The door to the wing room was gently pushed open, and Xie Yanqing quickly stepped inside, the hem of his official robe stirring a faint, cool breeze.
He reached the bedside in a few strides, leaning over to look at his daughter. His eyes held an uncontainable anxiety and heartache, yet his voice was deliberately gentle: “Lanyin, how are you? Are you still in a lot of pain? Can you get out of bed and walk around?”
He reached out, as if wanting to touch his daughter’s cheek, but fearing he might hurt her, his hand paused in mid-air. In the end, he only lightly smoothed the stray wisps of hair by her pillow. “My child… you’ve suffered.”
“Father.” Xie Lanyin opened her eyes, gazing at the handsome, extraordinary middle-aged man before her, whose face overlapped with the original owner’s memories and was now filled with concern. Warm memories of father and daughter interacting surfaced, and her nose tingled with a slight ache, not feigned, but a mixture of the body’s lingering instincts and her current situation.
She shook her head, her voice a little hoarse: “Father, I’m fine. Let’s… go home.”
“Good, good, home.” Xie Yanqing said repeatedly, carefully turning to support her arm. “The carriage is waiting outside the door; I’ll help you.”
Xie Lanyin slowly sat up, using his support, her feet still feeling somewhat unsteady. She looked around; besides her father, there was no familiar figure. “Where’s Qingdai?” That was her personal maid who had followed her since childhood.
Xie Yanqing’s expression darkened slightly, then quickly softened. “She was found in the overturned carriage, hit her head, and is unconscious, but the doctor has seen her; her life is not in danger. She’s already been sent back to the residence for treatment. Don’t worry.”
“That’s good.” Xie Lanyin felt a little relieved, allowing her father to half-support her as they exited the room.
Outside, it was already evening, with lead-gray clouds hanging low.
The familiar Xie Residence carriage was quietly parked in the courtyard, its curtains drawn. However, beside the carriage, a dark green figure stood with hands clasped behind his back—it was Zhan Shuo. He seemed to be waiting there specifically, or perhaps he was just passing by.
Xie Yanqing paused slightly upon seeing him, then stepped forward, cupping his hands in a respectful salute. His tone was sincere but undeniably complex: “Commander Zhan, my daughter suffered a calamity today, and it was fortunate that you arrived in time to save her. Xie is immensely grateful. I will repay this great kindness later, and will certainly visit to express my profound thanks another day.”
Zhan Shuo merely nodded, his gaze sweeping past Xie Yanqing and landing on Xie Lanyin, who was still wrapped in the large, black cloak and being supported by her father. The cloak covered her thoroughly from head to toe, revealing only a pale, small face.
Xie Yanqing also noticed the man’s cloak on his daughter. A flicker of awkwardness and hesitation crossed his face, and he reached out, intending to remove it for her: “This cloak…”
“It’s better if Miss Xie keeps it on.” Zhan Shuo spoke, his voice calm, yet carrying an undeniable authority. His meaning was self-evident—her inner garment was torn, and in such a state, she was truly unfit to be seen, even when sitting in a closed carriage.
Xie Lanyin raised her eyes, meeting Zhan Shuo’s calm, unruffled gaze for a brief moment before looking away. She tightened the edge of the cloak and softly said to her father, “Father, it’s fine.”
Then, she turned to Zhan Shuo, her expression composed. “Thank you, Commander Zhan, for today. The cloak… I will wash it and return it another day.”
Zhan Shuo said nothing more, only stepping slightly to the side, clearing the path.
Xie Yanqing no longer spoke, carefully helping his daughter into the carriage. The curtains fell, blocking the view from inside and out. The carriage slowly set off, rolling over the bluestone path in the Northern Commandery Investigation Department courtyard and heading towards the increasingly dim streets.
Zhan Shuo remained in his original spot, looking towards the spirit screen, his face expressionless.
“Cough.” A deliberate light cough sounded beside him.
Then, his shoulder was bumped, not too hard, not too soft. Deputy Commander Xiang Da had strolled up beside him at some point, arms crossed, a habitually lazy yet slightly teasing smile on his face.
He was one of the few people Zhan Shuo could call a “friend,” so he spoke with fewer reservations.
“She’s long gone, still staring?” Xiang Da leaned closer, lowering his voice, his eyes glinting mischievously. “How was it? Seeing her up close, is the title of ‘Number One Beauty’ that’s circulating in the capital really true?” He paused, his smile deepening, his voice even lower. “I heard… the way she fought back was also ‘beautiful’? Qingfeng came back, and his face was three shades paler.”
Zhan Shuo withdrew his gaze, giving him a faint, unfeeling look. That look, devoid of warmth, made Xiang Da’s playful smile recede somewhat.
“Pass down the order,” Zhan Shuo began, his commands habitually decisive. “Regarding today’s events, any details concerning Miss Xie’s situation are strictly forbidden from private discussion or leak by anyone in the Northern Commandery Investigation Department. If any rumors or gossip spread from this yamen—” He paused, his gaze sweeping over Xiang Da like a blade, “—regardless of who it is, they will be punished by military law for leaking confidential information and disturbing public order.”
Xiang Da’s expression turned serious. He immediately straightened his back, cupped his hands, and said earnestly, “Yes, this subordinate understands.” He naturally knew the gravity of the matter; it concerned the Xie family daughter’s pure reputation, and even involved an imperial decree of marriage. If mishandled, it could cause a great stir.
He then relaxed, scratching his chin and adopting his usual “bro-like” expression, muttering in a volume only they could hear: “I understand the rules, a woman’s reputation is paramount… But, I say, Commander, it’s just the two of us here, speaking off the record—” He winked. “You, who never indulged in women, this is your first time holding a young lady, isn’t it? What did it feel like? Was it truly undivided attention, like carrying a document bag?”
Zhan Shuo turned his face, looking at him sideways with an expressionless gaze.
“Xiang Da, is your brain filled with the silt from the capital’s moat instead of brain matter? You dare to speak carelessly about anyone’s affairs?”
Xiang Da’s neck recoiled, and he instantly sobered up considerably.
Right, that person was not just an attacked noblewoman; she was also Grand Tutor Xie’s granddaughter, the Minister of Rites’ esteemed daughter, and even… almost became the Second Prince’s Consort. This joke had indeed gone too far, crossing the line.
He awkwardly rubbed his nose, then said earnestly, “This subordinate misspoke. I beg your forgiveness, Lord.”
He quickly suppressed his gossipy urge, regaining the serious demeanor expected of a Deputy Commander, though his eyes still couldn’t help but dart towards Zhan Shuo’s unmoving profile.
Twilight fully enveloped the Northern Commandery Investigation Department as lights gradually lit up, stretching their figures long, casting them between the solemn corridors and walls.
The carriage quietly stopped at the Xie Residence’s side gate. Servants were already waiting inside. Upon seeing the conspicuous black man’s cloak on Xie Lanyin, they all lowered their heads, fixing their gaze on their noses, silently and swiftly escorting her, bypassing the front courtyard, and heading directly to the inner courtyard. The journey was silent, save for the rustling of footsteps.
Back in her “Listening to Snow Pavilion,” hot water, clean clothes, and calming soup were already prepared.
Her maid, Bai Zhi, with red-rimmed eyes, nimbly helped her change and wash. When she touched the rope marks on Xie Lanyin’s wrists and ankles, tears finally fell, though she held back from making a sound.
“How is Qingdai?” Xie Lanyin asked.
“Miss, she’s fine. She hit the back of her head, but she’ll be well after a few days of rest.”
Xie Lanyin closed her eyes, letting the warm cloth wipe her skin, dispelling some of the chill and discomfort. Zhan Shuo’s cloak was carefully folded and placed aside.
Before she had fully settled, the steward arrived outside the door, his voice respectful yet brooking no delay: “Old Master requests the eldest young lady’s presence.”
Xie Lanyin paused slightly. She had changed into a simple, plain lotus-root-colored everyday dress, her long hair simply tied up, without makeup. Her pale complexion and the weariness in her eyes were even more apparent.
She looked at herself in the mirror, took a deep breath, composed herself, then stood up: “Let’s go.”
Passing through several courtyards, she arrived at “Pine Crane Hall,” where her grandfather, Old Master Xie Mingyuan, resided.
Inside the study, sandalwood incense wafted. Xie Mingyuan sat upright behind a large zitan wood grand desk, dressed in a casual dark gray straight gown, holding a scroll, but not actually reading it. Her father, Xie Yanqing, stood respectfully at his side, his brow deeply furrowed. Upon seeing her enter, his eyes were filled with worry.
“Grandfather.” Xie Lanyin stepped forward, curtsying according to etiquette. Her voice was still somewhat hoarse.
“Hmm.” Xie Mingyuan put down the scroll and looked up at her. The old man’s gaze was sharp as an eagle’s. Though past sixty, he was vigorous in spirit, and the dignity of his long-held high position settled between his brows, commanding respect without needing anger. “Sit and speak.”
Xie Lanyin sat on an embroidered stool below, her back straight, her hands clasped on her lap.
“Today’s events,” Xie Mingyuan began directly, his voice steady yet penetrating, “tell me every detail from beginning to end. Everything you saw, heard, thought, and did, not a single word omitted.”
There was no warm comfort typically found between grandfather and granddaughter, only a calm, almost severe interrogation. This was the Grand Tutor of the current dynasty, the true pillar of the Xie clan.
Xie Lanyin’s heart tightened, but she showed no unusual expression. With downcast eyes, she clearly and concisely recounted everything, from the horse’s fright on the way back from Qingliang Temple, her unconsciousness, waking up trapped in the farmhouse, the villains’ malicious intentions, Zhan Shuo’s timely appearance and rescue, until she was brought back to the Northern Commandery Investigation Department for questioning. Naturally, she concealed the specific methods and intensity of her resistance, only stating that she struggled desperately and was fortunate for external intervention.
As she narrated, Xie Mingyuan listened quietly, his fingers unconsciously rubbing a smooth jade thumb ring, his eyes deep and unfathomable. Xie Yanqing stood by, several times wanting to speak but holding back, his expression anxious.
After she finished speaking, the study was silent for a moment.
Xie Mingyuan’s gaze fell on his granddaughter’s lowered eyelashes, and he suddenly asked, “Did those two men truly succeed in defiling you?”
Xie Yanqing finally couldn’t hold back, stepping half a pace forward: “Father! Lanyin has just returned, still shaken, this matter…”
Xie Mingyuan raised a hand, stopping his son’s words, his gaze still fixed on Xie Lanyin, unyielding.
Xie Lanyin raised her eyes, meeting her grandfather’s scrutinizing gaze. Her face was pale, but her eyes were clear and upright, without any evasion. Her voice, though soft, was distinct: “No. Commander Zhan… arrived in time.”
Xie Mingyuan’s expression did not soften. He asked again, “Did he personally carry you out of that farmhouse and onto the carriage?”
Xie Lanyin’s fingertips curled slightly, but she still answered frankly: “Yes. At the time, your granddaughter was exhausted and unconscious, unaware of anything.” She emphasized the word “unconscious” slightly.
Xie Mingyuan gazed at her for a moment. In his eyes, which had witnessed so much of the world, many thoughts seemed to surge, finally settling into a deep, pond-like calm. He sighed almost imperceptibly, then waved his hand, his tone slightly gentler, yet still without warmth: “Hmm. You’ve been through a fright, go down and rest well. For the next few days, stay in your room to recover, and do not go out unless necessary.”
“Yes. Your granddaughter takes her leave.” Xie Lanyin stood up, bowed again, and exited the study.
The door gently closed behind her, sealing off the heavy air within. She walked slowly along the corridor. The late spring breeze carried a chill, brushing against her face. She knew that the ripple effects of today’s events were, perhaps, only just beginning.