Chapter 48: Next Time I Won't Use the Front Door, I'll Climb Through the Window

"I've been here for a while," Ling Zhao said calmly.

"Zhao'er, where are you coming back from?"

Madame Ling suddenly felt a twinge of guilt, unsure why. Had he heard anything? Forcing herself to remain composed, she reached out and touched his cheek. "Why is your face so flushed, and you're covered in sweat? Were you out horse riding and catching the wind with that Yan Jing boy again?"

Seeing him like this, the Second Madame felt an inexplicable chill and awkwardly asked, "Has Brother Zhao had his midday meal? Shall I send a maid to bring it to your bedchamber?"

Ling Zhao gave a faint "Mn," but bowed to the two madames before turning and walking away.

"Where are you going?"

"To the military camp."

"This child!"

Madame Ling stared blankly at his retreating figure, feeling deep down that something was not quite right. However, without dwelling on it, she turned back, linked arms with the Second Madame, and hurriedly left.

***

Returning to his estate after morning court, Han Yi had just lifted the carriage curtain to reveal a handsome and dashing face when he noticed a plump, elderly woman in dark brown attire waiting before the manor gates. His own doormen and pages were treating her with exceptional deference.

This elderly woman, around sixty years of age, was known as Mother Wu. She had been Madame Dowager Ling's dowry maid and was now the steward of the inner courtyard of the Ling residence.

Seeing Han Yi step out of the carriage, Mother Wu stepped forward, offered a slight bow, and said, "This old servant is from the Ling residence. Our Madame Dowager has instructed me to pass this on to you, and to thank the Heir Apparent for your kindness the other day."

Mother Wu could not speak too explicitly, but given Han Yi's intelligence, he instantly guessed the matter concerned Xiao Ming.

During the horse fall a few days ago, although Xiao Ming already knew it was Ling Zhao who risked his life to save her, the horse Jueying had been snatched from Han Yi's possession. Furthermore, it was Han Yi who had dispatched a soft sedan chair and arranged for an elderly matron to escort Xiao Ming back to the meditation chambers under the radar, preserving her reputation for purity as an unmarried maiden, and finally, he had even secretly sent an imperial physician to treat Ling Zhao's injuries privately.

Such a massive debt of gratitude naturally required a token of thanks to show appreciation.

Han Yi suddenly recalled a joke that He Jingzhi had once told him.

He had said that in popular storybooks, whenever a distressed maiden was rescued by a hero, if she fancied him, she would offer her body in return; if she did not fancy him, she could only pledge to "become an ox or a horse in the next life to repay this life-saving grace."

As for the person she fancied, naturally she would wear crimson attire, initiate conversation, introduce herself, exchange teasing banter over flowers, and vie for his attention.

Yet for the one she did not fancy, she could only maintain the utmost propriety, even entrusting her thank-you gifts through the guise of Madame Dowager Ling—courteous, polished, and displaying the refined demeanor of a noble family.

Truly deserving of a daughter born to a family of imperial merchants; her grasp of human relations and the ways of the world left not a single flaw to be picked.

She was simply a little sprite.

While Han Yi was secretly amused in his heart, Mother Wu presented him with an invitation to Madame Dowager Ling's upcoming birthday banquet, offering another bow. "Our Madame Dowager invites you to be our guest."

"This junior shall naturally attend."

***

Mother Wu had never expected Heir Apparent Han to agree with such brisk readiness. Judging by the pecking order in the capital city, the Grand Duke of Han's estate held an aloof and unchallenged position at the very top of the hierarchy, to the extent that even banquet invitations would normally require a Ling household steward to deliver in person.

Yet Heir Apparent Han had spent several consecutive days sending letters of inquiry to Madame Dowager Ling. If flattery were the motive, it should have been the Ling family currying favor with him; why had the dynamic suddenly reversed?

With one sending flowers and trees, and the other offering formal greetings, even Madame Dowager Ling herself was filled with doubt.

What could possibly be the meaning behind these two families, who usually had little to do with one another, suddenly acting in such a manner?

Even after returning from court, Han Yi remained bogged down by official duties, and by the time he finally found leisure, the sky had grown very late.

It was only deep in the night, shrouded in stillness, that he returned to his study and unsealed the brocade box that Xiao Ming had entrusted Mother Wu to deliver.

Inside the box lay a small, dark-yellow stone, uncarved as yet, with landscapes delicately engraved on its reverse. Shaped like a tiny seal, it was no longer than half of his finger.

He picked it up, examined it closely, and muttered to himself, "Tianhuang stone."

It was often said that Tianhuang was exceptionally precious—an ounce of Tianhuang worth ten ounces of gold—making it the supreme material for seals in the entire world, used even for the imperial seals.

Given Han Yi's background, how could he possibly fail to recognize Tianhuang?

Presenting such a valuable treasure to him clearly showed that her gratitude for his life-saving grace was sincere.

Yet this rare and wondrous object evidently failed to please Han Yi, for a cold sneer tugged at the corner of his lips, the chill not reaching his eyes.

"Someone come."

The study door opened in response. "Heir Apparent, what are your orders?"

"Go and find out what gift she sent back to Li Zongfang."

The page froze for a fraction of a second, then immediately bowed. "Understood."

***

Despite the late hour, Xiao Ming, reclining across her bed, remained wide awake. Her dark, cloud-like hair spilled loosely across the pillowcase, presenting a truly pleasing sight.

Yet it was hardly her fault that sleep eluded her.

First, after finishing dinner that evening, Madame Dowager Ling had kept her behind alone for an intimate chat, even expressing a desire to take her as an adopted granddaughter and arrange a glorious marriage for her, allowing her to wed with the identity of a Ling family daughter.

Clearly, Madame Ling had already informed Madame Dowager Ling about the formal visiting cards. Knowing full well Han Yi's intentions toward Xiao Ming, someone as shrewd as ginger how could she fail to understand the principle of riding the current to do a favor?

In doing so, she would bestow honor and prestige upon Xiao Ming, honor the debt of gratitude owed to the Xiao family for risking their lives, and simultaneously draw a talented young prodigy like Han Yi into their fold. Both substance and face were preserved, making it a genuinely joyous outcome for all.

Given how abruptly the Dowager had come to value her, she ought to have been jumping for joy, yet for some reason, her heart felt thoroughly unsettled.

Frowning in irritation, Xiao Ming tossed and turned, burying her face deep within the quilt.

Second, right before Ling Zhao had lost consciousness to a high fever, the words he muttered seemed to echo endlessly in her ears: "Ming'er, thank goodness it was me who fell ill, and not you."

Xiao Ming bolted upright, then viciously kicked the quilt away.

"Jerk! Shameless scoundrel! Little hound!"

The door to her bedchamber suddenly stirred. Her breath hitched, and she instantly fell silent.

Qing-zhu was on night watch tonight; was it her coming to patrol the rooms?

"Qing-zhu?" Xiao Ming called out.

No one answered. There was only the sound of heavy footsteps drawing closer, step by step.

These were not the footsteps of a woman.

"Qing—"

Suddenly, the bed curtains were swept aside, and a tall, slender figure leaned inward. No candles were lit in the room, save for the dim moonlight filtering through the window, illuminating his handsome features.

"Who are you cursing?"

Xiao Ming's pupils constricted sharply, her entire body freezing.

The room plunged into a deathly, suffocating silence.

Ling Zhao lifted the hem of his robe and sat on the edge of the bed, his overwhelming presence bearing down on her. Instinctively, she shuffled further back against the headboard.

Her soft, dark hair hung loose, with a single strand draped across her chest. Her energetic kicking of the quilt moments earlier had slightly disheveled her collar, exposing half of a snow-white, jade-smooth shoulder. Her neck was slender, and her pristine sleeping robe hung loosely about her frame.

Watching her startled, delicate face and her soft, slightly parted lips, his gaze darkened by several shades.

He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to strip away everything and ruthlessly torment her.

"How did you get in through the bedchamber door? Where is Qing-zhu?"

Lowering his gaze to conceal the look in his eyes, Ling Zhao spoke in a slightly husky voice, "Next time, I'll come in through the window."

Xiao Ming's expression shifted, her eyes widening in disbelief at his utter lack of shame.

In truth, Ling Zhao had only answered half of her question; deep down, he still cared for her feelings and dared not mention that he had simply struck Qing-zhu unconscious with a single palm strike, leaving her collapsed outside the room. Otherwise, Xiao Ming would have leaped up to berate him.

Vigilantly, she stared at him like a startled little fawn.

"Y-you coming here so late... is there something you need?"