Chapter 50 -

Chapter 50: Chapter

Yimei pounded her frozen fist against the heavy wooden door, the dull thuds echoing into the dark compound behind it.

"Please! Is anyone there? Help us!" Yimei cried out, her voice loud enough to cut through the howling wind.

Beside her, Zhengyu gasped as he woke up. His head throbbed, and his body burned with cold. He looked down at his rough, dirty clothes and then at Yimei. "What... what did you do to me? Where are my robes? Where is my chair?!"

"Husband, please, be quiet!" Yimei sobbed, her eyes wide with fake terror. "The bandits... they might hear us!"

"Bandits?!" Zhengyu glared at her, his jaw tight with rage. He grabbed her arm hard. "You crazy woman, you did this! I am going to—"

"Shut your mouth," Yimei hissed close to his ear, her voice dropping into a deadly, ice-cold whisper that made him freeze. "Say one word about who you are, and I will make sure you never walk again."

Before Zhengyu could speak, the heavy wooden latch clicked open.

An old man stepped out holding a dimly lit lantern. It was Grandmaster Zhang. He looked at the bruised, bloody couple shivering on his doorstep and frowned.

"Who is making all this noise in the middle of the night?" the old man asked, his voice sharp but curious. "Who are you, girl, and what happened to you two?"

Before Yimei could answer, an older woman hurried out from the courtyard, wrapping a blanket around herself. "Husband, who is out there in this storm?"

The old woman stopped, gasping as she saw Yimei’s bleeding arm and Zhengyu lying helpless in the snow. "Oh, merciful heavens! Look at them! They are going to freeze to death!" She turned back toward the house and shouted, "A-Cheng! Come out here and help!"

A tall, strong young man ran out into the cold. Without waiting, he knelt down and lifted Zhengyu up into his arms like he weighed nothing.

Zhengyu’s face turned bright red with pure humiliation. A simple farmer’s son was carrying him like a child! He opened his mouth to shout, to tell them all that he was well known Young Master Bai.

Yimei shot him a look so cold and dangerous that the words caught in his throat. He clenched his teeth, swallowing his pride, as A-Cheng carried him straight into the warm compound.

Old Madame Zhang guided Yimei inside, closing the heavy gate tight to keep out the freezing wind.

As the lock clicked shut, Yimei looked down and let out a quiet breath. The first step of her plan worked. They were finally inside the house.

The house was big and very warm, completely hiding the bitter cold from outside. The air smelled strongly of sweet tea, drying wood, and bitter herbal medicine. It was clearly the home of an old doctor.

Old Madame Zhang quickly brought a clean, dry towel and draped it over Yimei’s head, gently drying her hair from the melted snow.

"Sit down here by the fire, dear," the old woman said softly, helping Yimei to a low wooden stool. "Warm yourself up first."

At the same time, the son, A-Cheng, carefully set Zhengyu down on a thick mat on the floor. While carrying him, A-Cheng had noticed that Zhengyu’s legs were completely soft and limp. He realized the man was either badly hurt from the attack or simply could not walk at all.

Zhengyu sat stiffly on the floor with his back against the wall. His hands were clenched into tight fists inside his cheap, rough sleeves. His face was dark with pure humiliation and anger. He was the eldest Young Master of the Bai family, but now he was sitting on the floor of a simple village house like a helpless beggar, all because of the woman sitting quietly across from him.

Grandmaster Zhang walked over, his sharp eyes examining the two uninvited guests. He set his lantern on a nearby wooden table, crossed his arms, and looked down at Yimei.

"Now, girl," Grandmaster Zhang said, his voice quiet and stern. "Tell me who you are and what brought you to my door at this hour."

Yimei lowered her head, letting a single tear fall down her pale cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut, portraying a desperate, exhausted wife who had reached her breaking point.

"My name is Xiao Yue," Yimei wept softly, her voice trembling with emotion. She pointed toward Zhengyu with a shaking hand. "And this is my husband, A-Li. We are just poor farmers from the northern village."

Zhengyu didn’t throw a violent temper tantrum. Instead, the wild anger in his eyes slowly cooled into an icy, calculating stare. Xiao Yue? A-Li?! He leaned his back against the wall, his dark eyes locked on her face with silent, deadly calm. He knew shouting would reveal his identity and ruin whatever dangerous game she was playing. He simply watched her, taking mental note of every lie falling from her lips.

"We were on our way to the market town," Yimei continued, laying down a seamless web of lies. "My husband’s legs have been weak for years, so he was riding in our small wooden cart. But on the mountain pass... bandits came out of nowhere. They took our small savings, killed our mule, and smashed our cart to pieces."

She pulled back her sleeve slightly, revealing the cut on her arm to the old doctor.

"I managed to drag him away into the woods," Yimei sobbed, her breath coming in soft, ragged hitches. "We traveled for hours in the storm. I heard rumors of a kind, legendary physician in this village... so I prayed and kept moving until I saw your gate. Please, Elder, we have no money, but I will work as your servant for as long as it takes if you just help my husband!"

Grandmaster Zhang watched her for a long, silent moment, searching her face for any sign of deceit.

[DING!] Nine’s interface chimed smoothly in Yimei’s mind. [Deception check successful. Grandmaster Zhang’s hostility toward you has dropped by 40%. He fully accepts your cover story.]

Old Madame Zhang wiped a tear from her eye, turning to her husband. "Look at how much she cares for him, old man! She dragged a helpless man through a blizzard on her own back. Have some heart!"

Grandmaster Zhang let out a quiet sigh, his rigid posture relaxing. He turned his attention toward Zhengyu. The young man sat completely still on the floor, his expression cold, guarded, and unreadable. To the grandmaster, Zhengyu’s silent, heavy stare looked like the bitter pride of a husband who hated relying on his wife’s suffering.

"All right, child, save your tears," Grandmaster Zhang said, stepping over toward Zhengyu. "Let me take a look at his legs."