9

“I’d like to take it with me,” Ye Jiao said.

Her words surprised Dong Da a little. After all, this tiny plant, while it did bloom out of season, would only live for a year. It couldn’t be eaten, couldn’t be worn, and its flowers were pitifully small—nowhere near as vibrant as other blooms.

But Dong Da didn’t hesitate for even a second. If a little shiya grass could make the Second Young Madam happy, it was well worth it in his eyes.

He quickly called over a nearby apprentice to help transplant it. Ye Jiao spoke up again, “Since it grows in stone, place a rock in the flowerpot with it.”

She remembered clearly—it thrived in stone crevices. If buried only in soil, the little thing would suffocate and wilt in no time.

Clearly, it didn’t like “eating dirt.”

Dong Da chuckled and said, “You’re absolutely right, Second Young Madam.” Then he turned to the boy and barked, “Well? Go find a stone already!”

The boy soon returned with a suitable rock, placing it inside the flowerpot and securing it with some mud. Once the shiya grass was moved over, its red flowers continued to sway in the breeze—but it somehow looked livelier than before.

Ye Jiao had originally intended to carry the pot herself, but Xiaosu, quick as ever, snatched it up and held it in her arms. “Let me, Young Madam. You don’t want to dirty your hands.”

She’d once heard Second Young Master Qi Yun say almost the same thing to Ye Jiao. That man hadn’t even let her touch chicken feed—how could he possibly let her carry a flowerpot?

Thinking of her own scrawny, patchy-tailed little black chicken, Xiaosu wrinkled her nose.

Ye Jiao didn’t insist. She entered the front hall with Xiaosu, asking as they walked, “Manager Dong, is shiya grass easy to find?”

Dong Da replied right away, “Not really. It’s delicate and only lives for a year. Most people wouldn’t even recognize it, and finding a lot of it would be quite difficult.”

Ye Jiao sighed with a hint of regret—but she wasn’t greedy.

Coming across even one shiya grass was already a stroke of luck—she couldn’t expect to find more than that.

By the time they returned to the front hall, Liu mama had already brought out the egg custard, along with two small side dishes.

Ye Jiao washed her hands and sat down. When she saw Xiaosu staring eagerly at her, she couldn’t help but laugh and said to Liu mama, “Give her a bowl, would you? And you should eat something too, Liu Mama —after the long trip, you must be hungry.”

Xiaosu immediately beamed with delight, and Liu mama didn’t decline either. She thanked Ye Jiao and helped herself to some of the side dishes. Ye Jiao also ladled out a portion of the egg custard for Xiaosu.

Meanwhile, Ye Jiao kept her eyes fixed on the tiny red flowers of the shiya grass, her thoughts preoccupied with how she was going to take care of this delicate little thing. Absentmindedly, she scooped a spoonful of the egg custard into her mouth.

She hadn’t known what egg custard was before. She’d only remembered it because Ye Bao had kept whining about it earlier.

The moment it touched her tongue, she was struck by how smooth and velvety it was. There were tiny pieces of shredded chicken mixed in, and the aroma of sesame oil lingered pleasantly with every bite.

She had only asked for it on a whim—but after the first taste, she couldn’t stop. Before she knew it, she’d finished the entire bowl.

Patting her stomach, Ye Jiao let out a soft sigh of satisfaction.

Being human is wonderful.

After the meal, Ye Jiao brought the flowerpot with the shiya grass and rode the ox cart back home.

As soon as they arrived, she made straight for her courtyard, walking so quickly that Xiaosu had to trot to keep up.

When Ye Jiao pushed open the door, she immediately spotted Qi Yun sitting behind the table, wrapped in his outer robe, looking a little surprised—as if he hadn’t expected her to return so soon.

Ye Jiao’s bright eyes widened slightly, her soft lips pressed into a faint pout.

Qi Yun felt a little confused. Normally, Ye Jiao was all smiles and chatter—this was the first time he’d seen her with such an expression. He couldn’t help but wonder: Is my wife upset?

Afraid she might catch cold, Ye Jiao quickly waved Xiaosu, who was still holding the flowerpot, to come inside. Then she shut the door firmly behind them.

When she turned around, her brows were already furrowed. “Husband, you promised me you’d rest properly. What if you catch a chill again?”

Resting meant lying in bed quietly. How could he be up and about?

Qi Yun finally realized she was worried about him, and couldn’t help but smile. He set down the brush in his hand and explained gently, “I slept all afternoon and felt a little stiff. I got up, ate, and thought I’d take a look at the accounts since it’s still early.”

“You should still be lying down. You really can’t risk getting sick again.” Ye Jiao stepped forward to help him, but when she noticed he was still in his bedclothes and she hadn’t yet changed out of her travel clothes, she worried her chill might affect him. She stopped and said, “Go on and lie down properly—I’ll stay here and keep watch.”

Qi Yun had actually felt fine after waking up—no more dizziness, and even a rare sense of comfort. But hearing the care in Ye Jiao’s voice warmed him from the inside out. Without protest, he stood and returned to bed, bundling himself tightly under the covers.

Once he was tucked in, he looked over at Ye Jiao, his expression calm. “Why are you back so early today?”

Seeing he had listened, her brows relaxed and she smiled. “I was worried about you, so I came home early.”

The words were simple and sincere. Ye Jiao had always been someone who said exactly what was on her mind. But to Qi Yun, it felt incredibly heartwarming.

Like a quiet fire spreading through his chest.

Ye Jiao didn’t notice the trace of emotion on his face. She continued, “On the way back, I stopped by the herb garden and brought this back.”

Xiaosu, who had been standing quietly off to the side, lifted the flowerpot slightly at Ye Jiao’s words.

Qi Yun only gave it a quick glance before saying, “Shiya grass—pretty rare. Not easy to come by.”

Ye Jiao was surprised. “You recognize it too? But Manager Dong said it wasn’t very common.”

Qi Yun didn’t find it strange at all. In a calm tone, he replied, “I usually have nothing better to do, so I read a lot of miscellaneous books. It was mentioned in one, so I remembered it.”

“You’re amazing, Husband!”

“There’s nothing amazing about that.” Though he said it lightly, a smile was already tugging at the corners of his lips.

Ye Jiao was adamant—if her husband could remember everything he read, that made him far more capable than others.

But then Qi Yun seemed to think of something and looked up. “Did you go visit my mother after you got back?”

Ye Jiao shook her head honestly. “Not yet.”

Qi Yun smiled and said, “You should still go see her. Whenever my brothers and I go out, we always stop by to see Mother after we return. Now that you’ve married into the family, you’re half her daughter too. It’s only right to let her know you’re back.”

Ye Jiao always listened to him, and she nodded immediately. “I’ll remember that.”

“You don’t need to say much—just let her know the return visit went well.”

Ye Jiao made a mental note of it as something she needed to learn now that she was living as a human. She nodded obediently. “Alright.”

Before leaving the room, she reminded Xiaosu, “Make sure you place the shiya grass somewhere indoors where it gets sunlight. Don’t move it outside.”

Only after Xiaosu nodded did Ye Jiao head out toward Liu mama’s courtyard.

Xiaosu quickly got to arranging the flowerpot, but she couldn’t hide the shock on her face.

She had been working in the Qi household for nearly two years, and from the very first time she’d seen Qi Yun, he had never once looked like someone with a gentle temperament. He was always silent, expression stiff and lifeless—like a walking corpse.

Let alone smiling—she could count the number of times he’d even spoken on one hand.

But just now, he had smiled so softly at Ye Jiao, his voice warm and gentle. Even though his face was still pale, he looked far more alive than usual.

Xiaosu suddenly wondered if she’d misjudged Second Young Master all along. Maybe he wasn’t cold-hearted… maybe he was just sickly on the outside but warm on the inside?

But the moment she turned around after placing the flowerpot and caught sight of Qi Yun, she nearly jumped.

That same cold, unreadable face.

Pale skin, dark eyes, expression like a thundercloud—just as intimidating as ever!

Xiaosu felt a chill run down her spine, freezing her in place. She wanted to smack herself.

What was I even thinking just now?! That gentle Second Young Master was obviously a hallucination!

Qi Yun had half-sat up in bed, leaning back against his pillow, his gaze fixed calmly on Xiaosu.

She jolted upright like a startled rabbit, standing perfectly straight.

Qi Yun had no intention of scaring her. He asked mildly, “Why did Jiao-niang really come back so early?”

Ye Jiao had said it was because she was worried about him, and while it did sound sincere, Qi Yun hadn’t entirely believed it.

Xiaosu didn’t hesitate. Like spilling beans from a bamboo tube, she told him everything that had just happened—every detail, clear and precise.

When Qi Yun heard that the Ye family hadn’t prepared a return-visit meal, his brows furrowed slightly.

When he heard that Ye Jiao had deliberately avoided her second sister-in-law, he let out a quiet cough.

But when Xiaosu mentioned Ye Bao’s loud outburst, Qi Yun finally spoke: “That’s enough.”

His tone was calm, almost emotionless—but it was enough to make Xiaosu fall silent immediately.

Qi Yun truly hadn’t expected the Ye family to be so lacking in basic decency. They couldn’t even handle appearances properly.

Behind closed doors, they couldn’t manage their own affairs. Out in public, they didn’t even know how to save face.

Liu mama had let Ye Jiao return home to give her a chance—to see for herself what kind of people her family really were, so she wouldn’t keep holding on to those ties.

Now it seemed that the Ye family was even more disappointing than they’d expected.

If they could stay in their place from now on, that would be best. But if they didn’t…

Qi Yun’s expression didn’t change, but the thought lingered coldly in his mind. He waved Xiaosu off with a small gesture. She quickly turned and left, carefully closing the door behind her before dashing away without looking back.

Qi Yun then lifted the quilt, slipped on his shoes, and walked over to the table. He picked up the ledger and began reading.

He opened the drawer and took out Ye Erlang’s IOU.

After glancing over it, Qi Yun—expression calm as ever—placed the note, which should have been destroyed long ago, into a wooden box. He locked it, then stored it away in a cabinet.

Taking the ledger from the table, he returned to the bed. Still wearing his outer robe and now wrapped in a quilt, he leaned against the headboard and quietly flipped the pages.

Just then, Ye Jiao returned.

At the sight of his wife, the chill in Qi Yun’s expression melted instantly. His face softened, his eyes gentle.

Seeing that he was still properly resting in bed, Ye Jiao smiled too. She placed the food container she was carrying on the table. “You slept in this morning and missed your medicine. It’s fine if you take it now. I’ll bring it over once I’ve changed.”

Qi Yun gave a quiet “Mm,” his expression steady.

To him, medicine was nothing new. From the moment he could remember, he had been drinking bitter brews, bowl after bowl, with little improvement to show for it.

Over the years, the same concoctions that made others grimace had become routine—he could down them twice a day without so much as blinking. It was as if his tongue had become numb from the constant bitterness.

In the past, missing a dose wouldn’t have bothered him. But things were different now. Now, he wanted to live. If that meant taking every dose without fail, then so be it.

Meanwhile, Ye Jiao picked out one of her usual everyday outfits and walked toward the folding screen near the bed.

Qi Yun’s eyes drifted briefly to the screen before returning to the ledger.

The screen in his room wasn’t the finely carved kind used in noble households. It was a simple wooden partition, etched with plum, orchid, bamboo, and chrysanthemum motifs. Though parts of it were openwork, it wasn’t see-through at a glance.

It was usually used to block view during baths or when changing clothes.

Qi Yun hadn’t even thought of sneaking a look. He cherished his wife and cared deeply for her, but he was a man of discipline. Right now, his focus was firmly on the account book in his hands.

He’d made up his mind. In the past, when death had seemed inevitable, business had been a low priority. But now—now that he had someone to live for—even if it was just for her sake, he had to put in the effort.

The book in his hands detailed the accounts for the family’s wine shop and herbal medicine store. No matter what the future held, he was determined to build a solid foundation for his little wife.

Just then, Ye Jiao’s voice came from behind the screen: “Husband, Mother said you don’t need to go over for dinner the next few days. Your health is more important, so you should stay put.”

“Alright,” Qi Yun replied. He glanced up—and caught sight of the clothes she had hung over the screen.

Her outer robe was delicate, her skirt simple and elegant, and a plain-colored bodice hung neatly with its thin straps swaying ever so slightly.

For some reason, Qi Yun’s mind flashed back to the morning after their wedding—the image of her kneeling beside his bed, the delicate strap of her bodice trailing down her back, exposing smooth, jade-like shoulders and a long, graceful neck…

When Ye Jiao stepped out from behind the screen, she saw Qi Yun leaning back against his pillow, appearing fully absorbed in the ledger in his hands.

He looked composed, but Ye Jiao noticed something—his ears were bright red.

Blinking curiously, she reached out and touched them, feeling the heat radiating from his skin.

Surprised, she immediately assumed he was feeling unwell and quickly took his wrist in her hand.

Qi Yun, used to her unconventional way of checking his pulse, thought she was simply worried.

After a moment, Ye Jiao found nothing unusual.

She tilted her head, looking puzzled, and asked in her soft, cottony voice, “Husband, are you feeling alright?”

Staring at the ledger, Qi Yun’s lips moved slightly. “I’m fine. Maybe… it’s just a bit too warm in here.”

Ye Jiao didn’t question it. She figured it was probably the tonic from last night still taking effect and smiled, letting go of his wrist before turning to fetch his medicine bowl from the table.

As soon as her back was turned, Qi Yun let out a long, silent breath.

Clearly, the physician had been right.

His internal fire really was too strong.

=^_^=

Author has something to say: Ye Jiao — a woman who believes her husband gets more amazing by the day.
Qi Yun — a man who believes he’s getting more shameless by the day.