Chapter 43 -

Chapter 43: Chapter

Yimei and Qinqin finally reached the quiet corridor of the Northern Courtyard. The night wind blew snow across the stone path, making the air freeze.

A few young maids walked past holding wooden trays. Yimei stopped one of them. "Where is the Young Master?"

The maid quickly lowered her head and bowed. "Greeting, First Young Madame. Young Master Zhengyu is inside his room."

Yimei gave a small nod. "You may go."

She turned to Qinqin, her voice calm and straightforward. "Go back to our room and get some rest. I am going to the kitchen to make ginger soup for him."

Qinqin looked at her mistress in surprise. Today had been such a terrible, tiring day. Her shop was burned down, people were mocking her, and yet Yimei was still thinking about making warm ginger soup for her husband. Qinqin felt a surge of sympathy for her mistress, but she knew better than to argue.

"Yes, Miss," Qinqin said softly, bowing before heading to their quarters.

Qinqin let out a quiet sigh as she watched Yimei walk away toward the kitchen. Her mistress was truly strong, but she worked far too hard.

Yimei walked into the warm kitchen, the smell of firewood filling the room. She picked up a sharp knife, washed a large piece of fresh ginger, and sliced it into thin, neat pieces. She placed the ginger into a small clay pot, added fresh water and a spoonful of brown sugar, and set it over the small charcoal stove to boil.

She watched the steam rise from the pot, her eyes completely calm. Making ginger soup was simple, but it was a perfect excuse to talk to Zhengyu alone without raising suspicion.

If she wanted his favorability points to increase she had to have a reason for seeing him face to face.

Once the soup boiled down into a rich, dark liquid, Yimei poured it into a fine porcelain bowl, placed it on a wooden tray, and walked out toward Zhengyu’s room.

Yimei carried the wooden tray down the quiet hallway and stopped in front of Zhengyu’s room. Lin Feng was not standing guard outside today, which meant the courtyard was completely silent.

She raised her hand and knocked twice on the heavy wooden door.

"Come in," Zhengyu’s deep voice called out from inside.

Yimei pushed the door open with one hand and stepped into the warm room. Scented charcoal burned softly in the brass stove, casting a gentle glow across the chamber.

Zhengyu sat near the window in his wheelchair, an open book resting on his lap. He looked up, his dark eyes tracking her as she walked inside.

"Lin Feng is not here tonight?" Yimei asked plainly, setting the tray down on the small table beside his chair.

"I sent him out to run an errand," Zhengyu replied, his voice flat as he watched her. He looked down at the steaming porcelain bowl on the tray. "What is this?"

"Ginger soup," Yimei said, her tone calm and straightforward. "It is freezing outside, and steam from the kitchen was already running. Drink it while it is hot."

Zhengyu didn’t reach for the bowl right away. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and looked into her eyes with a slow, unreadable expression.

"Your tea house burned to the ground this morning," Zhengyu said softly. "The whole estate is talking about your misfortune, yet you come here to cook soup for a disabled husband?"

Yimei pulled out a chair and sat down across from him, her posture completely straight.

"Crying over spilled milk changes nothing," Yimei said, her face smooth as glass. "A burned building is just wood and stone. It can be rebuilt."

Zhengyu tilted his head, a tiny, dark glint flickering in his eyes. "You are remarkably calm, wife. Do you not care who set the fire?"

"I care," Yimei replied, her voice dropping into a cold, steady tone. "The wooden beams were doused in heavy lamp oil before the match was struck. I’m suspecting Madame Chen and her two minions but once I’ve done my research I’ll know who exactly had done it."

Zhengyu’s lips curved into a dark, quiet smile in the dim light. He reached out, picked up the porcelain spoon, and took a small sip of the warm ginger soup.

"Then do not let their efforts go to waste," Zhengyu said smoothly, setting the spoon down. "Make them pay for every drop of oil they used."

Yimei watched him sip the soup, her face as still as water.

"In three days, you and I are leaving for the southern village," Yimei said, her voice completely smooth and matter-of-fact. "We will stay there for a week. I will speak to Grandmother tomorrow morning to get her permission."

Zhengyu paused, his hand freezing over the porcelain bowl. His dark eyes narrowed, a look of utter disbelief and disgust flashing across his sharp face.

He set the spoon down with a sharp click and glared at her, his voice dropping into a harsh, blunt sneer.

"Have you lost your mind?" Zhengyu snapped, his tone cold and remarkably rude. "Look at me, woman. I am a cripple tied to a chair. The southern roads are mud, ice, and filth. I am not going to drag my broken legs across the countryside just to satisfy whatever foolish errand you have in your head. Go alone or don’t go at all, but do not drag me into your mess."

Yimei did not flinch, nor did her expression soften. Instead, her dark eyes turned icy, her words cutting back just as cruel and blunt as his.

"You think I want your company?" Yimei replied, her voice dropping into a smooth, razor-sharp whisper as she leaned down slightly over his chair. "You sit in this dark room all day looking like a corpse, acting as if the world owes you something because your legs do not work. If I leave you here, Madame Liu and Madame Chen will simply watch my every move. But if I take my useless, crippled husband along, they will think I am hiding away in shame."

Zhengyu’s jaw tightened, his black eyes flashing with dangerous anger at her cold words.

"You are shameless," Zhengyu growled.

"I am practical," Yimei corrected flatly, straightening her back and adjusting her sleeves. "Grandmother will never refuse my request if I tell her I am taking you out to rest your poor health. Pack your thickest cloak, Zhengyu. Whether you like it or not, you are coming with me."

Without waiting for his reply, Yimei turned on her heel and walked out, leaving Zhengyu sitting frozen in his wheelchair, clutching his teacup so tightly his knuckles turned white.