Chapter 45: You Can Look Wherever You Want

Xiao Ming noticed a small red-lacquered tray resting on the bedside table, with a white teacup placed upon it. "Isn't there tea right there?"

Ling Zhao turned his head to look, and indeed, there was a cup of tea.

"Look at me—can you tell me if my hands can move?"

Xiao Ming opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but the words stuck in her throat. Ling Zhao had been injured this severely entirely on her account. Moreover, Imperial Physician Zhang had stated that although the bleeding had been stopped, the primary concern was the onset of a high fever tonight. Since he was practically on the verge of death from weakness, she could hardly bring herself to leave him unattended.

She stood up and walked to the edge of the bed. "Then let me help you sit up."

Though she said this, after a long moment she still hadn't extended her hand. With his upper body bare, her hand hovered awkwardly in the air for ages, completely unsure of where she ought to place it.

"You'd better just sit up yourself."

"I'm about to die, how am I supposed to sit up by myself?"

Xiao Ming frowned. The strength in his voice was so robust that he looked nothing like the fragile patient the imperial physician had described.

"Lord Ling," she murmured, clutching the cloth handkerchief in her hands like a child who had done something wrong.

"Hmm?" His tone was gentle.

"Actually... I think... you don't seem to be in such a serious condition after all. Why don't you try to see if you can sit up on your own..." She offered a quiet protest, though her tone was laced with guilt.

The atmosphere suddenly stiffened for a fraction of a second.

Breaking the silence, Ling Zhao cast a cold glance at her. "I risked my very life to save you. Are you now questioning your savior?"

Xiao Ming choked on her words and remained frozen in place.

Ever since today's unexpected ordeal, she seemed to have suddenly fallen a notch below him, forever unable to straighten her back. Now that he was her savior, she owed him an even greater debt. How on earth was she supposed to repay this kindness? Surely she couldn't burn extra paper money for him every year when ancestor worship came around.

"Lord Ling," she said, her voice turning soft.

"What is it now?"

Looking at his gruesome back, Xiao Ming bit her lip before raising her gaze to lock onto his with a pious expression. "Thank you."

Caught entirely off guard, Ling Zhao found himself plunging into her clear eyes. He paused, and his heartbeat skipped a beat.

Looking so tender and vulnerable, practically like a ball of soft dough, she was truly too easy to bully.

He wanted to bully her relentlessly.

Yet a sudden thought crossed his mind: could it be that she put on this exact same submissive act in front of other men as well?

Otherwise, how could that fellow Han Yi be showing such obsequious diligence toward her?

And what about Li Zongfang? A rigid, pedantic civil official, who had actually stooped to riding horses and plucking flowers, desperate to present them to her?

Barely a few days had passed; how could she be so restless, stirring up so much trouble right inside a Buddhist temple?

Ling Zhao's brows knitted together, and dissatisfaction surfaced on his face once more.

***

Xiao Ming looked in bewilderment at his ever-changing expression, wondering why his emotions fluctuated so wildly.

Was this the clarity before death?

If so, she really ought to accommodate him a bit more.

"I'll help you find a garment to drape over yourself. It's still cold in the mountains, and since your constitution is currently frail, you must be all the more careful." With these words, she walked over to the wardrobe, retrieved a silver-white sleeping robe embroidered with subtle patterns, and gently draped it across his back.

"That tea is probably cold by now. Wait a moment, and I'll warm it up over the stove before you drink it."

Not long after, the door to the monk's quarters was rapped, and Jingsheng entered carrying the medicinal brew.

"Master, please take your medicine." He handed the medicinal broth to Ling Zhao.

Ling Zhao kept his eyes closed, still lying prone on the bed without moving an inch, as if he had fallen asleep.

Jingsheng was about to offer another reminder, but paused, swallowed his words, and turned his gaze toward Xiao Ming, who was standing guard to the side.

"Lady Ming." He handed the bowl of medicine over to her.

Xiao Ming pressed her lips together and ultimately accepted the medicine bowl.

"I must trouble the young lady to deliver this medicine. Imperial Physician Zhang instructed that this decoction can alleviate the pain and prevent an acute high fever, so we must ensure our master drinks it." Having said that, Jingsheng turned as if to withdraw.

"Wait!"

Xiao Ming hurriedly stood up and called out to Jingsheng. Jingsheng immediately halted his steps, turned around, and respectfully asked, "Is there anything else, my lady?"

"Please help your master sit up."

"This... you flatter this humble servant far too much." Jingsheng looked anxiously at Ling Zhao. "This servant..."

This servant doesn't dare touch him!

"I'll feed him the medicine myself." As soon as she finished speaking, Xiao Ming's face abruptly flushed red. Terrified that they might notice, she hurriedly turned back and pretended to check the tea warming on the table.

Seizing the opportunity, Jingsheng cast a sideways glance at Ling Zhao, as if seeking his instruction. Though Ling Zhao kept his eyes closed in meditation and remained silent, he gave a subtle wave of his hand. Comprehending the gesture, Jingsheng swiftly walked over to the bed, helped Ling Zhao sit up, and immediately retreated.

When Xiao Ming turned back around holding the medicine bowl and laid eyes on Ling Zhao, she froze in place. Her already flushed face instantly ripened into the color of a fully matured peach.

The man had casually gathered his hair into a topknot, with a few stray locks framing his temples. He wore only a thin sleeping robe loosely draped over his shoulders, the collar wide open and the sash hanging loosely at his side, clearly revealing his robust chest and taut, slender waist.

Solid muscles stood out in defined ridges, marked by several ferocious scars that radiated masculine strength.

At this moment, he leaned against the pillows, gazing at her with a pale, weakened complexion that added a rare, languid charm to his demeanor.

"Where are you looking?" Ling Zhao curved his lips in a half-smile.

Caught off guard as she met his deep eyes, her gaze flickered before she instantly averted it. With a voice tinged with bashful annoyance, she snapped, "I wasn't looking at anything!"

"If you want to look, then look." He slightly arched a phoenix eye, brimming with amusement as he spoke in a leisurely tone, "You can look anywhere you like. It's not as if I'm unwilling to show you."

Xiao Ming was stunned for a moment before the realization hit her. Her earlobes burned with a scorching heat, and she cried out in exasperated fury, "Ling Zhao!"

***

Was Imperial Physician Zhang some sort of charlatan he had hired from the jianghu? The man was clearly brimming with vitality; where on earth did he look like someone on the verge of death?!

"I didn't say you were looking at anything else, what are you getting so flustered for?"

Xiao Ming's ears burned a fiery crimson, practically on the verge of bleeding. A breath was trapped in her throat, refusing to go up or down, and utterly incapable of offering any retort, she could only march with stiff steps toward the sleeping couch and thrust the medicine bowl before his eyes. "Drink your medicine."

Ling Zhao didn't take it, his expression dripping with mockery.

Suddenly feeling a surge of stifled frustration, Xiao Ming simply withdrew her hand. "If you won't drink it, then don't."

"Did I say I wouldn't drink it?"

"Then you had better—"

Before she could finish her sentence, she caught the sight of Ling Zhao's gaze narrowing into something increasingly chilly. Swallowing hard, she silently closed her mouth, proactively sat down on the edge of the bed, scooped up a spoonful of the medicinal broth, and brought it to his lips.

Even though she lowered her gaze, deliberately avoiding looking at his body, he was right there in front of her, and since she had to feed him the medicine, it was naturally impossible not to look. Her entire body grew intensely stiff and awkward.

In contrast, Ling Zhao's expression was far more casual as he peacefully accepted her ministration.

"It's too hot."

Xiao Ming blew on it to cool it down and offered it to him once more.

"It's a bit too cold."

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to maintain her patience. For the next spoonful, she blew on it only slightly before presenting it to him; this time, the temperature was just right.

He was finally satisfied.

Once the medicine was finished, Xiao Ming casually placed the empty bowl onto the red-lacquered tray resting on the bedside table. "It's getting late, and we have to return to the estate tomorrow. You should rest early—"

"The medicine is too bitter."

Upon hearing this, Xiao Ming's eyes flashed with a fierce intent, as though she wanted to carve out a pit in Ling Zhao with her glare. She sprang up abruptly, nearly grinding her back teeth to pieces.

"Where is, the, sugar?"

She no longer possessed a shred of patience left to spar with him in wordplay. The man was clearly nothing but a colossal fraud!

Ling Zhao choked slightly, his gaze trembling in a manner almost imperceptible. "N—none..."

"That's just right. Good medicine tastes bitter."

She spun around and marched toward the door, only for her wrist to be suddenly seized the next instant, sending her tumbling backward to land heavily back onto the bed.

"Mmph~!"