Chapter 6: Second Wear

Wei Tingchun hugged the heavy cloak tightly as she braved the wind and snow to reach Chan Wu Courtyard, only to immediately regret her decision.

For so many years, her work principle had been to never form any connections beyond the plot with people in the Small World—whether in action or emotion.

She had always adhered to this rule. Yet, faced with this “little kitten,” Wei Tingchun once again disrupted the balance she had maintained for years. The moment of compassion she had shown five years ago seemed like the beginning of a lie—one she now had to cover with countless more lies.

Her mind was in chaos, stuffed with tangled cotton fluff, unable to sort out a single coherent thought.

But in the end, she still stepped into Chan Wu Courtyard, moving closer to Xue Ying step by step.

When she finally stood at the entrance of the courtyard’s main hall and saw the pale outline lying on the ground, her heart clenched painfully.

The roof of the hall had been eroded by wind and rain over the years, leaving almost nothing intact. Just as she had imagined, Xue Ying lay quietly on the ground, his entire body covered in a layer of snow from head to toe.

The snow on his hair was no different from the snow on the ground beside him—his body temperature must have been frighteningly low for it to be so.

Gripping the cloak in her hands, Wei Tingchun didn’t rush forward immediately. Instead, she carefully planned her next move in her mind.

She could order Cuiyun and the others to help her follow the plot. After all, she was a matron—the only leader among the Convict Slaves in the Cold Palace. Why should she personally dirty her hands with abuse?

But if everything truly went according to the plot, by the time she left, Xue Ying would be bedridden for half a year. Such a young boy—if he were left with irreversible health issues, wouldn’t his entire life be ruined?

Wei Tingchun quickly devised a remedy in her heart.

She could have Cuiyun and the others follow the plot during the day, then sneak over at night to find a way to help—at least enough to prevent him from falling too gravely ill.

Even the glaring red OOC warning in the System Space couldn’t stop Wei Tingchun’s steps.

She walked in, crouched beside Xue Ying, and after a moment’s thought, flipped over the inner lining of her robe and tore off a three-foot-wide strip of cloth.

Then, she blindfolded Xue Ying.

Xue Ying was unconscious—Wei Tingchun doubted it even mattered whether his eyes were covered. The boy was nearly frozen senseless.

But she blindfolded him anyway.

After that, she began brushing the snow off his body and busied herself around the room until a thin layer of sweat formed on her skin. Using the collapsed wooden beams from the ruined hall, she gathered a pile of firewood in the open space beside Xue Ying.

The System Space allowed her to exchange a few points for a windproof lighter, and with little effort, she managed to light the fire.

Everyone avoided the Cold Palace like the plague. As long as the entire palace wasn’t burning, this tiny fire would go unnoticed. And so, no one discovered that on this snowy night, a faint flicker of flame quietly illuminated a small corner of the Cold Palace, hidden within the silent snowfall.

Wei Tingchun warmed the cloak by the fire and spread it out beside the flames, then tried to drag Xue Ying over.

However, despite his slender and frail appearance, Xue Ying was tall—not someone an ordinary woman could easily move.

Unable to pull him, Wei Tingchun stood there with her hands on her hips for a moment before turning back to the System Space to exchange for something else.

This time, it was a Strength Pill.

One hundred points per bottle—it was a luxury Wei Tingchun would never indulge in.

The system encompassed all realms, offering everything imaginable. With enough points, the top rows of the System Space’s item inventory dazzled with rare Magical Artifacts, Dragon Eggs of the Dragon Clan, Landmine Hand Grenades, Resurrection Nutrient Solutions, and even Depth Charges.

But the best-selling items were still daily necessities.

The Strength Pill was among the more popular ones.

Moreover, every transmigrator’s use of these “non-conforming” items was strictly quota-limited.

You could only exchange for them once every few months, and they couldn’t be used on others or to evade plotlines, ensuring transmigrators wouldn’t disrupt the world’s storyline with them.

With so many rules, Wei Tingchun had never used such things. The effects lasted only twenty-four hours, granting “strength to move mountains” during that time.

Though that was an exaggeration—it merely multiplied one’s strength several times over.

You couldn’t actually move mountains, but someone like Lin Daiyu could probably uproot a willow tree with ease.

Wei Tingchun only used it to carry the “child.”

After successfully settling Xue Ying onto the warm, toasty cloak, she stoked the fire to ensure he’d stay warm without getting burned.

By the time she finished, she was drenched in sweat.

A glance at the system clock showed it was past four in the morning. Fortunately, winter days dawned late—otherwise, she’d have had to extinguish the fire she’d just lit.

Wei Tingchun folded the cloak in half, using one side as a mat for Xue Ying and the other as a blanket. She sat on the uncovered edge, close to him.

Stretching her plump hands toward the fire, she stared blankly into the flames, drowsy from the warmth.

But she couldn’t sleep. Her meticulous mind raced with plans—she had to put out the fire before daybreak and cover the traces with snow.

Rubbing her hands, she turned to look at Xue Ying.

He lay on his side, face turned toward the fire, a white cloth covering his eyes. His well-shaped lips were slightly parted, now tinged with color from the warmth.

Wei Tingchun brushed a stray lock from his cheek, marveling inwardly, “This kid’s so good-looking. Even with half his face covered, you can tell he’s a beauty.”

Such a pretty kitten—what a shame it’d be if he were left with lasting ailments.

She quickly averted her gaze, moving away from the warmest spot to crouch on the other side of the fire.

Pulling up the system interface, she studied the world’s plot carefully, searching for loopholes.

Yes, she’d already given up on earning a high rating in this world.

She hadn’t gained a single point yet—in fact, she’d spent over a hundred.

The points she’d saved over a decade seemed substantial, but aside from basic needs like sleep and food, Wei Tingchun never splurged on extras.

The System Space even offered a soul face-customization feature. Nearly ninety percent of transmigrators used it—a low-cost employee perk.

But Wei Tingchun resisted the temptation. Though not stunningly beautiful, she liked her own face and had no intention of changing it. Of course, the main reason was her reluctance to part with points.

Having worked in the system for so many years, this was the first time Wei Tingchun had ever exchanged for something in the System Space. The main system, probably detecting that she had finally made a purchase, even gave her a new shopper’s gift pack.  

One point could exchange for items.  

After reading half of the plot, Wei Tingchun clicked on the prompt and began browsing the available goods.  

With just one point, the system certainly wouldn’t give her a dinosaur egg, but there were some daily necessities.  

Things like sanitary pads—without them in ancient times, it would be a disaster.  

There were also socks, underwear, toothbrushes, toothpaste, shampoo…  

Wei Tingchun already had most of these. She scrolled down slowly and finally stopped at the Uterus Warming Patch section.  

The warm, flickering firelight reflected on the icy-blue floating system panel as she glanced at the child curled up in the heavy cloak, his cheeks flushed from the warmth.  

Hmm. Alright then.  

Wei Tingchun used one point to exchange for a large bag of Uterus Warming Patches.  

Fifteen in total.  

After storing the items in her system backpack, she yawned and continued reading the plot. There wasn’t much to see, really—she could only access a portion of it. She couldn’t even guess from this fragment what role Xue Ying played in this world.  

Suffering so miserably yet looking so beautiful—he couldn’t just be a cannon fodder character.  

Wei Tingchun spent most of the night going over that segment of the plot repeatedly. By six o’clock, dawn was approaching.  

She extinguished the fire and tossed the remaining burnt firewood into the back hall.  

Then, using her clothes to scoop up snow, she covered the traces of the fire inside the hall.  

She had to leave before daybreak. Wei Tingchun crouched in front of Xue Ying again, her heart aching.  

She had to take the cloak back. For the entire day, he would have to lie on the freezing cold ground. Today’s plot involved the Ninth Prince coming to torment him.  

Looking at him curled up so obediently, his little face flushed, she couldn’t bear to leave him on the ground.  

Rule-breaking was either zero or infinite. She didn’t know how many transmigrators, unable to part with people or things in the Small Worlds, had hidden them in the System Space and taken them away, causing the Small Worlds to collapse—only to be mentally exiled by the main system.  

Over the years, Wei Tingchun had witnessed countless tragedies like this. She understood, but she didn’t approve.  

Everyone had their own life path. Taking someone away from their world and confining them in the System Space, unable to see others—wasn’t that just imprisonment?  

But now, Wei Tingchun understood a little. If Xue Ying were really a kitten, she would risk electrocution to tuck him into her pocket and take him away.  

Unfortunately, he was a living person, with his own life and world.  

And she—she was destined to be just a passerby.  

With that thought, Wei Tingchun reached out to take the cloak. But as she tugged at it, she felt how warm it was inside. If she just left him on the cold ground like this, the sudden temperature change would surely make him sick.  

So she first opened the cloak to let the heat dissipate completely.  

While waiting, she checked Xue Ying’s wrists and ankles.  

The ropes were tight, cutting into his skin. Wei Tingchun touched them—his body was warm, but his fingers and ankles were icy.  

That meant the ropes were too tight, cutting off circulation.  

After hesitating for just a second, she loosened them and then retied them, making sure his wrists and ankles had proper blood flow.  

Once he had cooled down enough, Wei Tingchun reached out to pick Xue Ying up, preparing to place him on the empty ground nearby.

But as soon as her hand reached under his neck, she remembered the Uterus Warming Patch she had exchanged yesterday.

Those things came in thin sheets that adhered to clothing and generated heat discreetly. Yesterday, instead of stocking up on daily necessities, Wei Tingchun had exchanged for those patches specifically for Xue Ying to use during the day.

To protect his chest, waist, and other vital areas from freezing.

Wei Tingchun paused, loosened her hold on Xue Ying, tightened the white cloth covering his eyes, then shook him lightly to ensure he was still unconscious before retrieving a Uterus Warming Patch from her storage space and tearing open the packaging.

She figured since Xue Ying was blindfolded and bound hand and foot, the thin patch could simply be stuck to his clothes. She would remove it at night, and even if he felt the warmth, he’d likely dismiss it as a hallucination from the cold.

Wei Tingchun took one patch, pulled open Xue Ying’s collar, and pressed it firmly into place.

She tore open another, lifted the hem of his robe, and stuck it on.

…

With three patches left, Wei Tingchun didn’t hesitate—she reached to undo Xue Ying’s belt.

These last three were meant for his knees and… that area.

Her movements were brisk, as if she didn’t see Xue Ying as a man at all. In her mind, he was still the child from ten years ago, just a little taller now.

She worked diligently, and Xue Ying remained unresponsive the entire time, leading her to believe he was still unconscious.

But just as she undid his belt, Xue Ying suddenly reacted—he lifted his bound hands and pressed them over Wei Tingchun’s grip on his belt.

Wei Tingchun froze, eyebrows raising.

Awake?

She was relieved. If he was awake, it meant he hadn’t frozen to death!

But dawn was approaching, and she needed to finish applying the patches and leave quickly.

Since she hadn’t planned to speak to him anyway, she continued her task.

Unbeknownst to her, Xue Ying had completely misunderstood. In truth, he had been awake since the moment something was tied over his eyes the night before.

He didn’t know who this person was, what their intentions were, or what kind of suffering and torment awaited him.

He no longer cared.

Xue Ying had a low sensitivity to pain—and to cold.

He wasn’t afraid of either.

He didn’t even hold much hope for rescue. Dying silently here wouldn’t have bothered him.

But then this person undid his belt.

Xue Ying instantly recalled the year he turned thirteen, when every prince of age who hadn’t yet bedded a palace maid would be assigned a servant to “educate” them.

It was palace protocol.

But Xue Ying, abused by his birth mother since childhood, had been mistreated by every maid in his courtyard. He feared women—their shrill voices, their long-nailed fingers—so much that proximity alone made him stiffen, even retch.

Yet palace rules couldn’t be defied. He couldn’t escape it. The palace sent him a maid for his “education,” though the other princes, who despised him, had tampered with the arrangement—instead of a young maiden, they sent an elderly matron.

That incident ended with Xue Ying slamming his head against a pillar, gravely injuring himself. After all, most of them didn’t truly care about his “education”—they just wanted to see him suffer, to see him wish for death.

Dark memories surged forth, and the sensation of his belt being undone made Xue Ying thrash like a fish out of water.  

His breathing grew rapid, his face visibly paling until even his lips lost all traces of color.  

His reaction was too intense. With his hands and feet bound, he writhed and rolled on the ground, desperate to escape Wei Tingchun’s grasp.  

Wei Tingchun was also startled. She hadn’t expected Xue Ying to react this way and didn’t even realize why he was behaving like this.  

And because she had taken the Strength Pill, by the time she realized, Xue Ying’s belt had already been torn apart by her.  

With a *rip*, it wasn’t just the belt that was torn—it was the last thread of sanity in Xue Ying’s mind.  

Suddenly, he began slamming his head against the ground like a madman. Since Wei Tingchun was pinning him down and preventing him from turning over, he used the back of his head to strike the floor with brutal force.  

He didn’t know what else to do. After all, these people only wanted to see him bleed. If he bled, it would be over.  

If he bled, it would be over!  

*Thud! Thud! Thud!* Xue Ying struck the ground with desperate, heavy blows.  

Wei Tingchun quickly cupped his head in her hands, but his momentum dragged her down with him.  

The sound of impact turned muffled, cushioned by her hands.  

Wei Tingchun grimaced in pain, her knuckles split and bleeding, but she didn’t dare let go.