paste, and there was no water… I was afraid you would die, so in desperation, I could only… I could only dilute the herbs with… with breast milk…”
“You dare feed this filthy thing to this general.”
Chu Jin’s resolute and handsome face wore an expression of utter disgust, his voice cold and menacing.
Tears streaked her face as she babbled incoherently.
“Xiao Yue is still nursing, so I wash myself every day… I don’t have any filthy diseases… I’m not dirty, truly not dirty…”
She couldn’t remember how many times she repeated it, but she kept saying it over and over.
Chu Jin’s expression showed not a hint of softening.
A whip was raised, dripping with saltwater.
At the command of the cold male voice, the barbed whip soaked in saltwater lashed her body, tearing her apart with excruciating pain, leaving her covered in wounds.
Xiao Yue cried heart-wrenchingly beside her. She wanted to hold her but couldn’t move.
Luo Ran jolted upright in bed, drenched in cold sweat, gasping for air, her heart pounding wildly.
Outside the window, it was still pitch black, the night still deep.
Xiao Yue slept soundly beside her, breathing evenly.
She clutched her chest, panting for a long while, her palms slick with cold sweat, sticking uncomfortably to her clothes, icy to the touch.
The chilling coldness in Chu Jin’s eyes from the dream and her own desperate despair remained vividly etched in her mind, impossible to shake off.
Even though she was awake, she couldn’t stop the chill running down her spine.
Her mind was filled with Chu Jin’s cold, sinister image…
The more she thought about it, the more panicked she became, and the more panicked she felt, the harder it was to fall asleep.
The cramped room was eerily quiet, the air as if frozen, making her chest tighten and her breathing feel stifled.
Unable to lie still any longer, she quietly pushed aside the thin blanket.
She straightened her coarse cloth dress and gently pulled open the door.
The late-night wind carried a slight chill, and as it brushed against her, she shivered slightly, but the suffocating tightness in her chest eased somewhat.
The courtyard was silent, with only the moonlight like water, spilling softly and hazily over the stone-paved path.
Chu Fu, bustling with people during the day, now seemed exceptionally vast and quiet in the deep stillness of the night.
Luo Ran walked slowly along the corridor, wanting only to find a breezy spot to stand for a while, to calm her tangled thoughts.
She didn’t dare go far, lingering only in the nearby small courtyard.
Her mind was a mess, filled entirely with the image of Chu Jin from her dream.
Luo Ran couldn’t help but wonder: Chu Jin had been unconscious at the time, so he probably didn’t remember what she had fed him, right?
Was he really still searching for the person who stole his silver?
If he actually found them, what would their fate be?
Would they end up like that servant who stole something—whipped with salt-soaked lashes until half-dead, then thrown out?
The thought sent a chill down Luo Ran’s spine.
It wasn’t death she feared, but what would happen to Xiao Yue, still so young, if something happened to her.
Just as her unease grew into dread, two steady sets of footsteps sounded in the distance.
Along with low murmurs of conversation, a faint trace of alcohol drifted over on the night breeze.
Luo Ran’s heart leaped, and she instinctively wanted to hide, but the corridor was empty and exposed, offering nowhere to conceal herself.
She could only hurriedly lower her head, drop her gaze, and shrink into the shadow of a pillar.
Two figures gradually drew nearer, their outlines growing clearer under the moonlight.
The one walking ahead was tall and upright, dressed in dark robes, his posture as straight as a pine tree.
Even with just a casual stride, he carried an intimidating air that kept others at a distance.
It was precisely Chu Jin—the person Luo Ran most dreaded seeing at that moment.
Beside him walked a slightly younger man, clad in bright, eye-catching robes, his gait relaxed and somewhat frivolous, with handsome features and a smiling glint in his eyes.
This was the eldest son of the second branch: Chu Chengfeng.
The Chu family, as one of the capital’s foremost distinguished households, had not yet divided the estate.
Currently, the residence housed three branches. The master of the first branch had passed away a few years earlier; during his lifetime, he had served as the Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, a second-rank official, and was granted a hereditary title by the late emperor for his outstanding achievements.
Though no longer alive, the title had been passed down and was now inherited by Chu Jin, who also managed the Chu family’s affairs.
The master of the second branch was still living and had Chu Chengfeng as his legitimate eldest son. Everyone in the residence addressed him as “Second Master.”
During her time in the residence, Luo Ran had heard plenty of rumors about this Second Master.
He spent his days gambling, racing dogs, and frequenting pleasure quarters, never taking anything seriously—behavior that gave his mother constant headaches.
Yet he possessed a silver tongue, capable of sweet-talking anyone, which led his father to turn a blind eye to his antics.
The two cousins had clearly returned late from an evening banquet outside, both carrying a mild scent of alcohol—not overpowering, but enough to be noticeable.
Luo Ran buried her head even lower, holding her breath, hoping they would pass by quickly without noticing her.
But things did not go as she wished.
Chu Chengfeng had sharp eyes and immediately caught sight of the slender figure standing in the corridor.
He paused, his gaze sweeping over Luo Ran from head to toe, and his eyes brightened noticeably.
He had seen most of the maids and older servants in the residence, but this woman before him…
Under the moonlight, her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders. She looked delicate and fair, with gentle features and skin so pale it seemed almost translucent in the moonlight.
Even her coarse servant’s dress couldn’t conceal her soft, fragile grace.
Chu Chengfeng, ever the flirt, found his feet rooted to the spot at the sight of such a pretty young woman.
He took a step forward, a hint of playful laughter in his tone, and asked,
“Well now, which maid is this? What are you doing standing here so late?”
Noticing Luo Ran’s dark blue servant attire, he added,
“Which branch do you serve? Someone as lovely as you—how have I never run into you before?”
Luo Ran took a step back, her face flushing at Chu Chengfeng’s flirtatious words.
Flustered and embarrassed, she kept her head bowed and whispered nervously,
“Master.”
“Second Master.”
Her voice was soft and gentle, like a feather brushing against the heart.
Chu Chengfeng felt a slight itch in his chest, his smile deepening as he leaned in a little closer, his words growing increasingly unrestrained.
“What’s your name? How old are you?”
“The moonlight is so lovely tonight. Standing here alone is rather dull. Why not come with me to my courtyard, enjoy the moon, have a little wine, and chat?”
The flirtatious undertone in his words could not have been more obvious.