Chapter 95 -

Chapter 95: Chapter

Yimei smoothed down her clothes, her cheeks still holding a faint glow from the embarrassment. She sat back on the edge of the bed, carefully closing the wooden lid of her medicine jar.

Zhengyu lay quietly under the thick cotton quilt, his face slowly returning to its normal color. His deep, dark eyes were fixed on the ceiling overhead, full of serious thought. The cold, distant space between them returned, thick and full of tension.

"Yimei," Zhengyu spoke up, his voice low, cold, and flat in the quiet room.

"Yes?" Yimei asked, looking over at him.

"Starting tomorrow," Zhengyu said slowly, turning his head just a little to look at her without moving the rest of his body, "I will start learning how to walk again."

Yimei’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise.

"Grandmaster Zhang told me before that if I want to recover, I must try my best to move my legs," Zhengyu continued, his sharp jaw setting into a tight, stubborn line. "I cannot stay stuck in this wheelchair forever."

Yimei watched his serious face, her expression softening into a gentle smile. She nodded her head softly.

"You should try," Yimei said gently. "It is good that you want to stand up on your own. But Zhengyu, you must promise me one thing, you cannot overdo it."

Zhengyu frowned, his eyes turning cold again. "I need to get strong fast."

"And if you rush, you will only hurt yourself again," Yimei warned, her tone turning strict and practical. "Your muscles have been frozen for years because of the poison. Soon, the acupuncture treatments will become more intense to bring back full feeling to your legs. Once the trapped energy clears out, your muscles will grow back, and the paralysis will finally be completely cured."

She leaned in a little closer, her eyes bright with clear care. "So you must take it carefully, step by step. Do not force your body too hard, or you will ruin all the great progress we have made so far. Do you understand me?"

Zhengyu looked at her, his face stiff and expressionless. He didn’t reach for her hand. Instead, he pulled his arms tight against his own chest under the heavy blanket, carefully keeping his distance so he wouldn’t mistakenly touch her again.

"I understand," Zhengyu said coldly, looking back up at the wooden ceiling.

He cleared his throat, his posture rigid as he shifted as far to his side of the mattress as possible. "Now... close your eyes and stay on your side of the bed. Do not move around in your sleep."

Yimei rolled her eyes at his sudden stiff attitude, but a small smile touched her lips anyway.

The morning sun rose cold and bright over the frozen roofs of the Bai estate.

Yimei sat at her wooden dressing table, pulling her long black hair up into a neat, practical bun and securing it with a simple jade hairpin. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she let out a long, heavy sigh.

Starting today, her life was about to become three times as busy.

First, she had to oversee the production of her ginger tea at Xiao Jun’s Wenlong Tea House. The demand in the capital was growing fast, and she needed to make sure her herbal blend was prepared properly without anyone stealing her secret recipe.

Second, she had to handle the full renovation of the huge pavilion Zhengyu had handed over to her in the East Market. Transforming that abandoned building into a high-class business would take endless planning, wood orders, and daily visits.

And third, they had to tackle the massive task Old Madame Bai gave them at the main hall—managing the seasonal farm estates and doubling the harvest profit by the end of the season.

Yimei turned to Qinqin, who was straightening the bed covers. "Qinqin, go to the kitchen and tell them to prepare breakfast for two. Tell them to bring it up to the roofed balcony in Zhengyu’s courtyard. We will eat together there this morning."

"Yes, Young Madame!" Qinqin replied, bowing before hurrying out.

Yimei stood up, smoothing down her thick winter dress, and walked out into the cold courtyard toward Zhengyu’s room. She had already inserted the silver acupuncture needles into his legs early this morning to warm his blood, and the two hours were almost up. It was time to remove them.

She pushed open his room doors. Zhengyu was sitting in his wheelchair by the window, wearing a heavy dark robe. On his lap lay a thick stack of farm account books that the estate manager had delivered early that morning.

Yimei walked straight over and knelt by his knees. She pulled out her medical cloth and cleanly removed each silver needle one by one, wiping them before placing them away in her wooden box.

"How do your legs feel today?" Yimei asked, checking his pulse.

"Warmer," Zhengyu answered in his usual calm voice. He looked down at the scroll in his hands, his dark brows pulling together in a tight line. "Look at these numbers. The Second Branch has been secretly taking ten percent of the crop profits every year, calling it bad weather losses."

Yimei placed the last clean silver needle into her wooden case, snapping the lid shut. She looked up into Zhengyu’s dark, guarded eyes, her curiosity finally getting the better of her.

"Zhengyu," Yimei asked quietly, keeping her tone casual. "How did you actually end up paralyzed? I know it happened three years ago, but no one in this manor ever gives a straight answer."

The air in the room instantly froze.

Zhengyu’s relaxed posture went stiff as iron. His face turned completely cold and expressionless, the dark light in his eyes shutting down like a snuffed candle flame.

Without saying a single word, the moment Yimei pulled her hands back from his knees, Zhengyu gripped the wooden wheels of his chair with his powerful upper body strength and rolled himself forward, putting several feet of cold space between them. He turned his back to her, staring fixedly out the frosted window. ℴ

Yimei noted the sharp shift in his mood. She knew better than to push a wounded tiger into a corner. Recognizing that he was not ready to uncover that old wound, she didn’t force the topic and let it drop naturally.

She stood up smoothly, picking up her medical box.

"I’ve asked Qinqin to bring our breakfast up to the roofed balcony in your courtyard," Yimei said, her voice warm and completely unbothered, as if the heavy silence hadn’t just filled the room. "Come outside when you are ready. We have a major project on our hands now, and it will be best for us to plan our strategy while we eat."

Without waiting for his answer, she turned and walked out into the crisp morning air, leaving him to his quiet thoughts.