Chapter 133 -

Chapter 133: Chapter

Yimei and Qinqin walked back along the dark stone path, the cold night air blowing against their cheeks.

"Tomorrow, I am taking Zhengyu to see Grandmaster Zhang," Yimei said softly.

Qinqin’s eyes lit up with a bright smile. "Can I tag along, Madame? I really want to see the master who has been helping the Young Master recover!"

Yimei smiled faintly, amused by how easily Qinqin got excited. "No problem. The four of us will go tomorrow."

Yimei walked Qinqin all the way to her small quarters near the side yard just to check on the room. It was small, but clean and warm.

"Make sure you keep your charcoal burning so you don’t freeze, okay?" Yimei instructed, sounding like a worried mother.

"I will, Madame!" Qinqin nodded. But just as Yimei turned to leave, Qinqin hesitated, her cheeks flushing slightly red.

"Madame... the Young Master looked quite pale tonight. Maybe he isn’t feeling too good, and that’s why he lost his appetite."

Yimei stopped, looking back at her. "Why are you telling me this?"

Qinqin blushed even deeper, fidgeting with her sleeves. "Well... Madame, you are a very direct person, and you think in a very practical way. I was worried you might think the Young Master refused the food just because he was acting spoiled and ungrateful. But the Young Master really doesn’t seem to be that bad of a person."

Yimei looked at Qinqin for a moment, her face unreadable. "Rest well, Qinqin. We have a long day tomorrow."

Leaving Qinqin’s room, Yimei carried the tray with Zhengyu’s untouched food and walked back into her own bedchamber.

Zhengyu was sitting near the candle, his face indeed looking paler than usual under the warm light. His eyes followed her silently as she set the tray down on the table.

Yimei walked over, reaching out her hand straight toward his forehead. Before Zhengyu could pull back, her smooth, cool palm rested against his skin.

It was burning hot.

"Your body is feverish," Yimei said, her voice dropping all its sarcasm, turning calm and serious. "Is it your leg again?"

Zhengyu closed his eyes for a second, letting out a low, tired breath. "It’s just the cold from the journey. It will pass."

"It won’t just pass if you ignore it and refuse to eat," Yimei said flatly. She pulled a chair close to his wheelchair, grabbed the warm bun, and broke off a small piece, holding it out to him. "Eat. Grandmaster Zhang won’t be happy to see you looking like a corpse tomorrow."

Zhengyu looked at the piece of bun in her fingers, then at her unyielding, focused eyes. A tiny, faint smile touched his pale lips as he finally reached out and took the food from her hand.

Yimei set the rest of the bun on the table, turning back to him with her usual focused expression. "I’ll go make your herbal decoction and a hot soup to bring this fever down so it doesn’t get worse. But first, you need a quick wipe-down."

She walked around the room, preparing everything with smooth efficiency while Zhengyu quietly chewed his food, his dark eyes tracking her every move.

Yimei fetched a clean cloth and dipped it into the bucket of water Qinqin had brought earlier, wringing it out until it was damp. She pulled a fresh, thick robe from their bundle, setting it neatly on the low chest along with a warm blanket.

After dusting off the wooden headboard, she walked back to his wheelchair. He had managed to eat half the bun, his breathing still slightly shallow from the heat in his chest.

Yimei picked up the teacup, holding it out for him. "Drink some water."

Zhengyu took slow sips from the cup. As he drank, Yimei casually reached out, her fingers running gently through his dark hair to check the heat lingering at the nape of his neck.

"You have a nice hair structure," she remarked casually, her tone as dry as if she were inspecting a piece of silk.

Zhengyu didn’t say anything to her offhand comment, but as he lowered the cup, Yimei caught the subtle flush creeping up the side of his ear, turning it a light shade of red.

Setting the empty cup down, she unlocked the wheels and pushed his wheelchair right up against the side of the bed. She bent down, wrapping her arms securely under his shoulders to support his weight. Slowly and carefully, she helped him transfer from the chair onto the soft mattress, shifting his position until he was sitting up comfortably with his back resting against the firm wall.

Yimei pulled the heavy blanket over his legs, smoothing it flat.

"I’ll go make the decoction and herb soup now," she said, looking straight into his tired eyes. "When I get back, I’ll clean you up and massage your leg, okay?"

She reached into her cloth bag, pulled out an old leather-bound book she had packed from the capital, and placed it right on his lap.

"You can read this while you wait," Yimei added, turning toward the door to head down to the kitchen.

After she left, Zhengyu found himself still staring at the empty doorway where she had just walked out.

The room was quiet now, saved for the soft crackle of the charcoal in the brazier. He didn’t move for a long moment. Slowly, almost without thinking, his fingers reached up and gently touched his own hair, right at the exact spot where her cool hands had just rested.

There was a red flush on his ear, a little higher up his neck.

Zhengyu let out a soft, dry exhale, shaking his head at his own foolishness. He looked down at his lap, his eyes falling onto the old leather-bound book Yimei had left him.

His long, pale fingers brushed over the worn leather cover. He slowly opened the first page as he began to read, waiting in the warm room for her return.