Chapter 6: The Destitute Maid and the Warlord of Turbulent Times

After the brutal beating by the matron, Song Qian felt as though every step required the entirety of her remaining strength. Her spine was hunched like a fully drawn bow, her gait unsteady and staggering. Her clothes were torn to shreds, and her disheveled hair, plastered wetly against her cheeks and neck, mingled with the rain to form winding rivulets. After much effort, she reached the doorway and tremblingly pushed it open.

Lu Tingfeng had been pacing the room anxiously; hearing the movement, he turned and rushed toward her. Seeing her wretched state, he was overcome with heartache. "Song Qian, what has happened to you?" Song Qian shook her head, unable to speak, and simply leaned into him, as if he were the only source of warmth and solace in the cold, oppressive Marshal’s Mansion.

His heart tightened, his eyes instantly brimming with anguish. Without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms, sat slowly on the edge of the bed, and drew her onto his lap.

The moment Song Qian’s body touched his, her tears broke like a dam. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, buried her face in his chest, and wept until her whole body trembled. Her sobs were laden with physical agony, endless grievances, and the long-suppressed torment she had endured within the mansion. Lu Tingfeng held her firmly with his strong arms, one hand stroking her back in a steady rhythm, attempting to soothe her.

As she sobbed, her body shifted, inadvertently brushing against his chest. The black powder she had applied to her face to conceal her beauty, now soaked by tears and rain, began to smear and flake away against his clothing.

Lu Tingfeng did not notice at first, focused solely on comforting her. When her emotions finally began to ebb, he lowered his head, his gaze accidentally falling upon her face.

Beneath the grime, her skin was revealed to be as delicate as mutton-fat jade. Her features, previously obscured, were now clear: exquisite brows, a slender nose, and lips that were slightly swollen yet still ravishing.

Lu Tingfeng was momentarily stunned, a ripple of something unfamiliar stirring in his heart. But he quickly regained his composure, his eyes softening even further with tenderness. He reached out to gently wipe away the remaining traces of powder from her face with his index finger, whispering, "Song Qian, cry no more. I am here."

Seeing the injuries on her body, a dangerous glint flashed in his eyes. He did not ask what had happened, nor did she volunteer. He lifted her chin, his gaze filled with deep affection, his thumb tenderly brushing away the last of her tears. "Song Qian, you have suffered." His voice was low and magnetic, echoing in the quiet room like the most moving of vows.

Song Qian looked up at him, her eyes still clouded with mist, looking utterly fragile. Lu Tingfeng could not resist lowering his head to press a kiss to her forehead, a touch as light as a falling feather.

Song Qian’s face flushed instantly, like a ripened apple, and she shyly buried her head back into his chest.

A faint smile touched Lu Tingfeng’s lips as he tightened his embrace, resting his chin atop her head. "From this day forward, I am your refuge. Those who have harmed you shall not be spared." Song Qian nodded gently in his arms, her hands instinctively clutching his lapels. They held each other in silence, as if time itself had ceased, leaving only the sound of their beating hearts and the overflowing warmth that served as their sanctuary amidst the storm.