Chapter 17

“You—she’s with you?” Qian Wenling finally reacted after a long pause. “How could Qingluo be with you?”

For a moment, countless thoughts raced through her mind, none of which she dared believe. Hadn’t he said there was no romantic involvement between him and Su Qingluo? And now he was keeping her—what was that supposed to mean?

Lu Hengzhi’s voice was so calm it sounded like he was discussing something entirely ordinary. “This is my decision. I ask Mother not to interfere—just pretend you don’t know.”

He was used to being in control of everything. But Su Qingluo was the old madam’s beloved granddaughter. If something happened to her, Qian Wenling wouldn’t be able to answer for it. Her expression grew troubled. “But what about the old madam…”

“Just instruct the servants properly,” Lu Hengzhi interrupted. “I’ll speak to Grandmother myself.”

At that, Qian Wenling understood she had no say in the matter. So be it—at least someone would report to the old madam. She let out a reluctant breath, but before she could say anything more, Lu Hengzhi had already turned and walked out.

That night, Su Qingluo didn’t sleep soundly. The wind and rain in the mountains battered the bamboo hut, making the doors and windows rattle. Her mind kept replaying the moment she’d leaned in to kiss Lu Hengzhi—she was both ashamed and embarrassed, unsure how he now viewed her. Her thoughts were a tangled mess all night. Only when dawn broke and the rain finally stopped did she begin to settle.

Zi Yuan, sleeping on the outer side of the bed, was still fast asleep—likely exhausted from searching for her the day before.

Su Qingluo didn’t wake her. She quietly got up, intending to go to the kitchen and boil some water. Opening the door, she saw a tall figure standing silently in front of the bamboo hut. She recognized him instantly—it was Lu Hengzhi.

He turned at the sound of the door opening. His eyes held a trace of weariness, as if he hadn’t slept all night. “You’re awake?”

Su Qingluo nodded gently.

He wore a sky-blue robe with a white cloak draped over it. Behind him, the misty bamboo forest gave him an air of elegance and mystery, like a celestial figure from a painting.

Su Qingluo’s heart stirred slightly.

Lu Hengzhi looked her up and down. His tone was calm but carried a hint of concern. “Are your injuries better?”

Su Qingluo steadied her breath. “Thank you, Lord. I’m much better now. And—” She paused slightly, unsure how to begin.

Lu Hengzhi raised an eyebrow and looked at her but didn’t press.

Raindrops continued to fall from the eaves in a slow, steady rhythm. In the crisp morning air, sharp and hurried birdsong rang out.

Su Qingluo steeled herself and finally spoke the apology she’d rehearsed countless times the night before: “I was wrong yesterday. I hope you’ll forgive me.” After speaking, she lowered her head, bracing herself for judgment.

Lu Hengzhi couldn’t see her expression clearly, but from his angle, her ears were flushed red—her face was likely as crimson as rouge. He had assumed she wanted help finding the culprit. But after all that hesitation, she had simply wanted to apologize.

Thinking of that soft, fleeting kiss from the night before, a ripple stirred in his heart. But his face remained impassive. He asked calmly, “What did you do wrong?”

Su Qingluo froze—wasn’t her apology clear enough? Did he really want her to spell it out? How could she bear to?

Perhaps her stunned expression was too obvious, because Lu Hengzhi asked again, his tone even: “Is this matter very important to you?”

He was referring to the kiss. In this dynasty, a woman’s reputation was paramount—especially in noble families.

There had even been a case at a banquet where a young lady fell into the water, and a gentleman who didn’t know her jumped in to save her. In the end, he had to break off his engagement and marry the girl he rescued. So Lu Hengzhi’s question implied: was she trying to hold him accountable? She wouldn’t dare, especially since he had clearly rejected her last night—why would she pursue something so humiliating and fruitless?

Su Qingluo quickly replied, “No. I just… feared I offended you yesterday.”

The last words were spoken with her eyes shut tight. But then, a cold voice sounded in front of her: “Offended?”

She hadn’t noticed when he’d come closer—he hadn’t made a sound. The scent of his deep, aquatic fragrance enveloped her, and instinctively, she stepped back. Her back hit the cold, hard bamboo door, pressing against her wound.

Su Qingluo couldn’t help but let out a soft hiss of pain.

Lu Hengzhi reached out and steadied her by the shoulders, gently pulling her forward.

“Be careful.” His palm was warm, and the heat spread through her shoulder.

She looked up involuntarily. He respectfully stepped back half a pace, though his tall figure still loomed over her.

The mountain morning was bitterly cold. Su Qingluo wore thin clothing and had been standing outside for a while—she couldn’t help but sneeze. And it had to be in front of Lu Hengzhi…

But sneezing wasn’t something she could control. Forget it, she thought. He’s already seen me at my most embarrassing—what’s one more thing?

Then, warmth settled on her shoulders.

Lu Hengzhi had taken off his cloak and draped it over her. She looked down—it was the same white cloak as before, with a collar lined in soft white fox fur, warm and smooth. His fingers gently grasped the ties, looping them and fastening the cloak for her himself. He said slowly, “It wasn’t really an offense. If anything, you were the one at a disadvantage.”

Su Qingluo’s cheeks burned.

Lu Hengzhi continued, “Besides, it was the effect of the drug. Why would I blame you?”

The cloak was now fully tied around her neck.

“Don’t overthink it. Taking care of yourself is what matters most.” After securing the cloak, he stepped back two paces, looked at her for a moment, and asked, “What would you like for breakfast?”

Su Qingluo’s heart thudded wildly. “A-anything is fine. Whatever the temple sends is fine.”

Lu Hengzhi nodded and turned toward the small room on the west side.

The bamboo hut faced south, with three rooms lined up side by side. Su Qingluo stayed in the middle, Lu Hengzhi had slept in the eastern room last night, and the small room in the western corner was likely the kitchen. So he was going to boil water?

Su Qingluo pulled the cloak tighter around herself. Before apologizing, she had been nervous—after all, Lu Hengzhi was famously aloof toward women. It was said that once, a maid tried to seduce him while he was drunk and was immediately stripped, beaten with forty strokes, and thrown out of the residence.

Thankfully, he hadn’t blamed her at all. Not only that—he even seemed to care. Last time, he had given her the cloak but hadn’t helped her tie it. This time, he had done it himself. She recalled the moment his fingers tugged the ties and the slight pressure at her neck. Su Qingluo shivered.

But he had said there was no romantic involvement between them. Perhaps it was because they were distantly related by name, or because he had escorted her from Jinling to the capital and shared some hardship along the way, so he looked after her a little more. It could only be for those reasons.

Su Qingluo sighed and returned to her room.

Zi Yuan was still asleep.

Su Qingluo sensed something was wrong. She walked to the bedside and touched her forehead—it was burning hot. She must have caught a chill from searching in the rain yesterday and not changing out of her wet clothes in time.

Su Qingluo quickly covered her with another blanket, then got up and headed to the kitchen to boil water. When she knocked and entered, Lu Hengzhi was crouched by the stove, holding a firestarter. The flickering flame lit up his sharply sculpted face, casting shifting shadows across his features.