Qiao Shuyi stepped into Jinglan Garden with light steps, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.
Fuzhi stood beneath the corridor and, seeing her like this from afar, finally felt the heart she had been worrying about all day settle back into her chest.
The young miss was in a good mood.
She hurried forward and curtsied:
“Young miss, you’re back?”
Qiao Shuyi didn’t stop walking, only casually asking:
“What did Zhigui do today?”
Fuzhi followed behind, reporting one by one:
“Zhigui Gongzi has been recuperating in your room all day. He got up in the morning and practiced a set of martial arts, stretching his limbs. In the afternoon, he walked around the courtyard for about half an hour. From what I saw, his spirits are much better than the past two days. He just finished dinner and has returned to your room.”
Qiao Shuyi nodded and didn’t ask further.
When she wasn’t here, it was only natural that he would thoroughly familiarize himself with every corner of her Jinglan Garden.
That was to be expected.
She walked toward the main room, but the moment she pushed open the door, the sight before her made her steps halt abruptly.
In the next instant, her smiling face completely darkened.
On the bed.
Zong Zhengheng was leaning back, his inner robe half-open, revealing the firm muscles of his chest.
A maidservant knelt beside the bed, holding ointment in her hand, applying it to the whip wounds on his back.
Zong Zhengheng caught sight of someone entering from the corner of his eye and looked up. Seeing it was her, he was about to speak—
“Slap!”
A resounding slap landed fiercely on his face.
The force was so strong that his face was knocked to the side, a red mark instantly blooming on half his cheek.
Zong Zhengheng’s gaze froze.
He slowly turned his face, his dark eyes fixed on Qiao Shuyi.
The maidservant beside him was terrified out of her wits. With a “thud,” she knelt on the floor, forehead pressed to the ground, her voice trembling:
“Young miss…”
Qiao Shuyi looked down at her:
“Get out.”
The maidservant scrambled out on her hands and knees, not daring to stay a moment longer.
Only the two of them remained in the room.
Zong Zhengheng stood up, his gaze dark and sinister.
What was wrong with this young miss now?
Had he somehow provoked her, or had she been angered by something outside and was taking it out on him?
Before, he had almost truly believed that this madwoman liked him, that there was a bit of genuine feeling.
Hah.
Whose affection involved hitting and cursing at the slightest provocation!
“Zhigui, I’ve only been gone for half a day, and you’ve already learned to attract attention? How dare you let another woman touch you!”
Zhigui was stunned.
Another… woman?
He gritted his teeth and said, “Shushu… that was a maidservant in her forties or fifties.”
“So what! Zhigui, I’ll be jealous! I can’t accept it, I can’t accept even the slightest intimacy between you and someone else—you are mine!”
The corner of Zong Zhengheng’s mouth twitched slightly.
He truly… could not understand this woman’s mind.
Was she genuinely unable to tolerate him having contact with others, or was she just seizing an opportunity to vent and deliberately picking a fight?
If it had been a young maid applying medicine for him, he could somewhat understand her anger.
After all, the maid was young, and her jealousy would make some sense.
But he had only sought out a maidservant over forty, with hands as rough as tree bark, old enough to be his mother—
And even then, she could go mad?
He opened his mouth, a torrent of rebuttals rising to his lips.
He wanted to say—
You left me here all day, the wounds on my back still hurt, is it wrong to apply medicine?
The maidservant is from your own courtyard, not someone I brought in from outside, what kind of madness are you throwing?
Can’t you be a little reasonable?
The words rushed to his lips, but meeting her reddened eyes, he swallowed them back.
He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, his gaze was calm.
“Shushu… I was wrong. It won’t happen again.”
As soon as he admitted his mistake, Zong Zhengheng saw the madness swirling in her eyes gradually recede.
Those eyes became clear again, innocent, even… aggrieved.
He secretly breathed a sigh of relief, even forgetting the slap he had just received, forgetting the burning pain on his cheek.
Qiao Shuyi’s fingertips gently touched the left side of his face where she had struck him:
“Zhi Gui, does it hurt?”
“Zhi Gui, you are mine. Don’t get close to others, okay? When I came in just now and saw her applying medicine to you, I… lost control.”
“I love your face so much, yet I struck it. You can imagine… how hurt and upset your actions just now made me.”
Absurd!
She had hit him, yet she wanted him to comfort her.
She had gone mad, yet she wanted him to apologize.
But what could he say?
He could only lower his eyes, his voice soft:
“It doesn’t hurt.”
After a pause, he added:
“I was wrong.”
Hearing this, Qiao Shuyi slowly broke into a smile.
She threw herself into his arms, wrapped her arms around his waist, buried her face in his chest, and murmured:
“Zhi Gui, you’re so good.”
Zong Zhengheng looked down at the head buried against his chest, at the slightly trembling dark hair, and remained motionless.
He didn’t know what to say.
The two embraced for a moment, the room silent except for the faint crackling of the candle flame.
Finally, Qiao Shuyi pulled away from his embrace and led him back to sit on the couch.
She gazed at him, her eyes shimmering like pools of spring water:
“Zhi Gui, let me reapply the medicine for you, okay? It’s just that having someone else’s medicine on your back makes me uncomfortable. Let me wash it off first, then reapply it, okay?”
Zong Zhengheng: “…”
“Alright.”
He turned around, his back facing her, revealing the crisscrossing whip marks.
A cloth soaked in cold water rubbed against the wounds.
Each stroke brought pain.
Zong Zhengheng clenched his jaw.
Was this madwoman torturing him?
He silently counted his breaths, swallowing the pain bit by bit.
Only when Qiao Shuyi finally set the cloth aside did his tense back relax.
Then, warm fingers dipped in ointment gently touched his wounds.
Now it was careful, tender care—a world apart from the torment he had just endured.
He relaxed, closing his eyes to savor this fleeting moment of gentleness.