Chapter 96 -

Chapter 96: Chapter

As Yimei stepped onto the wooden walkway leading toward the roofed balcony, a quiet, electronic chime sounded inside her head.

[Host! I detected your attempt to gather background information on the target,] Nine’s cheerful voice chimed in. [If you need the details of how Bai Zhengyu was poisoned and paralyzed three years ago, I can unlock his full file from the system database right now!]

Yimei stopped her footsteps for a brief second, looking out over the frost-covered stone courtyard. She tilted her head slightly, answering the system in her mind.

No thanks, Nine, Yimei replied calmly. Keep the file locked.

[Eh? Why?] Nine asked, sounding genuinely surprised. [Having his past secrets would give you a massive advantage! You could use it to manipulate his emotional trust much faster!]

I don’t need a cheat code for this, Yimei said, a faint, resolute smile touching her lips as she continued walking toward the balcony. He closed off because it’s a deep wound. When he is ready to trust me with it, he will tell me himself.

[Suit yourself, Host! But be warned, your nosey question put him in a bad mood!] Nine beeped, its tone dropping into a cautious warning. [Target’s favorability score has dropped! Zhengyu’s favorability decreased by 5 points! Current favorability: 20 points!]

Yimei chuckled softly to herself, unbothered by the sudden dip in points. Let it drop. A man like Zhengyu doesn’t open his heart easily, especially to a wife he is still testing. We have work to do anyway.

She reached the roofed balcony, where the morning sun cast a bright, crisp light over the low wooden dining table. A small charcoal brazier burned quietly in the corner, keeping the open-air seating area warm against the winter chill.

Qinqin was already there, carefully arranging steaming clay pots filled with hot rice porridge, boiled eggs, fried dough sticks, and pickled vegetables across the table.

Moments later, the quiet rolling of wheels sounded along the wooden floorboards. Liu Feng pushed Zhengyu out onto the balcony, bringing his wheelchair right up to the table before quietly stepping back to stand guard near the stairs.

Zhengyu’s face was still cold and distant, his dark eyes fixed on the steaming food in front of him. The tense aura from his room still hung heavily around his broad shoulders.

Yimei sat down across from him, completely ignoring his dark mood as she poured two cups of hot jasmine tea.

"Eat while it’s hot," Yimei said smoothly, sliding a bowl of warm porridge toward him. "We have a massive farm estate to rescue."

Zhengyu looked up, his dark gaze locking onto her calm, confident face. Seeing that she wasn’t treading lightly around him or trying to pry into his past again, the tight line of his jaw loosened just a fraction. He picked up his wooden spoon, taking a quiet bite of the warm porridge.

"The farm manager in charge of the southern fields is named Manager Zhao," Zhengyu said, his deep voice smooth as he jumped straight into business. "He has been working for Second Uncle for six years. He will not hand over the real account books easily."

Yimei set her teacup down, her dark eyes sparkling with sharp intelligence. "Then we don’t ask him for the books. We go straight to the fields."

Zhengyu put his spoon down, his dark eyes sharp as he looked across the table at Yimei. "Go to the fields directly? Manager Zhao will have fake account books ready the moment he hears we are coming. He will show you dry dirt, blame the cold weather, and claim half the winter wheat died."

"Which is why we don’t look at the wheat first," Yimei said, leaning forward over her tea with a clever smile. "We check the main water gates at the top of the river."

Zhengyu raised an eyebrow. "Because if he claims bad weather ruined the soil..."

"...the water channels at the top would still be completely dry if there was a real drought," Yimei finished smoothly. "But if the water gates are open and the water was sent down to Second Uncle’s private fruit garden nearby—"

"—then the ruined crops are a big lie," Zhengyu said, his voice turning cold and sharp. "And we take the fruit garden’s money as stolen property of the main house."

"Exactly. But we can’t just march in with guards, or Manager Zhao will burn his real records before we even get there," Yimei added, taking a bite of a fried dough stick. "We need a fake reason to check the top river without making him suspicious."

"The spring tools check," Zhengyu said instantly. "We tell everyone we are checking the wooden plows at the storehouse on the north side—"

"—while I quickly head to the top river with Liu Feng to check the water lines," Yimei added, taking another bite. "By the time Zhao realizes what we are actually looking at, we will already have the proof written down."

Beside the railing, Qinqin stood with her mouth wide open, staring at both of them. Next to her, Liu Feng, who usually kept a strict stone face, raised his eyebrows in complete shock. The two of them couldn’t believe it. their Young Master and Young Madame were bouncing ideas back and forth so fast, finishing each other’s sentences like they had been working together for years.

Zhengyu reached for his chopsticks to pick up some vegetables, his mind still working through their sharp plan. But as his fingers tightened around the polished wood, his hand suddenly shook.

Clack.

One of the chopsticks slipped from his grip, bouncing off his bowl and falling onto the wooden floor.

The fast, lively talk stopped instantly.

The balcony went dead quiet. Zhengyu froze, his hand sticking in the air. His face turned rigid, a dark, heavy shadow falling over his eyes as he looked down at his empty fingers.

Liu Feng moved immediately. Kneeling down quickly and quietly, he picked up the fallen chopstick and pulled a fresh, clean pair from his sleeve, placing them neatly beside Zhengyu’s hand. He did it without saying a word, trying his best to hide the mistake and protect his master’s pride.

Zhengyu didn’t touch the new chopsticks. He sat completely still in his wheelchair, looking away from the table.

For three long, painful years, he had eaten every single meal alone.

He had stayed trapped inside his dark, cold room with the shutters closed tight, eating alone in the dark while the rest of the Bai family laughed and ate together in the main halls. He had hidden away like a ghost, ashamed of his useless legs and weak body.

Today was the very first time in three years he had stepped out of that dark room to eat a meal with anyone else.

Zhengyu looked slowly around the courtyard. The morning sun was bright, shining on the clean, white snow covering the ground. In the far corner, a young servant was quietly sweeping the steps. Everything looked quiet, clean, and peaceful.

Then his eyes moved back to the woman sitting across from him.

Yimei was calmly sipping her warm tea, her cheeks slightly pink from the morning cold. She didn’t look at his shaking hand with pity. She didn’t gasp or make a big deal out of the dropped chopstick. She just sat there, completely relaxed, waiting for him to continue talking.

Zhengyu stared at her, a strange, heavy feeling filling his chest.

She was an absolute mystery. She was sharp, fearless, and impossible to guess. One moment she was teasing him, the next she was acting like a strict doctor pinning him down, and now she was planning a business war against his uncles over a bowl of rice porridge.

He couldn’t guess what she would do next. He couldn’t control her. And yet, this wild, unpredictable woman was officially his wife.

Zhengyu slowly reached out, his fingers closing around the fresh chopsticks Liu Feng had left for him.

"We leave for the farm at noon," Zhengyu said, his deep voice cutting through the cold air. He picked up a soft steamed bun and placed it straight into Yimei’s bowl. "Eat more. If you are going to run up the river hill while I handle the storehouse, you will need your energy."

Yimei looked at the bun in her bowl, then looked up at his cold, quiet face.

"Whatever you say husband."