“Uncle Li.”
In the storeroom, Steward Li was leading the manor’s accountant in taking inventory of the one hundred and twenty-eight empty chests Xiang Zhile had brought in.
Seeing the “easygoing” Xiang Zhile again, he was somewhat surprised.
After all, just an hour ago, Wangye had brushed aside the matter of the betrothal gifts because of her sudden outburst.
Using betrothal gifts to support one’s natal family—this was the first such case since the founding of Dahuang. Only Xiang Fu could do something so shameless, and yet this Wangfei was so muddle-headed.
If Wangye was willing, what could a mere servant like him say?
“Wangfei.” He nodded to her with a solemn expression.
Although she had mentally prepared herself, when Xiang Zhile saw the neatly arranged, low-quality large wooden chests, she couldn’t help but feel guilty.
“How is the inventory going?”
The accountant, having received Steward Li’s signal, spoke with a tone full of regret, “The one hundred and eight rosewood boxes and the rare treasures that Wangye sent as betrothal gifts are truly of immeasurable value. We haven’t been able to calculate the exact amount yet…”
Xiang Zhile swallowed hard and tentatively asked, “Um, let me ask—did this betrothal gift empty the Regent Manor’s storeroom?”
The accountant was taken aback. “Not exactly.” It was just that half of Wangye’s private treasury had been emptied.
Hearing this, Xiang Zhile secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
Having observed Xiang Zhile’s expression for a while, Steward Li hesitated but still cautiously spoke up.
“Wangfei, there’s something this old servant doesn’t know if I should say.”
“Uncle Li, please go ahead.”
Xiang Zhile’s enthusiasm surprised Steward Li once again.
“Wangfei, Wangye… although he forced you into marriage, he truly holds you dear in his heart… If Wangfei… if Wangfei does not care for Wangye, please at least try not to hurt him…”
Xiang Zhile lowered her eyelids slightly.
It seemed her past actions had truly hurt Uncle Li—or perhaps the hearts of everyone in this manor.
Thinking of this, her expression suddenly turned serious and earnest. “Uncle Li, I was young and foolish before, unaware of Wangye’s goodness. Now I promise you, I will never hurt Wangye in the slightest from now on.”
Receiving such a promise so abruptly, Steward Li thought he must have misheard.
“W-Wangfei, what did you just say?”
Bold declarations were best said only once.
If she had to repeat it, Xiang Zhile felt a bit embarrassed. “Just… what I said just now.”
Her gaze fell on the empty chests again, and Xiang Zhile’s expression turned cold. “Uncle Li, are these the ‘dowry’ I brought when I entered the manor?”
Thinking Xiang Zhile was about to make trouble, Steward Li quickly explained.
“Wangye said that as long as Wangfei was willing to enter the manor, the betrothal gifts were gone and that was that. He told this old servant to preserve the chests carefully…”
Hearing Steward Li’s words, Xiang Zhile was deeply moved once more.
Yan Junnuo…
How could you be so good…
Taking a deep breath, Xiang Zhile shook her head. “No need to preserve them. Tomorrow, when I return to my natal home, have someone carry them back.”
“Wangfei?” Steward Li was once again startled by Xiang Zhile’s words.
“But if we do that… Xiang Fu…”
Xiang Zhile gave a cold smile. “If Xiang Fu can be so shameless, why can’t I take back what rightfully belongs to me? That is…”
At this point, her cold smile gradually softened into a gentle curve. “That was the betrothal gifts your Wangye stored away for me…”
Steward Li looked at Xiang Zhile with half-belief, unable to figure out what scheme she was brewing in her mind.
If the Wangfei was acting, he truly had to marvel at her superb acting skills—even he could be deceived.
But if she wasn’t acting, her attitude toward Wangye was genuinely suspicious…
Recalling Wangye’s previous near-death experience, a chill ran down his spine—was she planning to lull everyone in the mansion into lowering their guard, making it easier to assassinate Wangye again?
With this thought, Steward Li saw Xiang Zhile as nothing less than an assassin.
In response to her instructions, he replied in a perfunctory manner, “Everything must wait until this old servant reports to Wangye before any decision can be made.”
“Fine. I’ll bring it up personally with Wangye during lunch.”
…
Lunchtime.
As promised, the dining table was set with a plate of stir-fried lotus root slices, a serving of steamed pork with rice flour, and a pot of lotus root and pork rib soup.
The aroma of the food whetted Yan Junnuo’s appetite as soon as he stepped into the dining hall.
Xiang Zhile hurried in carrying a bowl of lotus seed and lily dessert soup. In her haste, some of the scalding hot soup spilled onto her hand, instantly reddening a large patch of her fair, snow-white skin.
Yan Junnuo strode forward, slapped the dessert soup aside, and grasped her hand, enveloping it in his own. “Chu Shan, the medicine kit.”
He paid no mind to the sticky soup splattered across the floor.
Startled by the sudden warmth of his large hand enveloping hers, Xiang Zhile’s steady heartbeat skipped a beat involuntarily. She pulled her hand back as if electrocuted. “It’s just a minor injury. It’s nothing serious.”
The soft, delicate sensation in his hand vanished abruptly. Yan Junnuo instinctively clasped his hands behind his back and spoke expressionlessly, “From now on, you should stay away from the Kitchen. If the cook’s meals don’t suit your taste, we can simply replace him.”