Chapter 24: Kiss Her Once More

Qingzhu looked at Ling Zhao with undisguised distrust before turning away in a huff.

He stepped into the bedchamber and pulled the door shut behind him. Pushing aside the bed curtains, he saw the woman lying inside, her attire disheveled and wrapped in a silk quilt, her raven-black hair cascading like a waterfall, scattered messily across the soft pillows.

Ling Zhao’s gaze darkened instantly. He longed to kiss her once more.

Xiao Ming’s eyes were closed, her brow slightly furrowed, and her fan-like eyelashes trembled. A fine sheen of sweat coated her forehead, and her cheeks burned with an unnatural flush.

"What are you dreaming of?" Ling Zhao murmured to himself.

He moved to sit on the edge of the bed but remembered he had just come from the Imperial Prison and the Ministry of Justice, his clothes stained with sticky blood and grime. He turned away, stepped aside to shed his soiled outer robes, and sat down wearing only his undergarments.

He touched her forehead; it was terrifyingly hot.

He leaned over to look at her. "Ming'er, how are you feeling?"

Xiao Ming let out a hazy, incoherent mumble and said nothing more.

Glancing at the bedside, he saw a stack of clean, dry towels. Imitating the way his mother used to care for him when he was ill, he clumsily picked up a towel to wipe her face. She kept her eyes shut, her brows knitting tighter as she muttered, "It hurts..."

He rose and crouched by her bedside, placing his large hand against her feverish cheek. "Where does it hurt?" he asked gently.

In her delirium, her hand groped until it found his, gripping it tightly. As she did, her brows relaxed slightly, her lips parted, though her words were unintelligible.

He wondered if her ankle was any better.

He turned back and tentatively reached out to touch her through the thin quilt. At the slightest contact, she twitched in pain. Ling Zhao quickly looked back at her, only to see a tear bead at the corner of her eye.

He lifted the quilt to examine her legs and discovered that not only was her ankle swollen high, but her knees were also bruised purple—the result, no doubt, of the fall she took under the veranda yesterday.

"It is all my fault. I have caused you such suffering."

He noticed a small tea warmer by the bed. He picked up the cup, cradling it, and peered at it for a moment before taking a sip of the remaining liquid. It tasted sweet. It was not tea, but a decoction of cardamom and honey.

"I want to drink..."

He stood to fetch water, clutching the small cup in one hand while lifting Xiao Ming from the quilt with the other, tucking her against his chest. He took a sip of the decoction, leaned down, and pressed his lips to hers, slowly passing the liquid into her mouth.

She was still sleeping in a stupor and struggled slightly, but upon tasting the sweet cardamom water, she grew compliant, allowing him to feed her. Perhaps truly parched, she even reached out with her tongue to probe his lips, seeking more.

His gaze stalled.

Her sudden, unconscious provocation, combined with her fragile, boneless state, was devastatingly alluring, setting his already restless body ablaze. He pulled her tightly into his arms, kissing her softly, as if handling fragile porcelain.

"Mm..."

She let out a muffled groan, her eyelashes fluttering as if she were about to wake. He pulled away with restraint, kissing her brow lingeringly. She frowned slightly, trying to turn away, and only then did he reluctantly lay her back into the quilt.

Years of martial arts training had gifted him with sharp hearing. He caught the sound of soft, shuffling footsteps approaching from outside the bedchamber—likely Qingzhu returning with the house physician.

He pushed the window open, peered out to ensure the courtyard was empty, then snatched up his robes from the corner and leaped out, racing across the rooftops back to Qingyun Pavilion.

"Doctor Zhang, please wait here for a moment. I shall lower the bed curtains so you may attend to the young lady."

Doctor Zhang, carrying his medical bag, nodded slightly. "Of course, of course."

After three soft knocks, Qingzhu tentatively entered the room. She glanced around calmly, and seeing that Ling Zhao was gone, she let out a long breath before bowing slightly to usher the physician in.

***

Xiao Ming’s high fever was brutal. In her delirious state, she suffered through a series of fragmented, bizarre dreams.

At one moment, she dreamed that Mo Yuan was accusing her of ruining her brother and wanting to kill her for vengeance. The next, Meng Qingxuan was claiming she was unvirtuous and threatening to tie her up and drown her. Then the scene shifted, and she saw Old Madam Ling sitting at the head of the Shou'an Hall, her usual kindness replaced by cold severity. "Ming'er, you have truly disappointed me..."

These nightmares felt like a swamp; she would crawl out of one only to sink into another. She tried desperately to wake, but each time she opened her eyes, she found herself in yet another nightmare, falling into a torrential downpour, her limbs broken and unable to move.

Amidst these intermittent dreams, she also saw Ling Zhao. In the dream, he wore his red wedding robes, holding a nuptial wine cup, smiling as he asked, "Ming'er, do you regret being with me?"

She was about to answer when a splitting headache struck. She heard Chun'er crying and laughing, her voice drifting in and out: "Miss, Miss..."

When she finally regained full consciousness, Xiao Ming realized it was still dark outside.

"Miss, you’re awake? You’ve been unconscious for a day and a night! I thought you were going to die!"

Hearing the movement in the bedchamber, Qingzhu rushed in carrying a medicine pot, her face filled with joy. "Miss, you’ve finally woken up! You scared us to death."

Xiao Ming looked around, then met Chun'er’s tear-filled eyes. She patted her hand weakly. "Am I really that fragile?"

While she spoke, the medicinal dregs were filtered out, and the broth was poured into a small white porcelain jar. Qingzhu brought the medicine and some candied fruits to the bedside. "Miss, please drink this."

Chun'er helped Xiao Ming sit up against the soft pillows. Xiao Ming took the small jar, sniffed it, and wrinkled her nose in disgust. "What is this foul thing? Only a ghost could swallow this..."

"It’s true! When the Eldest Young Master fed it to you today, even he found it bitter..."

"Ling Zhao came?"

"Well, he sent someone to ask after you this afternoon," Qingzhu said with a sheepish smile. "Come, Miss, drink your medicine first."

Chun'er brought a basin of hot water, wiped her down with a long towel, and changed her into a fresh nightgown. "There, Miss, you’ll be able to sleep more comfortably now."

Just as they finished, three knocks sounded at the door: *thump, thump, thump*.

The three of them exchanged glances. It was nearly nightfall; who could it be?

Qingzhu’s expression flickered. She walked over to open the door, and seeing who was outside, she was not surprised.

"Eldest Young Master Ling."

"Is your mistress awake?"

"Qingzhu, who is there?"

Chun'er helped Xiao Ming out of bed to the doorway. When Xiao Ming saw him, she froze. For some reason, both felt a bit awkward; it was difficult to decide whether to invite him in or not.

Just as they hesitated, a kind, gentle voice drifted from around the corner outside the bedchamber: "Ming girl, are you feeling better?"

All four people in the room went stiff. Goosebumps rose on their skin, and they scrambled about in panic like headless flies.

"Grandmother?"

Oh no, why had Old Madam Ling come?