Chapter 105 -

Chapter 105: Chapter

Madame Bai slowly turned toward the doorway where her two daughters were waiting, taking Rulan and Meiling by their hands, and vanished into the cold night to check on Old Madame Bai.

Yimei stood silently for a moment, watching their shadows fade into the snow.

"Let us go back," Zhengyu said, his deep voice slicing through the quiet hall. His face was completely cold, devoid of any warmth or emotion.

Yimei walked behind his wheelchair, grabbing the dark wood handles, while Liu Feng walked beside them as a tall, silent guard. They stepped out of the grand hall, their footsteps crunching softly on the snow-covered stone paths as they made their way back to their private courtyard.

The night air was freezing, but inside Zhengyu’s courtyard, small oil lanterns flickered warmly against the dark wooden doors.

The moment they stepped inside the main room, Zhengyu stopped his wheelchair. He didn’t turn back to look at Yimei.

"Do not cook for me tonight.. I’ve already eaten." Zhengyu ordered, his voice sharp, cold, and flat. "Just send my medicine over with a maid later. I want to be left alone."

Without waiting for her reply, Zhengyu shot a quick, quiet glance at Liu Feng. Liu Feng understood instantly, stepping forward to grab the handles of the wheelchair and pushing Zhengyu straight into his private inner room, slamming the heavy wooden doors shut behind them.

Yimei stood alone in the middle of the quiet room, staring at the closed doors. Seeing how fast his mood had changed from dangerous and calculating to cold and distant, she couldn’t help but roll her dark eyes.

He really is a moody, difficult man, Yimei thought, shaking her head.

Suddenly, a soft, electronic chime sounded right inside her head, making her mind ring.

[Ding! System Notice!]

Nine’s cheerful, mechanical voice echoed clearly in her mind, floating up on a glowing blue screen that only Yimei could see.

[Target Character: Bai Zhengyu]

[Current Favorability Rating: 35%]

[Host Warning: Target’s emotional state is currently unstable due to high hostility toward the Bai family. System suggests cautious handling!]

Yimei stared at the floating blue words, letting out a soft, amused hum.

Thirty-five percent? she thought to herself, a small, clever smile touching her lips. At least it didn’t drop into the negative numbers.

She turned around, pulling her warm fur cloak tightly around her shoulders as she headed toward her own room to call for Qinqin.

Yimei stood in the warm side kitchen, watching steam rise from the small clay pot. The dark medicinal herbs boiled down into a thick, bitter liquid that smelled strongly of earthy roots.

Qinqin stepped forward with a small cloth, ready to pour the hot liquid into a white porcelain bowl. "Young Madame, let me take this to the First Young Master’s room. He said earlier he wanted a maid to bring it."

"No," Yimei said smoothly, taking the wooden tray from Qinqin’s hands. "I will take it to him myself."

Yimei carried the tray out into the cold hallway, her shoes tapping softly against the wooden floor. She walked up to Zhengyu’s bedroom doors and raised her hand to knock.

Before her fingers could touch the wood, a tall shadow stepped out from the dark corner.

Liu Feng stood right in front of the door, his hand resting on his sword. His sharp, quiet face showed no emotion as he blocked her path.

"Young Madame," Liu Feng said quietly. "The Young Master said he wants to be left alone tonight. Give the tray to me. I will take it inside."

Yimei stopped, looking straight into Liu Feng’s eyes. She did not back down or shrink away.

"Move," Yimei said, her voice quiet, sharp, and cold.

Liu Feng paused. He looked back at the heavy wooden door, then looked at Yimei’s firm face. As Zhengyu’s guard, he always followed every command without question. But looking at Yimei right now, he knew she would not back away easily.

For a few seconds, the air between them was silent and tense.

Finally, Liu Feng let out a low breath, took his hand off his sword, and stepped to the side. He bowed his head slightly.

"Forgive me, Young Madame," Liu Feng muttered, opening the door just enough for her to pass.

Yimei did not say another word. She held the wooden tray with both hands and walked right into Zhengyu’s dimly lit room.

The room was cold, lit by only one small oil lamp on the side table. Zhengyu sat in his wheelchair near the window, staring out at the falling snow in the dark courtyard.

He did not turn his head when the door opened, thinking it was his guard.

"I told you to leave the medicine with Liu Feng," Zhengyu said, his deep voice cold and bitter. "Can you not even follow a simple order?"

"Liu Feng knows better than to stand in my way," Yimei replied smoothly, setting the tray down on the small table right next to his wheelchair.

Zhengyu’s head snapped toward her, his dark eyes narrowing into sharp slits when he saw who was standing in his room.

"Drink," Yimei said, her voice completely calm.

Zhengyu didn’t reach for the bowl. He sneered, turning his head away toward the dark window. "I told you I wanted to be left alone. Take it away. I don’t want it."

"You think I boiled these bitter herbs for an hour just to watch you throw a childish tantrum?" Yimei asked, her tone sharp and direct. She stepped closer, moving the bowl right back into his line of sight. "You spent the whole evening pulling down Second Uncle and showing everyone in the main hall how dangerous you are. Now you want to sit alone in the cold dark and skip your medicine like a sulking boy?"

Zhengyu’s head snapped back toward her, his eyes narrowing into dangerous, icy slits. "Watch your mouth, Yimei. You are getting far too bold."

"I am being practical, husband," Yimei talked right back, not showing a single grain of fear. "Your body is weak, your legs need care, and your heart is full of poison and anger. If you fall sick tomorrow, who is going to fight off Third Uncle when he comes back with his complaints? Who is going to deal with the Great Uncles when they arrive?"

Zhengyu glared at her, his chest heaving with heavy, angry breaths. "I don’t need you to tell me how to handle my own family."

"Then don’t make me stand here all night holding a hot bowl," Yimei replied instantly, her clear eyes locked onto his. "You want to tear this family apart and make everyone who wronged you pay? Fine. But you can’t do any of that if you let yourself collapse from fever tonight."

For a long, tense moment, neither of them said a word. The small oil lamp flickered on the table, casting long shadows across the dark room. Zhengyu stared at her, trying to find any sign of fear or hesitation on her face. He found none.

Finally, Zhengyu let out a cold, bitter hum. He snatched the white porcelain bowl straight out of her hands.

Without breaking eye contact, he raised the bowl to his lips and drank the entire bitter brew down in one fast gulp, not even flinching at the awful taste.

Clack!

He slammed the empty bowl back onto the wooden tray so hard the wood shook.

"Satisfied?" Zhengyu growled, wiping a drop of dark liquid from his lip with the back of his hand.