Chapter 48 -

Chapter 48: Chapter

Yimei dismissed Qinqin with a wave of her hand. "Go upstairs and rest," she said smoothly.

Turning on her heel, Yimei picked up her small traveling pouch and made her way toward the wooden staircase. She walked majestically, her posture straight and her head held high, not taking a single glance back at the furious man sitting by the hearth. The quiet, effortless rhythm of her footsteps practically screamed mock victory, leaving a bitter taste in Zhengyu’s mouth.

Once her figure disappeared down the dark hallway above, Lin Feng quietly leaned down toward his master.

"Young Master..." Lin Feng began in a soft, cautious whisper, trying his best to reason with him. "It is far too cold down here, and the storm outside is getting worse. Perhaps you should just go upstairs and stay in the room with Young Madame. It is only for one night..."

"Shut up, Lin Feng!" Zhengyu snarled through gritted teeth, his black eyes flashing with pure venom.

He gripped the armrests of his wheelchair so tightly his knuckles turned completely white.

"Go to the carriage, get my thickest wool blanket, and bring my books," Zhengyu ordered flatly, his voice dropping into an icy, unyielding tone. "I will stay right here in this hallway."

Lin Feng hesitated, looking at his master’s frail, cold legs in worry. "Young Master, the drafts near the door are—"

"I said bring them!" Zhengyu snapped, glaring at the staircase as if he could bore a hole through the floorboards straight into Yimei’s room. "I would rather freeze to death in this filth than spend a single second sharing a room with that insane woman!"

Yimei stood inside the cramped, modest inn room. The chamber was plain, furnished with nothing more than a single wooden tea table and a narrow bed that could barely accommodate one person comfortably.

She walked over to the window, pushing the wooden frame open slightly to look out into the howling, snow-dusted night. Cold air brushed against her skin.

"Xiao Jun," Yimei murmured softly into the dark. "When will your men get here?"

Hours passed. It was late at night, and the entire inn had fallen dead silent as everyone slept.

Downstairs in the draughty corridor near the hearth, Zhengyu had actually stuck to his word. Wrapped tightly in a thick wool blanket with his books resting unopened on his lap, he remained sitting upright in his wheelchair, refusing to go upstairs.

From the top of the wooden staircase, Yimei stood in the shadows, quietly watching his rigid, stubborn silhouette from above.

[DING!]

Nine’s blue glow flickered softly in her vision. [Host, Young Master Zhengyu is ridiculously stubborn. He really chose to freeze in a hallway rather than share a room with you. He is going to be incredibly hard to crack.]

Yimei’s face remained smooth and emotionless in the dim light. I don’t care how hard he is to crack, she replied mentally, her tone ice-cold. As long as he brings me benefits, I am ready to take the gamble.

With that, she turned and walked back toward her room.

When she opened the wooden door, two shadowy figures dressed entirely in black guard robes were already standing silently inside the darkness. The moment she entered, both men dropped to one knee and bowed deeply.

"Are you sent by Young Master Xiao Jun?" Yimei asked in a low, even voice.

Both masked men nodded silently.

Yimei gestured toward the open doorway, pointing down the hall toward the lower floor where Zhengyu sat.

"The crippled man in the wheelchair downstairs," Yimei instructed flatly. "Cover his mouth so he cannot make a sound, knock him out, and take him out through the back entrance."

The two men gave a sharp nod and turned to carry out the order. As one of the men brushed past her, Yimei reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him instantly.

Before the guard could react, Yimei reached down, unsheathed the sharp steel sword at his waist, and brought the edge swiftly across her own forearm.

A deep red slash opened on her skin, and blood spilled over her plum-colored sleeve, dripping onto the floorboards.

She calmly slid the blood-stained sword back into the guard’s sheath without flinching, her expression completely unchanged.

"Go take him," Yimei commanded smoothly, holding her bleeding arm. "I will climb out through the window and meet you outside."

The shadow guard stared at her in momentary shock, awed by her cold composure, before quickly bowing and slipping down the dark hallway.

Inside her mind, the system interface lit up in wild, frantic blue flashes.

[HOST?!] Nine shrieked, the electronic voice trembling in total horror. [What on earth are you doing?! Why did you cut yourself?! Why did you send Xiao Jun’s shadow guards to kidnap your own husband?! Have you lost your mind?!]

A faint, sharp smile touched Yimei’s lips as she tore a strip of cloth from the bedsheets to wrap around her cut arm.

Calm down, Nine, Yimei replied, her voice dropping into a dark, calculated whisper as she stepped toward the open window. All of this is part of the plan. You will find out soon enough.

The two shadow guards crept down the dark hallway like ghosts. Zhengyu was nodding off in his wheelchair, exhaustion finally weighing down his eyelids, when a gloved hand clamped tightly over his nose and mouth.

His eyes snapped open in instant alarm. He thrusted his arms out to fight back, but before he could make a sound, a swift blow struck the side of his neck. Zhengyu’s vision went black, his body slumping limply into the chair. One guard hauled him onto his back while the other hoisted his wheelchair, and both men vanished through the inn’s creaky back door without making a sound.

Meanwhile, Yimei walked silently down the upper corridor toward the room where the maids were staying.

She pushed the door open quietly. Inside, Qinqin was tucked under the covers on the far side of the bed, fast asleep and breathing softly. Yimei stepped over, pulling a folded scrap of paper from her sleeve and slipping it neatly under Qinqin’s pillow.

She leaned down, brushing a stray lock of hair from Qinqin’s face, and pressed a gentle kiss onto her forehead.

"I’ll be away for a while," Yimei whispered softly into the dark room. "Take good care of yourself."

Without looking back, Yimei turned on her heel and slipped back out into the hallway.

She returned to her own chamber, crossed to the open window, and climbed out onto the icy ledge. Effortlessly dropping down into the thick snowbank below, she landed with barely a sound.

Waiting in the dark alley behind the inn were the two shadow guards. One carried the unconscious Zhengyu slung over his shoulder like a heavy sack, while the other held the folded wooden wheelchair.

Yimei smoothed down her cloak, her bleeding arm wrapped tightly under her sleeve, and looked at her target with dark, unreadable eyes.

"Move," Yimei commanded softly into the night. "Before the guards wake up."