Chapter 12 – She Fell Ill

“They’ve asked him, and he said he likes her very much!” The Madam was glowing with joy.

Wanru suddenly felt a tightness in her throat. Strange—she drank honey water every day, and her throat was never dry.

“Then choose an auspicious date and settle the marriage quickly. Best if the bride can enter the house within the year—it’s been too long since we’ve had a happy occasion at home.”

The Madam laughed. “Mother is right.”

“But speaking of it—Xian’er still doesn’t even have a bed-companion in his rooms. That ought to be arranged first. Young men are full of vigor, I fear he won’t be able to restrain himself and end up doing something ridiculous.”

A girl chosen by the family was at least trustworthy; those temptresses outside couldn’t be counted on.

In the capital, many young lords idled away their days with cockfights and dog races, gambling and chasing pleasures—some even indulging in perversions. Truly shameful.

“My Xian’er is not like those foppish scions.”

“I know he’s different. But he is still a man, and a man has needs.”

The Madam faltered for a moment, her heart inexplicably tightening. After all, she had once sent him girls before, but he never accepted them…

The Old Madam reminded her: “Choose someone honest and plain, preferably a servant girl born in the household. That way she’ll be obedient in the future.”

Then she paused, casting a glance at Wanru standing silently at the side, and added, “She must also be pretty, lively. Don’t think of sending him any common-looking thing. Xian’er is picky about even his inkstone—do you think he’d accept just any woman?”

The Madam nodded quickly. “Yes, Mother.”

—

Leaving Shou’an Hall, Suyue hurried to keep up with Wanru.

“Miss, why didn’t you just tell the Old Madam? You prepare her meals every day, she clearly likes you. If you asked her to arrange a good marriage, she’d surely agree.”

Wanru shook her head lightly. “The Old Madam likes many people. Who am I, in comparison? It’s already hard enough to survive in the Xie household on her goodwill. If I say anything, Xie Xianyu will hear of it. Do you think he would allow me to decide my own marriage?”

Everyone knew the one the Old Madam loved most was Xie Xianyu. Even if Wanru begged to marry out, one word from him would send her straight back to Songhe Garden.

And right now, the Old Madam was worrying about finding someone to serve him in his rooms.

It was not yet time to tear off the mask with Xie Xianyu—she couldn’t act rashly.

“This matter must remain quiet. Don’t speak of it again,” Wanru warned.

Suyue nodded solemnly. “I understand.”

—

At dusk, Wanru was just about to eat when Suyue came with news.

“Miss, Qing’an is here.”

Wanru frowned. Why again?

What was Xie Xianyu scheming at?

Pressing her lips, she said coldly, “Tell him I’m ill. I can’t come.”

This couldn’t go on—he would keep dragging her in endlessly. She had already found her own path; it was time to put distance between them.

Besides, she was tired of serving him.

Dealing with Xie Xianyu was more exhausting than dealing with the entire Xie household.

“Yes, Miss.”

Suyue went to deliver the message.

Outside, Qing’an was still waiting, expecting Wanru to appear. Instead, it was Suyue.

“Suyue-jie, where’s the young lady?”

“Miss is sick today—she truly cannot rise from bed.”

“Huh? She was fine—how did she suddenly fall ill?”

“It’s early spring, the nights are cold. Likely her quilt was too thin last night. She forced herself to prepare the Old Madam’s meal this morning, but returned with a fever. She can’t leave bed now.”

Qing’an nodded blankly. “Then let her rest well. I’ll report back to the Young Master.”

“Thank you.”

Suyue returned. “Miss, Qing’an is gone.”

Wanru nodded. “Have Dingdong fetch two buckets of cold water. I need a bath.”

Suyue froze. “With cold water? You’ll catch a chill!”

“All the better. If I must feign illness, it must be convincing. Hurry.”

Xie Xianyu was sharper than a fox. To deceive him would not be easy. If she claimed to be sick, she had to truly be sick.

Reluctantly, Suyue obeyed.

Cold water sloshed into the tub, icy to the touch. Suyue winced. “Miss, don’t… it’s still March, the spring chill is severe. Who knows how long this will make you ill.”

Wanru untied her robes, drew a deep breath, and stepped in with eyes shut. The freezing water stabbed like knives; her whole body shuddered.

Suyue’s eyes turned red. “Why must you suffer so?”

Wanru bit down hard, waiting until numbness spread through her limbs.

“His marriage will be settled soon, and now the Madam wants to send him a bed-companion. If I fall ill at this moment and cannot serve him, he’ll naturally lose interest in me.”

Suyue wiped away her tears, helplessly watching.

After a long soak, Wanru finally rose, her skin flushed crimson, her head dizzy.

Suyue hurried to help her into bed. Touching her forehead, she gasped—it was already burning hot.

—

At Songhe Garden.

“Master, the young lady says she has fallen ill with a chill, too weak to rise. She cannot come today,” Qing’an reported.

Seated at a chessboard, Xie Xianyu lifted his gaze. “Ill?”

“Yes. Early spring, the weather shifts between warm and cold. It’s easy to catch a chill.”

“Has a physician been called?”

Qing’an froze—he’d forgotten to ask. Hastily, he added, “The young lady understands medicine herself. For a small cold, she surely knows how to treat it.”

Xie Xianyu’s eyes turned cold. “If she could cure herself, would she still be bedridden?”

“I…” Qing’an faltered, unable to respond.

“Go fetch a doctor.”

“Yes!” Qing’an rushed out.

Xie Xianyu stared at the unfinished chessboard before him. Irritation surged—he tossed the jade piece in his hand aside, losing all desire to continue.

Just then, a maid entered with tea.

“Master, please take some tea.”

He accepted it absently, raised it to his lips, then frowned—it was too hot.

His attendants never made such careless mistakes. Looking up, he saw an unfamiliar little maid standing before him, stealing glances at him.

“Where are you from?” His voice cooled.

The maid didn’t notice, and shyly said, “The Madam said Master’s servants are too few, so she sent me to serve you.”

Her heart pounded—so close to the famed Eldest Young Master! She dared to steal another look at his extraordinary face, then boldly stepped forward. “If Master is weary, this maid can attend your bath…”

She was dressed to dazzle, hair pinned with the latest flowers, clad in violet silk embroidered with emerald patterns. Already a beauty, she now looked even more alluring.

She reached to help him—but he withdrew his hand, set the cup down with a chill, and said, “Cui Zhu.”

A senior maid hurried in. “Yes, Master.”

“Did I not say no one enters here without leave? This is how you manage Songhe Garden?” His voice was low, but the oppressive weight froze the room.

Cui Zhu dropped to her knees. “Master, forgive me. The Madam sent Peony-girl, ordering her to serve you personally.”

His eyes narrowed. “So Songhe Garden has a new master now?”

Cui Zhu paled. “Your servant is guilty! I will never allow this again.”

“If it happens again, you will not remain here.”

His voice was calm, but cold enough to break her into a sweat.

Meanwhile, Peony collapsed to the ground, tugging at his robe with tears. “Did I do something wrong? Please tell me—I’ll never err again.”

Xie Xianyu’s eyes were like ice. “Get out.”

Her face stiffened, tears streaking her cheeks. One look into his frigid gaze and she no longer dared to weep.

She had heard he was kind, gentle as jade. She thought if she cried prettily, he’d relent. Never had she imagined…

Cui Zhu dared not let her linger. She called in two older women to gag and drag her away.

Those who truly served the Young Master knew best—he despised simpering, tearful women. In Songhe Garden, maids were sharper than men, boys more efficient than mules.

Once the girl was gone, peace returned. Xie Xianyu glanced down at his wrinkled robe, frowning with distaste. He stripped it off and changed into a fresh one.

—

At Qiushui Courtyard.

Suyue dismissed the physician, then carried in a bowl of hot medicine.

“The Young Master truly cares—he had Qing’an fetch a doctor. Miss, please drink this.”

Wanru accepted the bowl, gazed at it for a moment, then pressed her lips and poured it into the flowerpot.

Suyue gasped. “Why would you waste it?”

Wanru’s voice was faint. “This illness… must last longer.”