Chapter 74 -

Chapter 74: Chapter

Yimei gathered the fresh herbs and roots Grandmaster Zhang had packed for her, carefully measuring out the exact proportions to brew Zhengyu’s medicine.

Knowing how bitter the decoction was and remembering that he had been secretly shivering earlier, she decided to prepare a warm meal for him too. She quickly whipped up a fresh pot of steaming porridge and a plate of warm dumplings, making sure to scoop out enough for herself as well.

Once everything was ready, she arranged the bowls onto a heavy wooden tray and carried it across the quiet courtyard toward his chamber.

Inside the bedroom, Zhengyu was already cleaned up and dressed in soft, loose night robes. He sat in his wheelchair near the low table, his eyes glued to the closed double doors. Every few seconds, his gaze flicked toward the entrance, his fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against his armrest as if waiting for a specific someone to walk through.

Standing nearby, Liu Feng caught the anxious flicker in his master’s eyes and hid a tiny, knowing smile behind his hand. He had served the First Young Master for years, and it was rare to see him look so restless.

Knock, knock.

A light tap echoed against the wooden door frame.

Zhengyu flinched slightly, caught entirely off guard. A sudden wave of panic flashed across his face. He quickly sat up straighter, grabbed a random book from the table, and held it up in front of his face, pretending to be deeply engrossed in reading.

"Enter," Zhengyu called out, keeping his voice as flat and uninterested as possible.

Yimei pushed the door open with her elbow, stepping into the warm, candlelit room while balancing the heavy tray in her hands.

"Still awake, First Young Master?" Yimei teased, setting the tray down onto the table with a soft clatter. "Or were you just sitting here waiting for your dinner?"

Zhengyu didn’t lower the book right away. From behind the paper pages, his dark eyes darted down toward the tray. The rich, savory aroma of freshly cooked dumplings and hot rice porridge immediately filled the quiet room, completely overpowering the sharp, bitter scent of the herbal decoction.

Liu Feng’s stomach let out an unfaithful rumble at the smell, causing the attendant to quickly cough and bow to cover his embarrassment.

"Young Madame," Liu Feng said, stepping forward respectfully. "Let me take that for you."

"It’s fine, Liu Feng," Yimei said, setting the steaming bowls down. She looked over at the attendant’s chilled hands and offered a gentle smile. "There’s plenty left in the kitchen. Go grab yourself a hot bowl of porridge and get some rest for the night. I’ll take care of your master from here."

Liu Feng hesitated for a fraction of a second, glancing over at Zhengyu. Seeing that the First Young Master didn’t voice any objection, Liu Feng bowed low. "Thank you, Young Madame. I will take my leave then."

As the wooden door clicked shut behind Liu Feng, the room fell into a cozy, candlelit silence.

Zhengyu finally snapped his book shut and set it on the table with a soft thud. He glared at the spread of food, trying hard to maintain his cold, unbothered posture, though his eyes kept drifting back to the warm dumplings.

"I didn’t ask you to cook for me," Zhengyu grumbled, his voice low, though the slight pink flush returning to the tips of his ears betrayed him completely. "The kitchen staff could have handled it."

"The kitchen staff doesn’t know the exact balance of herbs needed to clear the lingering chill from your meridians," Yimei replied smoothly, taking a seat opposite him and pushing the bowl of porridge closer to his side. "Besides, you barely ate anything on the road back. Eat first, then drink the medicine while it’s still warm."

Zhengyu stared at her for a long moment, his defensive tsundere wall fighting a losing battle against his actual hunger.

Host, Nine’s voice echoed pleasantly in her mind. Target’s internal defense is lowering. Favorability +1! Current favorability: 18 points.

A sharp, satisfied smirk touched the corner of Yimei’s lips. Slow and steady wins the race.

Zhengyu picked up his chopsticks, shooting her a warning glance when he caught her amused expression. "Stop smiling like that. It’s creeping me out."

"Just eat, First Young Master," Yimei teased gently, picking up her own bowl. "We have a big morning tomorrow, and your family is already sharpening their knives for us."

"I’m not going to any breakfast tomorrow," Zhengyu said coldly, setting his chopsticks down after just a few bites. "They can eat without me."

Yimei stopped chewing, setting her own bowl down. "Did you already forget the advice Grandmaster Zhang gave you? You need to move around and keep your joints active in the morning air if you want those legs to heal properly. Retreating to your room every time your family acts up isn’t helping your recovery."

At the mention of his condition and the reminder, Zhengyu’s face instantly turned icy. His eyes darkened, a bitter, defensive chill washing over his features as he stared her down, shutting himself off completely.

Seeing that sharp, brooding look return to his face, Yimei didn’t look intimidated at all—she simply rolled her eyes.

Without hesitation, she snatched up a plump, warm dumpling with her chopsticks, leaned right across the small table, and forced it straight into his open, mid-protest mouth.

Zhengyu’s eyes widened in absolute shock. His cheeks puffed out around the dumpling, his words muffled as his brain completely short-circuited. He froze, glaring at her with a mix of fury and sheer disbelief, chewing rapidly just so he wouldn’t choke.

"Don’t give me that cold look," Yimei said, leaning back into her seat with a satisfied grin. "Eat your food, drink your medicine, and stop being so dramatic. We’re both going to breakfast tomorrow."

Zhengyu swallowed the last bitter drop of the medicine, his face twisting slightly at the harsh taste. Satisfied, Yimei gathered the empty bowls and stacked them onto the wooden tray, standing up ready to head back to her own room for some much-needed sleep.

"Wait," Zhengyu said, his voice quiet as his hand reached out, catching the edge of her sleeve before she could step away.

Yimei paused, raising an eyebrow down at him. "What is it?"

Zhengyu looked away quickly, staring intently at the floor, though his grip on her robe didn’t loosen. "The decoction... it always makes me feel extremely cold during the night."

Yimei stared at him, completely unbothered by his sudden attempt at seeking comfort.

"So what?" she replied, letting out a small laugh. "Use an extra blanket. Liu Feng is right outside if you need help, or have you forgotten that you don’t even allow me in your room at night?"

Zhengyu’s throat worked as he swallowed, his jaw tightening as he slowly let go of her sleeve. He pulled his hand back into his lap, his usual guarded mask slipping right back into place, though his ears flushed a dark red.

"Never mind," he muttered coldly, looking back toward the candle on the table. "Forget I said anything. Go back to your room."

Yimei shook her head with an amused smile, picking up her tray. "Goodnight, First Young Master. Don’t freeze to death before breakfast."