Chapter 112 -

Chapter 112: Chapter

Yimei stepped through the arched doorway into. Qinqin followed right behind her, holding the small basket with shivering, cold hands.

Before they reached the covered hallway, Xiaoyu hurried out from the shadows. She wrapped a woolen scarf tightly around her shoulders, her face pale with worry.

"Young Madame!" Xiaoyu called out in a hushed voice, bowing quickly. "You are back! Old Madame woke up fully this afternoon. Her mind is clear, and the head physician said she is stable."

Yimei stopped, fixing her warm fur cloak. "That is good news. Did she say anything?"

"Yes," Xiaoyu whispered, looking around the dark courtyard to make sure no other servants were listening. "The moment Old Madame woke up, she told Old Master Tianming to send a fast messenger on horseback to the Great Uncles down in the southeast. They received the letter and are traveling by fast carriage right now. They will arrive late tonight, so Old Madame ordered the whole family to gather in the ancestral hall to prepare for the trial."

Yimei nodded slowly, her clear eyes showing no surprise. "Hmm alright then."

Xiaoyu paused for a second, moving nervously on her feet. She took a small step closer and lowered her voice even more. "Young Madame... about the First Young Master... he has been sitting in his room all evening without eating his dinner. He—"

"I do not need to hear about his dinner, Xiaoyu," Yimei cut in smoothly, her voice cool, flat, and completely unbothered. "He has hands to eat and guards to bring his food. If he wants to sit in the dark, let him."

Without waiting for Xiaoyu to answer, Yimei turned around and walked gracefully into her own room, closing the heavy wooden door behind her with a quiet click.

Xiaoyu stood frozen in the middle of the courtyard, her mouth slightly open in total shock. She had never heard Young Madame talk about the First Young Master with such cold, total distance.

Qinqin was about to follow her mistress inside when Xiaoyu grabbed her thick wool sleeve, pulling her into the dark corner under the roof eaves.

"Qinqin, wait!" Xiaoyu whispered urgently, her face full of worry. "What is going on between Young Madame and the First Young Master? Are they having a big fight?!"

Qinqin let out a small, tired sigh, shaking her head. "I really do not know, Sister Xiaoyu. Young Madame has not said a single word about him all day. Whenever I bring up his name, she just tells me to ignore it and mind my own work. She will not tell me anything at all!"

Xiaoyu bit her lip, looking toward the dark, quiet window of Zhengyu’s room across the courtyard. "This is bad... First Young Master has been in a terrible mood all evening, and now Young Madame will not even look at him. With the Great Uncles coming tonight, how can our branch stand together?"

Inside her warm bedroom, Yimei sat before her wooden dressing table, pulling the silver pins out of her hair one by one. She looked at her calm reflection in the mirror, totally unbothered by the worry outside.

Let him freeze in his own big ego, Yimei thought with a small, cold smile. Tonight, the Great Uncles arrive, Second Uncle gets punished. I have far more important things to deal with.

Qinqin pushed the heavy wooden door open, stepping quietly into the warm bedroom. She carried a tray with a basin of warm water and set it gently down on the side table.

Looking over at Yimei, who was sitting at her wooden dressing table pulling the last silver pin from her hair, Qinqin asked softly, "Young Madame, should I prepare your warm bath first, or would you like me to fetch your dinner?"

Yimei didn’t look up from her reflection in the mirror. She set her comb down on the table with a soft clack.

"Neither yet," Yimei said calmly. "Go to the kitchen and heat up the First Young Master’s medicinal brew. Cook a fresh plate of hot pork dumplings to go with it and send it to his room."

Qinqin blinked in surprise, stopping in her tracks. "The... First Young Master? But I thought—"

"He likes pork dumplings," Yimei cut in smoothly, her tone practical and even. "He is stubborn, but he won’t refuse food if it is something he likes. Make sure the soup is hot before you hand it to Liu Feng."

Qinqin looked at her mistress for a long moment. She didn’t move toward the door right away. Instead, she took slow, quiet steps across the room until she was standing right behind Yimei’s chair. She picked up the wooden hairbrush from the dressing table and began gently brushing out Yimei’s long, dark hair.

"Young Madame..." Qinqin whispered nervously, her hands moving with soft, careful care. "Please don’t be too angry with the First Young Master."

Yimei raised a thin eyebrow, her dark eyes meeting Qinqin’s in the mirror. "What are you talking about? What do you know?"

Qinqin let out a quiet breath, keeping her eyes lowered on the dark hair in her hands. "Young Madame, have you forgotten that I have a younger brother? He lives far away with my parents now, but when I used to live with him, he was always so grumpy. He was angry at the world every single day and locked himself in his room."

Yimei listened quietly, listening to the soft scrape of the brush against her hair. "Why was he grumpy?"

Qinqin sighed softly, her small face filling with sad memories. "Because he was born with very dark skin. Back in our small village, the other kids were so cruel. They teased him every single day, pushed him into the dirt, and called him dirty names until he stopped going outside altogether."

Qinqin paused, her hands stopping for a second.

"He spent months sitting alone in the dark room, refusing to talk to anyone," Qinqin continued softly. "Then one morning, my mother bought a small box of white face powder for a festival. While we were outside, my brother took the powder, locked the door, and painted his entire face and hands white just so he could look like the other kids."

Yimei sat completely still in front of her mirror.

"He was so scared of being pushed away, so tired of people looking down on him, that he tried to hide who he was," Qinqin said, looking straight into Yimei’s eyes through the mirror. "First Young Master lost his legs, Young Madame. Everyone in the family looks at him like he is broken or useless. He acts cold and pushes people away first so they can’t hurt him or pity him."

Yimei looked at her own reflection in the dim oil lamp light, the silence in the warm room stretching long and deep. She thought about Zhengyu sitting alone in his dark room, holding his book, watching the door, and hiding behind his harsh, cold words.

After a long moment, Yimei reached out her small hand, tapping Qinqin’s wrist gently.

"Go heat up the dumplings, Qinqin," Yimei said smoothly, her voice dropping into a soft, quiet tone. "Make sure they are extra hot."

Qinqin’s face instantly lit up with a small, sweet smile. She set the hairbrush down, bowed quickly, and hurried out the door to the kitchen.

Left alone in her quiet room, Yimei turned her head toward the dark window facing the courtyard, her dark eyes deep and thoughtful in the flickering lamplight.