Just as his hand was about to touch Jiang Rao’s head, his arm suddenly gave way—his back had been struck by something sharp and heavy.

A sharp pain shot through his right shoulder blade, as if a dozen oversized venomous wasps had stung him all at once.

Damn it.

Yang Xiuzhu frowned, rubbing his aching shoulder, which was now so weak it could barely hold any strength. A chill crept up his spine.

He turned around.

A dozen steps away, a long wall stretched out, its base casting a deep blue shadow under the midday sun.

A pale young man sat in a wheelchair, positioned right in that shadow. A faint trace of crimson lingered at the corner of his eyes.

The moment their gazes met, the young man arched a brow, his strikingly handsome face carrying an unmistakable air of insolence.

His expression was faintly mocking, filled with open provocation.

Yang Xiuzhu had no doubt who had thrown that stone.

In an instant, fury surged in his chest like hot oil splashing onto fire—

The warmth in his expression vanished. Face darkened, hands clasped behind his back, he strode forward without hesitation.

If he didn’t vent this anger, people would surely laugh at him—getting bullied by a cripple? What a joke.

Yet the young man watching him approach showed not a trace of fear.

It wasn’t the ignorance of the fearless, but the kind of reckless defiance that came from knowing exactly what was coming—and not caring in the slightest.

Just a cripple. What right did he have to be unafraid?

And yet, the boy suddenly tilted his head ever so slightly.

His fox-like eyes narrowed, lips curving into a slow, taunting smile.

Yang Xiuzhu hadn’t even figured out what that sharp-edged, almost predatory smile meant—

When—

A deafening crash exploded beside his ear.

…

For the first time in his life, Yang Xiuzhu witnessed someone in a wheelchair manage to trip on flat ground.

He stood there, utterly dumbfounded.

But for Jiang Rao, whose view had been blocked by Yang Xiuzhu the entire time, all she saw was Rong Ting falling to the ground.

She hadn’t wanted to pay any attention to Yang Xiuzhu, keeping her head lowered the whole time.

Until she heard that loud crash.

Startled, she looked up—

And saw Rong Ting, wheelchair and all, sprawled on the ground in an utterly miserable, heart-wrenching state.

Just as she had once imagined…

Ever since realizing his servants were unreliable, she had constantly worried about who would take care of him.

But in her dreams, he had always despised others getting too close, his temper stubborn and unyielding. Though his legs were weak, he insisted on doing everything himself, refusing any help. On the rare occasions he ordered her around, it was only to torment her.

Once, in a dream, she had accidentally witnessed him nearly falling while using a cane. His fury had been immediate and terrifying—his expression dark and menacing, as if even the King of Hell himself would recoil.

Knowing how much he loathed and resisted anyone tending to him, she hadn’t brought up the idea of assigning him personal attendants again after he refused the suggestion on the day Wang Zhou was taken away.

Still, she couldn’t help but silently worry—what if he fell and got hurt?

The worries that had once only flickered through her mind suddenly became reality. In a flash, she darted forward, reaching Rong Ting before Yang Xiuzhu could.

Her eyes shimmered with concern as she knelt beside him. “What happened to you?”

The reckless, insolent smile Rong Ting had worn while facing Yang Xiuzhu vanished the moment Jiang Rao’s gaze landed on him.

He lowered his eyes, saying nothing.

But Jiang Rao, recalling how Yang Xiuzhu had been striding toward her just moments ago, felt her heart skip a beat. Shocked, she turned to him. “Did you push him?”

For a split second, her small frame radiated the fierce protectiveness of a mother hen guarding her chick.

Yang Xiuzhu immediately denied it. “It wasn’t me!”

He glanced at Rong Ting, expecting him to clarify, but the damn guy stayed silent!

Was he really going to just let Jiang Rao misunderstand like this?

Yang Xiuzhu jabbed a finger at Rong Ting’s wheelchair. “His wheelchair broke on its own!”

Jiang Rao still looked unconvinced.

One person was frantically explaining, while the other stubbornly refused to believe.

Rong Ting simply watched.

Only when Yang Xiuzhu was on the verge of stomping his feet in frustration—after confirming that Jiang Rao clearly didn’t trust him much—did Rong Ting finally speak, his tone light and indifferent.

“The wheelchair broke.”

Behind him, the left armrest of the wheelchair had a visible crack, with half of it already collapsed.

Yang Xiuzhu was livid. Couldn’t he have said that earlier? It was obvious he had deliberately let Jiang Rao misunderstand!

“See? It really wasn’t me,” Yang Xiuzhu huffed, his voice now carrying undeniable confidence.

“…Sorry.”

Yang Xiuzhu’s heart suddenly lifted—was this an opening? Maybe he could take this chance to talk to her a little longer—

But Rong Ting spoke again.

“My legs hurt.”

His head was lowered, his voice barely above a whisper.

His voice had always been low and husky, but now, slow and soft, it carried a fragile, weary quality—so faint it seemed to disappear into the air.

That single, quiet sentence immediately pulled Jiang Rao’s attention away.

Just three words, yet they made her feel as if he had suffered some great injustice. She completely forgot about Yang Xiuzhu, her entire focus shifting to Rong Ting.

She turned hurriedly, calling to a maid. “Go fetch a physician—quickly!”

She reached out to help him up but hesitated, afraid he might have hurt himself elsewhere. “Did you hit anything else? Does anywhere else hurt?”

Rong Ting sat against the wall, his useless legs sprawled limply on the ground. Like a little clay figure, his face was smudged with dust, his cheeks dull and gray.

He kept his head down, staring at his legs resting in the shadow of the wall, silent for a long moment.

Having never experienced normal human interactions since birth, he didn’t know how to soften his sharp edges, didn’t know how to show kindness.

Even when he wanted someone to like him, he had no idea what he should do—or what kind of expression he should wear.

But now, in her eyes, he saw nothing but deep worry and pity.

Just like all those times before when she had looked at him the same way.

The way he looked now probably made her think he was pitiful.

He wanted her to pity him.

So, he kept his expression just as it was.

“No, that’s all,” he said, his voice soft and obedient. “Just my legs hurt.”

Yang Xiuzhu’s temple twitched twice.

If that was all, then why did he have to repeat that his legs hurt?

He had read countless books, all teaching him that to earn respect, one should be gentle, humble—someone who made others feel as if they were basking in a spring breeze. He had never encountered anyone like Rong Ting before.

And in that moment, Yang Xiuzhu suddenly realized who Rong Ting was.

—The same crippled servant from the Spring Lantern Festival. The one Jiang Rao had spoken up for, the one who had followed behind her all night. And now, he appeared to be in some pitiful, weak position—

Pitiful and weak, my ass!

Yang Xiuzhu had seen it with his own eyes—Rong Ting had broken his own wheelchair and thrown himself onto the ground. This wasn’t some accident.

A misery of his own making could only be called manipulation.

Frustrated, he turned to Jiang Rao. “He’s just pretending to be pitiful! Don’t fall for it!”

That night at the lantern festival, the cripple had never once removed his mask, which was why Yang Xiuzhu hadn’t recognized him immediately.

But now, looking at the wheelchair—same design, just one intact and the other broken—it all clicked.

Anger flickered in his eyes. But when Jiang Rao turned to him, there was irritation in her gaze as well.

“If Young Master Yang has nothing else to do, perhaps he should return home.”

A blatant dismissal.

Yang Xiuzhu frowned, momentarily speechless at her disregard. He hadn’t expected her to brush him off so easily.

He stared hard at the boy sprawled on the ground, searching for any sign of deception.

But the fallen youth had a pale complexion, a tall yet thin frame, and a frail, sickly appearance. Coupled with his strikingly beautiful face, he was the perfect picture of someone to be pitied.

Yet, how could a truly sick person have the strength to break their own wheelchair?

Even a perfectly healthy person wouldn’t do something like that.

This guy was a lunatic. A crippled lunatic.

“I saw him break the wheelchair and throw himself to the ground with my own eyes,” Yang Xiuzhu insisted, trying to paint the scene exactly as it had happened. He wanted Jiang Rao to see the truth, to understand.

But the more he explained, the more she looked at him like he was the crazy one.

As if he were lying.

Yang Xiuzhu faltered, his voice growing slightly unsteady. “You have to believe me.”

But Jiang Rao clearly didn’t. She wasn’t even listening. Her attention was fixed elsewhere, scanning the surroundings, anxiously searching for the maid who had gone to fetch a physician.

Whatever Yang Xiuzhu was saying barely registered. His words reached her ears as nothing more than meaningless noise.

Bzzz… bzzz… bzzz…

Bzzz… bzzz… bzzz…

Even flies buzzed less than he did.

So annoying.

Someone was hurt—wasn’t helping the priority here?

Rong Ting had been silently observing Jiang Rao this whole time.

Seeing her anxiously stretching her neck, still waiting for the maid to return, his gaze darkened slightly. Then, he spoke.

“There’s no need to wait for the physician.”

He said, “Just find a place to sit and press on it for a bit—it’ll be fine.”

Jiang Rao glanced at him, her brows knitting tighter.

He looked even more pitiful now.

Truly, so pitiful.

From how naturally he said it, his legs must have hurt like this more than once. More times than she could imagine.

But his way of easing the pain was simply pressing on it himself.

It was truly pitiful.

Her heart ached for him. She knelt beside him, her voice soft and gentle as she asked, “Where do you want to sit? Let me help you over.”

The shadow cast by the girl covered his lowered face. “Inside.”

He wanted to go inside?

Jiang Rao nodded. “Then let’s go to my room.”

Rong Ting, having succeeded in his quiet request, showed a slight shift in expression, but it quickly returned to its usual calm.

Yang Xiuzhu watched, frustration boiling inside him as his words continued to be ignored. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to act on it.

Looking at Rong Ting more carefully now, he began to realize something—this boy, who had once sneered at him with mocking contempt, was a completely different person from the sickly, obedient figure before him. They didn’t even look like the same person.

Could it be… he had misjudged him after all?

He ignored the faint ache and slight bruising on his shoulder blade, taking a step closer to Jiang Rao, and said gently, “Let me help him.”

Jiang Rao looked up at him.

Indeed, ignorance breeds fearlessness.

She quite liked and was accustomed to the boy’s current obedient demeanor, but she hadn’t forgotten how his personality could deteriorate if provoked as he grew older.

So, although she felt much more at ease now, she still treated him with caution.

“Young Master Yang, there’s no need for you to intervene,” Jiang Rao gestured to his left, “Your sister is already waiting. You should hurry and go home with her.”

She was essentially pointing him toward a path of no return.

However, Yang Xiuzhu heard her words as a strong rejection of him. Originally, he had only intended to say a few words before leaving, but now that so much had been said, he couldn’t accept that his standing in her heart hadn’t changed at all.

“Wait,” he called out to Jiang Rao, who had turned her back to him. As she turned around, he took a step forward and reached out his hand.

Earlier, when she had been running, the dried leaves on her head had already fallen off.

But he had another trick up his sleeve.

“There’s a leaf on your hair.”

He believed this would be a thoughtful gesture, one that would also highlight his tall and imposing stature. However, as soon as his hand reached halfway, she took a step back to avoid him.

At the same time, his wrist was struck sharply by a small stone, sending a jolt of pain through him.

There was no fourth person present. Gritting his teeth in pain, he glared at Rong Ting, his fingers twitching uncontrollably from the sharp ache in his tendons. The leaf he had been holding fluttered down to the ground…

Jiang Rao saw it all.

^_^