The chill crept like a slender snake, winding from Xue Qingqing's back up to the base of her skull, bursting into a firework of cold numbness before spreading through her limbs and bones.
Her eyes didn't blink as she stared straight at the man before her.
They had lived under the same roof for so long, yet at this moment, Xue Qingqing felt as though she had never truly known this person.
"You said…"
She trembled involuntarily, looking at the refined, handsome face full of scholarly air before her. Her throat was so parched and hoarse she could barely produce sound, forcing herself to continue: "What did you say… say it again."
Their eyes met. Pei Huaizhen's expression didn't change, his peach-blossom eyes brimming with affection, his voice still gentle: "Miss Xue, I said that the village chief was wounded by my blade, not protected by your deceased husband."
The moment the words fell, a ripple flickered across Xue Qingqing's gaze.
The light in her eyes vanished, her pupils sinking into a darkness she had never known, as if the person sitting before her wasn't a living man, but a vicious ghost crawling up from hell.
"Have you gone mad!" She couldn't help but snap.
Pei Huaizhen had anticipated her reaction. His heart remained calm, but a look of grievance surfaced on his face.
As if he truly didn't understand why he had earned this rebuke.
He rose and walked toward Xue Qingqing, as if to explain himself.
"Don't come near me, don't touch me!"
Xue Qingqing stumbled backward in panic, her apricot eyes wide, shaking her head as she trembled: "How dare you, how could you dare…"
"Why wouldn't I dare?" Pei Huaizhen's gaze was full of pity as he watched the trembling woman before him, his voice warm and gentle, "Anyone who harbors ill intentions toward Miss Xue—every single one of them deserves to die."
He smiled slightly: "Leaving that old bastard alive was already me showing mercy."
Xue Qingqing struggled to breathe.
How had things come to this?
Just moments ago, she had been rejoicing that Liu Dabao had gotten his just deserts, delighted that her husband was watching over her from heaven, eagerly wanting to cook something delicious to celebrate the good day.
She hadn't been this happy in a long time.
Xue Qingqing closed her eyes in pain.
At that moment, a whimper came from the inner room—Little Tiger had been startled awake by the commotion.
Pei Huaizhen's eyes filled with concern, like a father moved by his child's cry, and he turned to head toward the inner room.
Sensing what he intended to do, Xue Qingqing, who had been retreating, suddenly surged forward and stood firmly blocking the door to the inner room.
"Don't you go in there!" Xue Qingqing spread her arms to block the doorway, glaring furiously at Pei Huaizhen.
The frail woman, delicate as a willow, was so frightened even her hair strands trembled, yet a hard light shone in her eyes, like a lioness protecting her cub.
Pei Huaizhen looked at her.
Beneath all the false affection, deep in the man's eyes, was a faint trace of mockery.
He spoke softly: "Miss Xue, just moments ago, you weren't treating me this way."
She had gazed sweetly at the memorial tablet, saying her husband must be protecting her, with the coy demeanor of a young girl, her eyes sparkling with bright light.
But when facing him, it was a completely different face.
Pei Huaizhen let out a cold laugh inwardly.
Of course, he knew he shouldn't have spoken the truth.
But this feeling of having his credit stolen by a dead man—it was truly unpleasant.
"Is it because the one who avenged you was me, and not your deceased husband, that you're falling apart like this?"
His peach-blossom eyes blinked once, and Pei Huaizhen wore an innocent expression: "Protecting my own lifesaver—have I done something wrong?"
Xue Qingqing was immersed in fear, her mind numb, her pupils reflecting the man's grievance-filled face. Her lips trembled as she struggled to form words: "You're not wrong… no, you are wrong, you…"
She could barely organize her thoughts anymore.
Liu Dabao deserved what he got—losing his heir was his own doing. And Young Master Shen, as the "culprit" who had made him lose his heir, could never be blamed in the eyes of Xue Qingqing, who had benefited from it.
She just couldn't accept it.
Couldn't accept that this man who shared her roof, who showed her constant care, who helped her take care of her child, who was full of scholarly grace and gentle tenderness—could have blood on his hands, silently cutting off a living person's…
Xue Qingqing could even accept him picking up a knife in a rage, charging out of the courtyard furiously to kill Liu Dabao.
But not this—silently committing bloodshed, then returning as if nothing had happened, continuing to smile at her and talk with her.
As if, to him, maiming or killing a person was as ordinary as eating or drinking.
Xue Qingqing was utterly horrified.
"Miss Xue."
The man's gentle voice sounded again, a clear sob in its trailing tone: "Tell me, where exactly did I go wrong?"
Looking again at that harmless, handsome face, Xue Qingqing's heart raced with urgency, her eyes full of vigilance.
She forced down the tremor in her voice and said harshly: "You leave."
"Leave right now. Get away from me and my child, and never come back."
Pei Huaizhen's face showed shock, and for a long moment, he couldn't recover.
A layer of moisture gradually formed in his eyes, and he smiled bitterly. "Leave? Where am I supposed to go?"
"I'm a cripple who can't even walk properly, with no memories of the past. Once I walk out that door, no matter how vast the world is, where would I find a place to belong?"
"Miss Xue, I know you think my methods are too cruel, that keeping me around is a hidden danger. But since we first met, if I, Shen, had any ill intentions toward you and the child, why would I have waited until today? In my eyes, from the day you rescued me, my life has been yours. My remaining years will be lived only for you. Protecting your and the child's safety is my greatest mission in this life—the entire meaning of my existence."
His eyes glistened with tears, his expression resolute. "Miss Xue, you are a person of loyalty and righteousness. Ask yourself—if you had been saved by someone, and you watched your savior suffer humiliation, wouldn't you want to slice that person into a thousand pieces and see them get what they deserve?"
Xue Qingqing's unfocused gaze gradually sharpened.
For her, the only person who could truly be called her savior was her husband, Lu Fang.
After all, if Lu Fang hadn't appeared back then, she would likely have been sold by her parents to a wealthy landlord as a concubine before long, and would have been worn down to death within two years.
If Lu Fang were still alive and someone bullied him, she would absolutely wish to tear that person apart limb from limb.
At the thought of her husband, Xue Qingqing's heart softened considerably. Her expression gentled, and tears welled in her eyes.
Pei Huaizhen continued, "That's what I thought, so I did it. That's all there is to it. Yes, my methods are cruel, but this world has always confused right and wrong, turned good and bad upside down. If a good person doesn't show some strength, wouldn't they simply be meat on someone's chopping block, at their mercy?"
Xue Qingqing wore a contemplative expression.
"Miss Xue, think about it again."
Pei Huaizhen's voice softened once more, coaxing gently: "If I hadn't struck so ruthlessly, would that wretch have given up on you so easily? He'd think about you day and night, and eventually he'd find his chance. Then, a widow with a young child, who would you turn to for justice? Who would you rely on?"
Xue Qingqing's face showed sorrow.
Slowly, she raised her eyes to look at Pei Huaizhen, a flicker of hesitation in her gaze.
At that moment, Little Tiger's cries suddenly rang out loud and clear.
Xue Qingqing jolted. The hesitation in her eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by wariness once more.
"Nothing you say now will make a difference."
She said firmly, "I can't accept my child being around someone with blood on his hands. With you here, I won't feel at ease."
Xue Qingqing pictured the man before her committing violence in her mind, and her eyes filled with guardedness, leaving no room for negotiation.
Pain showed on Pei Huaizhen's face. "Miss Xue, what exactly must I do for you to believe in my sincerity?"
His tone grew agitated as he stepped forward. "Do I truly have to cut out my own heart for you to believe what I say?"
Seeing him approach, every hair on Xue Qingqing's body stood on end. She instinctively stepped back. "Don't come near me!"
Perhaps too flustered, she missed her footing and her body tipped backward uncontrollably.
"Miss Xue!"
Pei Huaizhen strode forward, his long arm catching Xue Qingqing around the waist, pulling her into his embrace.
Xue Qingqing's heart was still racing. When she came to her senses, she heard the man's strong, powerful heartbeat at her ear, and the faint medicinal scent that lingered in her nose.
"Get away from me!"
Xue Qingqing recoiled as if from a viper, shoving hard against that wall of a chest.
Pei Huaizhen couldn't dodge in time. He lurched backward, stumbling several steps before falling to the ground, his head striking hard against the corner of the table.
When Xue Qingqing looked up, she saw a streak of blood blooming across the man's forehead—bright red and jarring.
Xue Qingqing was frightened.
She was the kind of person who couldn't bear to kill even a chicken, let alone harm a living person.
She was afraid of this man, but she only wanted him to leave—she never meant to hurt him.
"You… are you alright?" Looking at Pei Huaizhen's pained expression, Xue Qingqing parted her lips cautiously.
Pei Huaizhen pressed his hand over the bleeding wound, blood seeping through his fingers. His pale, cold-toned skin against the vivid red—a posture of utter fragility, yet carrying a seductive, bewitching quality.
"It's nothing, don't be afraid." No sooner had he spoken than he began to cough, his chest heaving violently, the blood flowing faster.
Xue Qingqing instinctively wanted to step forward but didn't dare. She said nervously, "Can you stand up?"
Pei Huaizhen frowned deeply. "I'm afraid not. My head hurts terribly. I feel like… there are many figures flashing through my mind…"
Xue Qingqing was taken aback. "Figures flashing through your mind—could your memory be coming back?"
Pei Huaizhen's face contorted in pain. "I don't know… no… it hurts… it hurts so much."
The next moment, the hand pressed over his wound suddenly fell limp. His eyes went unfocused, and he collapsed, unconscious.
Xue Qingqing stood there, at a loss.
After a long moment, she walked over and gently nudged his arm with her foot.
Seeing no reaction, she bent down to check his breathing.
Warm breath brushed against her fingertips, and Xue Qingqing felt a momentary daze.
For a while, she had thought he was some demon in human form. Now, feeling that warmth, she remembered that he was also a living, breathing person.
Xue Qingqing's heartbeat finally calmed.
A new problem lay before her.
The man had already lost consciousness. Though he was still alive, with blood flowing unchecked like this, it was only a matter of time before he breathed his last.
And if he truly died—such a large man—she couldn't even dig a pit deep enough to hide his body.
If he were discovered, she'd be hauled off to prison.
Xue Qingqing turned the matter over and over in her mind, and the more she thought, the more she wanted to cry.
In the end, she wiped away her tears and decided to get the man onto the couch first.
Xue Qingqing crouched down, first lifting one of the man's arms and draping it over her shoulder, while her other hand gripped his waist, testing whether her strength might be enough to manage supporting him upright.
She didn't hold out much hope—after all, the difference in their builds was vast.
But when she exerted her strength, the man's body actually stirred a little.
Somewhat surprised, she pushed harder, struggling again and again, until she finally managed to hoist him up.
He was heavy, yes, but the weight seemed calculated—enough to exhaust her, yet not enough to crush her.
Gazing at the bamboo bed so close at hand, Xue Qingqing let out a warm breath and tightened her grip on the man's waist.
Above her head, the wound on Pei Huaizhen's forehead was still bleeding, the vivid red staining his finely sculpted features.
Amidst that blood-red, those tightly shut eyes suddenly snapped open.
He lowered his gaze, watching the small widow's focused profile, the rosy flush blooming on her cheeks from exertion, the trembling arc of her long lashes.
Just like that, he observed her in silence.