Chapter 57 -

Chapter 57: Chapter

Yimei shook her head, turning around to head toward the wooden clothesline behind the cottage. Earlier that afternoon, Madame Zhang had given her a few thick cotton outfits to replace their ruined, blood-stained clothes. Yimei gathered the dry, freshly washed fabric into her arms, carefully folding the plain gray robe meant for Zhengyu.

She walked back inside to put the folded clothes away in the guest room. When she stepped into the hallway, her eyes immediately darted to the stool where Zhengyu had been sitting.

It was completely empty.

Yimei frowned, looking around the quiet room. She walked into the kitchen, where Old Madame Zhang was tidying up the hearth.

"Elder, where is my husband?" Yimei asked, putting on a soft, worried look.

Madame Zhang looked up with a warm chuckle. "Oh, that stubborn man of yours called A-Cheng back out. He insisted on going back out into the yard to try those wooden crutches."

Yimei sighed internally, her worried expression melting into annoyance the second she turned her back to the old woman. She set the folded clothes down and walked out into the chilly night air.

Surveillance wasn’t even necessary to find him. A few feet into the courtyard, Zhengyu was struggling violently in the snow.

He had forced his arms into the wooden shoulder rests A-Cheng had carved, his pale face flushed red with effort. His powerful arms pushed against the wood, but his legs were still weak and numb from the acupuncture. Every time he tried to lift his body weight, his knees wobbled like water.

A-Cheng stood just two steps away, hovering nervously with his hands outstretched, ready to catch him if he tipped over.

Yimei didn’t rush forward to help. Instead, she leaned casually against the wooden porch pillar, crossing her arms as she watched the entire dramatic spectacle unfold with a mocking, amused glint in her eyes.

Zhengyu gritted his teeth, forcing a step forward. But his left knee completely buckled. With a heavy thud, he collapsed hard into the freezing snow, bringing the wooden crutches down with him.

A-Cheng instantly darted forward, reaching out to grab his arms. "Brother! Let me pull you up—"

"Don’t touch me!" Zhengyu snarled, shoving A-Cheng’s hand away with raw, bitter anger. Cold sweat ran down his temples, mixing with the snow on his face. "I said stay back. I am getting up myself."

A-Cheng froze, looking over at Yimei in total helplessness. Yimei simply shook her head at A-Cheng, silently signaling for him to back off and let the proud idiot fight the snow alone. A-Cheng let out a long sigh, nodding as he stepped back to give Zhengyu space.

Zhengyu dug his fingers deep into the freezing mud, his chest heaving as he tried to drag his heavy, dead legs underneath him. He shoved the wooden crutches into the ice, trying again and again to haul himself upright, only to slip and crash right back down.

Yimei finally uncrossed her arms and strolled over. She stopped right beside his trembling frame, bending down so her face was only a few inches from his muddy, snow-covered cheek.

"My, my," Yimei murmured softly, her sweet voice dripping with pure, teasing malice. "Look at you. Fighting a battle against a pile of snow and losing miserably."

Zhengyu snapped his head up, his dark eyes burning with pure venom as he panted for breath. "Get... away from me, Yimei."

"Why should I?" Yimei smirked, tilting her head with a wicked, playful smile. "I am just being a dutiful wife, admiring her husband. Should I bring a bowl of honey out here to cheer you on, or are you planning to sleep in the mud tonight?"

Zhengyu’s jaw clamped so hard the muscles in his cheek twitched. "If you don’t shut your mouth, I will personally throw you into this snow."

"You have to stand up first to do that, dear," Yimei whispered, letting out a soft, melodious laugh as she stood up straight and watched him glare at her in utter fury.

Zhengyu stared at her for a long, furious second, his chest heaving as the bitter cold air burned his lungs. Realizing his pride wasn’t going to magically lift his useless legs out of the frozen mud, he let out a harsh breath and jerked his chin toward the younger man.

"A-Cheng," Zhengyu growled low. "Get me up."

A-Cheng didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, hooked his arms firmly under Zhengyu’s shoulders, and hauled him up out of the snow. Zhengyu gritted his teeth against the humiliating weightlessness, dragging his feet until A-Cheng managed to deposit him back onto the low wooden stool by the wall.

A-Cheng picked up the fallen wooden crutches, dusting the slush off them before leaning them against the bench. He glanced nervously between the scowling young master and the smiling young woman, sensing the thick tension in the air.

"I’ll... go check on the woodpile," A-Cheng muttered quickly, backing away toward the shed to give them space.

Left alone in the quiet courtyard, Zhengyu brushed the wet snow off his sleeves with tense, furious jerks. He didn’t look at Yimei, but he could feel her lingering presence like a sharp blade.

"Satisfied?" he spat, his jaw locked tight as he stared straight ahead into the dark yard. "You got your show. Now get out of my sight and leave me alone."

Yimei didn’t move an inch. She simply brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her smile softening into something cool, calm, and entirely unimpressed by his temper.

"If I left you alone every time you asked, you’d still be freezing to death in a ditch," Yimei said smoothly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Rest your legs, husband. We have a the rest of the week ahead of us."

Yimei looked up at the dark sky, the crisp night air turning her warm breath into small clouds of steam. "It is late," she said smoothly, completely ignoring his dark scowl. "Let’s get you ready for bed."

Before he could argue, she stepped in close and grabbed his arm, draping it over her shoulder to take his weight.

Zhengyu stiffened, letting out a sharp, annoyed sigh. Rather than trying to be polite, he intentionally dropped his full weight onto her, testing her strength as she hauled him off the stool.

Yimei wobbled for a brief second under his heavy frame. A cold, wicked thought flashed through her mind, if she simply shifted her foot and let go, he would crash straight back into the frozen mud without her spending a single ounce of stress. But she held her ground, gritting her teeth with a tight, fake smile as she dragged his stubborn body step by step through the doorway and down the quiet hallway.

She pulled back the cloth curtain to his guest room and navigated him over to the low bamboo bed. With a heavy sigh, she let go, letting him fall onto the mattress with a dull thud.

Zhengyu sank back against the headboard, his arms crossed tight over his chest, glaring at her with cold, exhausted irritation.

Yimei didn’t say a word. She turned around, left the room, and returned a moment later carrying a small wooden basin of warm water and a clean white cloth.

She set the basin down on the small side chest, dipping the cloth into the warm water before wringing it out with a quiet splash.

"Let me clean you up," Yimei said, turning toward him with a completely calm, businesslike face. "Remove your clothes."

Zhengyu’s eyes snapped wide open, his posture instantly locking up as his jaw dropped.

"Huh?!"

Zhengyu pulled his damp robe tighter around his chest, his eyes burning with outrage. "Are you insane? Get out."

Yimei didn’t flinch. She wrung the warm cloth out again, letting the excess water drip into the basin with a soft splash.

"Don’t be dramatic," she said, stepping closer to the edge of the bamboo bed. "Usually, your loyal guard Liu Feng handles your bath and clothes, doesn’t he? But unless you want to invite him here, he isn’t an option."

"I can handle myself," Zhengyu growled, his knuckles white as he held his collar shut.

"You can barely stand, let alone wash the snow and mud off your own back," Yimei replied smoothly. She tilted her head, her lips curling into a wicked, teasing smirk. "What? Should I ask A-Cheng to come in and strip you down? That would look completely normal to the Zhang family, wouldn’t it? A helpless husband refusing his wife’s touch so another man can clean him?"

Zhengyu’s jaw locked, a vein pulsing at his temple. "That is none of your business."

"It becomes my business when our cover gets blown because you’re acting like a timid maiden," Yimei purred, leaning down until her face was inches from his furious glare. "Don’t forget, Young Master, we are playing a lovey-dovey couple who survived a tragic attack. What is a little nakedness to a deeply devoted husband and wife?"

Zhengyu scoffed, turning his face toward the wall with a harsh, bitter hum. "You really have no shame, do you?"

"Shame doesn’t win wars," Yimei whispered softly near his ear. She reached out, her cool fingers unceremoniously tugging the damp knot of his outer sash loose. "Now stop whining and hold still."