Chapter 72: Master’s Wife

Liu Chuyan observed Madam Xue’s demeanor and realized something must have gone awry with her plan; that “cousin” was likely not who she seemed. But Madam Xue would never admit as much. Without a word of explanation to the younger generation waiting expectantly for her, she leaned on the old nurse’s arm and hurried out.

“What’s going on?” Han Shuwei tugged at Liu Chuyan’s sleeve, blinking in astonishment.

Liu Chuyan made a silent gesture for her to keep quiet and paid her no further attention, though inwardly she was anxious and uneasy. Earlier, while Lin Jinhuan was changing clothes, Liu Chuyan had managed to ask her a few questions and sensed something was amiss. She’d specially sought Lin Jinhuan’s opinion and secretly sent Songling back to the Han residence to find an opportunity to invite General Liu over.

Today, General Liu was serving as a matchmaker for Zhou Fuyun and could not casually excuse himself from the gathering. Even with Lin Jinhuan’s predicament, it could not be made public before any conclusion was reached, not even among the Zhou family. So Liu Chuyan had stressed, again and again, that Songling must find a quiet moment, with few people about, to bring General Liu here. Judging by the current situation, it seemed General Liu was unable to come.

Without the presence of another elder, Lin Jinhuan had already lost her composure; once Madam Xue regained her calm, everything would be dictated by her. Lin Jinhuan, being younger and at a disadvantage, would have no choice but to accept Madam Xue’s “arrangement” in the end.

Yet just moments before, when Lin Jinhuan spoke of Xue Tan, her eyes shone with a brilliance as dazzling as the brightest stars, filled with irrepressible fervor and love. Liu Chuyan had never before seen such bewitching emotion in her eyes, but she understood. After all, when a hero saves a maiden—regardless of whether the scene is romantic or chaotic—it is the best catalyst for affection.

As for Xue Tan, he truly was a fine man. If not for his frail health, he would be the most sought-after gentleman in the world. And Lin Jinhuan, unlike Han Shuwei, probably had no need to worry about her own circumstances or his background; she need only choose someone she liked, someone who would treat her well.

Thus, Liu Chuyan merely hoped that General Liu could be brought to the scene; if not, it would not greatly affect the outcome, for Lin Jinhuan’s heart had already been captured, never to be reclaimed.

But then her thoughts turned to herself. In her past, it had been much the same—her, and Xue Ao. It was a “hero saves maiden” tale; she, too, had foolishly given her heart to “Brother Jun Cheng,” only to discover, in the end, that fate had played a most unamusing joke on her, one she regretted so much she wished she could crawl into a crack and hide away. If only she could announce to the world that the fool she once was no longer existed. Alas, even if life granted her a second chance, there would be no second childhood. Those old memories would remain forever locked away in the depths of her heart, never to be spoken of again.

Lost in thought, Liu Chuyan did not notice Xue Huaijin and Xue Huaiyu whispering to each other nearby, until she heard a soft sniffle at her side: “Cousin…”

“Shuwei?” Liu Chuyan caught Xue Huaiyu’s teasing remark—“From now on, you’ll have to call Jinhuan ‘cousin-sister-in-law’”—which earned her a smack from Xue Huaijin, as if to sew her lips shut. Realizing what was afoot, Liu Chuyan took Han Shuwei by the wrist and led her outside to the covered corridor, dismissing the maids. “Shuwei, you must remember—there can never be anything between you and the Duke of Xingguo. And haven’t you noticed? Madam Xue has already set her sights on Sister Jinhuan. You should let go.”

“But I… I like him so much…” Han Shuwei’s heart was filled with unwillingness, and she sobbed quietly. Xue Tan was the first person she’d ever liked—even if it was only for his looks, shallow as that affection might be, he was the perfect object of her budding infatuation. Now, suddenly realizing that the one she liked might soon marry another, she was naturally both furious and aggrieved.

Liu Chuyan, seeing her so despondent, felt both vexed and pitying. It was, after all, Han Shuwei’s first crush, and one that would never be requited. Gently, Liu Chuyan wiped her tears. “Shuwei, you know about the Duke’s health, don’t you? Think about it—he sits in his wheelchair every day, always needing care. For now, he has his page and servants. But once he has a wife, those duties will no longer belong to the servants—they will be his wife’s responsibility. You can’t even look after yourself; do you think you could take care of him?”

“I…” Han Shuwei had never considered this. All she knew was that he was handsome, his voice was the most melodious she had ever heard.

Seeing her hesitation, Liu Chuyan pressed on, “What you like is only his appearance. But beauty fades with time. When he grows old, his skin wrinkled, black hair turned white, unable to speak or eat—will you still love him then?” The words were harsh, but Liu Chuyan had no choice but to shatter her illusions for her own good.

Han Shuwei was stunned for a moment, thoughtful, then shook her head vigorously.

“That’s enough, then.” Liu Chuyan gave her no time to dwell, lest she recall the good moments and undo all her efforts. Patting her hand, she said, “Shuwei, it’s almost midday, and now there’s been such an incident at the Xue residence. You must be hungry. Go home, have your lunch, take a nap, and listen to your governess. If you slack off all afternoon after shirking duties this morning, beware your second uncle’s wrath. I’ll explain things to Madam Xue for you, so don’t trouble her at this time.”

“Alright.” Han Shuwei, now as docile as a kitten, nodded repeatedly and called her maid to prepare to return home.

Just as Liu Chuyan turned to inform Xue Huaijin that Han Shuwei was leaving, a startled cry came from the entrance, followed by a boy’s pained yelp—a voice somewhat familiar. She hurried toward the sound, only to run straight into Xue Ao, the fallen Prince of Xin, and Han Shuwei…

What a tangled “web of fate” this was.

Liu Chuyan pressed her forehead, thinking not just of herself and Xue Ao, but also of the Prince of Xin and Han Shuwei. Those two had never gotten along; if not for his high status, Han Shuwei would have called him names to his face. Yet today, had the Prince of Xin once again rescued Han Shuwei? Judging by the scene, Han Shuwei must have stumbled and fallen, and the Prince of Xin, trying to save her, had cushioned her fall, thus protecting her pretty face.

Han Shuwei wanted nothing more than to get up and shake off this nuisance, but her ankle had twisted and the pain was so sharp she couldn’t stand.

The Prince of Xin, brushing aside the head pressed to his chest, chuckled, “Hey, if you don’t get up, are you planning to make me marry you?”

“Nonsense!” Han Shuwei, furious and embarrassed, nearly struck him, but the maids, finally recovering from their shock, helped her up first.

“Miss, are you alright?”

“Ow…” Han Shuwei hadn’t told the maids she’d twisted her ankle, nor had they noticed. Inevitably, as they tried to help her, their support failed to hold her weight, and she lurched forward again.

The Prince of Xin, just attempting to rise, was knocked flat once more. This time, he distinctly heard the “crack” of his left arm as she fell on it—it had been dislocated. Cold sweat broke out on his brow, and he looked up in aggrieved desperation at Xue Ao. “Master, save me!”

Xue Ao, knowing precisely what tricks Han Ruogu was plotting, made no move to interfere as Han Shuwei and the Prince of Xin tangled. He simply stood aside to watch the spectacle. Besides, Liu Chuyan was present too. He knew he had made a grave mistake the night before and that she would not forgive him easily. But he intended to seize every opportunity to speak kindly to her, even if he could not win back her heart. So, when the Prince of Xin called him, he merely grunted a vague response.

Liu Chuyan had already noticed Xue Ao’s wolfish, intense gaze, but pretended not to, instead sending Qinghe to help Qingya support Han Shuwei. Yet she couldn’t help wondering—had she misjudged him? Or had “Brother Jun Cheng” grown crooked?

She stole a glance at him from the corner of her eye, studying him seriously for the first time. He was indeed quite different from his childhood self—then, he’d been neither short nor slim, but rather chubby and stout. Now, he was tall and slender, radiating a noble vigor. In her memory, Xue Ao had always preferred black clothing, but today he wore a robe of blue and white, sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing wiry forearms—evidently, he had just been practicing martial arts.

Xue Ao did, indeed, bear seven-tenths resemblance to Jin Ling. On closer inspection, his features had changed greatly since childhood, save for his nose, which remained prominent and proud. Once, he had loved to smile, his lips always curving upward; now, he pressed them together in feigned profundity. And his eyes—towards others, they reflected loyalty and gallantry; towards her, they belonged to a wolf in human skin.

But now, those lips of his were curling into a smile—why was that? He seemed to be laughing.

Liu Chuyan looked up and met his teasing eyes, only then realizing she had been staring at him, utterly unguarded. Xue Ao was surely convinced she was taken with him, grinning slyly like a fox. She huffed inwardly, turned away, and ignored him.

On the ground, the Prince of Xin groaned, nudging Xue Ao’s toe. “Master, my arm is dislocated.”

Xue Ao was busy observing Liu Chuyan’s expressions—more varied and vivid than any stage performer’s—when the Prince of Xin interrupted, earning a silent glare. He kicked him back. “Let Qin Yan set it for you.”

Qin Yan’s skills were nowhere near Xue Ao’s; the Prince of Xin shot him a warning glare to stay away and continued nudging Xue Ao. “Master, stop looking at Mistress and help your disciple—her cousin dislocated my arm and you’re not even going to look?”

“Mistress?” Xue Ao stroked his clean-shaven chin, savoring the word—it pleased him greatly. Crouching down, he ruffled the Prince of Xin’s hair with a laugh. “Good disciple.”

Normally, the Prince of Xin would never allow anyone to touch his head, but today he was in inexplicably high spirits and let Xue Ao do as he pleased.

Taking advantage of the moment, Xue Ao deftly took hold of his arm and, with a gentle push, set it back in place.

The Prince of Xin barely felt a thing—just a little click—and he knew he was fine. Xue Ao’s skill was unmatched; if it had been Qin Yan, the pain would have been excruciating enough to bite his own tongue. Flexing his arm with ease, he sprang to his feet and bowed to Liu Chuyan. “Good day, Mistress.”

“You—” Liu Chuyan, just having helped Han Shuwei and preparing to escort her home and speak to General Liu, had no intention of returning the Prince of Xin’s salute. It was clear he didn’t care, anyway. But to curry favor with Xue Ao, he had called her Mistress. At last, she understood Han Shujing’s embarrassment when Zhou Ruosu called her mother—here was the fifteen-year-old Prince of Xin, no different from the six-year-old Zhou Ruosu, infuriating in his own way, yet she was helpless against him. All she could do was glare fiercely at Xue Ao.

Xue Ao did not stop the Prince of Xin, but only stared at her with a half-smile.

The Prince of Xin, unconcerned, nudged Xue Ao’s elbow. “Master, I see Mistress’s cousin has twisted her ankle and can hardly walk. Why don’t we escort Mistress and her cousin home together?”