She seemed to know her aura was intimidating, so after Zhi Qiu took the items, she walked some distance away.

“What a pitiful person,” Zhi Qiu sighed softly, writing quickly on the paper.

The summer breeze was stuffy, seeping in bit by bit through the fluttering carriage curtains.

Leaning against the carriage wall, Meng Jun closed his eyes listlessly. He was her widower, yet because of the arranged marriage, the white funeral affairs had to give way to the red wedding. He had to follow the rule of not meeting before the wedding.

Even though she was right next door, even though after today she would no longer exist in this world.

Yet he could not go to her.

Just thinking about it made the young man feel as if a rusty, blunt knife was slowly pressing into his heart, painful and bitter, making it hard to breathe.

Along the way, the wood leaves were fresh green and flowers bloomed in profusion. The vast world continued on, but things had already changed irrevocably.

The carriage stopped at the side gate.

Under the steward’s escort, the young man dragged his feet reluctantly, only catching a glimpse of the household in white from the corner of his eye.

His eyes, swollen from crying, no longer had any tears left. He walked back to his own courtyard unsteadily, sitting in the corridor and listening dazedly to the faint sounds of chanting and bell-ringing coming through the walls.

“Young Master, please have some tea.” Zhi Dong brought over a cup, but the young man in front of him seemed like a fish out of water, his lips dry and drooping. He sat lifeless in the corridor until a figure in black silently approached.

Those red and swollen phoenix eyes finally showed some life. He took the small bundle the mute slave handed over. When he opened it, the solemnity on his face turned to shock.

He stared blankly at the gold ingots and two pastries in the small bundle. For a moment he forgot to be angry, and only asked curiously, “What are all these?”

The mute slave looked equally confused. She took out the small notebook she carried and flipped to the page where Zhi Qiu had written and drawn.

The young man looked closely. There were both words and drawings on it. The first two characters were “gold ingot”, followed by two circles.

“……”

Zhi Qiu’s face turned red as he knelt on the ground and admitted his mistake first. “Young Master, this was this servant’s oversight. This servant is poorly educated and recognized the characters for ‘gold ingot’, but didn’t know how to write ‘candle’ with its many strokes. It was this servant’s carelessness that ruined the Young Master’s important matter.”

He kowtowed repeatedly. Meng Jun’s heart ached. “Forget it. It seems this was Heaven’s will.”

The young man waved his hand and slowly stood up, leaning on the corridor pillar. His cheekbones were flushed an unnatural red. He had only taken one step when a sudden dizziness seemed to whip up a storm in his head, causing him to stagger and almost fall to the ground.

Faster than the two servants was the mute slave standing a few steps away.

The person who fell into her arms had grown much thinner. His forehead pressed heavily against her neck, much hotter than the blazing summer sun.

“Mmm…” That handsome face was flushed red, but tears rolled down from the corners of his eyes. He seemed confused again, using both arms and legs to tightly hug the mute slave who was about to hand him over to the servants.

As soon as Zhi Dong approached, he noticed the mute slave’s stiffness. She seemed unsure how to position her hands and feet. The servant sighed quietly to himself, about to support the feverish young master into the bedroom.

But he stubbornly clung to the mute slave’s shoulders, refusing to let go. His clear voice had gone hoarse, and those chapped lips unconsciously pressed against her neck, murmuring indistinctly.

“Tang… Tang.”

The young man refused to let go no matter what. Zhi Qiu pondered for a moment, then had no choice but to let the mute slave carry the young master into the room first.

He left Zhi Dong to keep watch in the room, while he hurriedly went out to fetch today’s medicinal soup.

Behind the half-lowered gauze curtains, Meng Jun slept with his eyes closed in confusion. The mute slave sat stiffly by the bed, her originally lowered eyes glancing slightly to the side, meeting Zhi Dong’s wide-eyed stare.

He loyally moved a small stool to sit beside the mute slave. Since the young master refused to let go, he had to keep a close eye on this person.

It must be said that just the exposed eyes and forehead of this person were somewhat intimidating. Especially that scar that meandered to the brow bone, twisted and winding like an earthworm diligently loosening soil in spring.

If not for the young master’s sake, he really didn’t want to stay here.

Zhi Dong suppressed his fear and carefully leaned over the bed to gently call out to the confused Meng Jun.

But no matter how he called, those slender fingers only tightly gripped the black sleeve, refusing to let go. When Zhi Dong tried to pull away slightly, the young man lying on the bed immediately frowned uneasily. Those red and swollen phoenix eyes remained tightly shut, but he had already unconsciously moved closer to the mute slave.

Zhi Dong’s eye twitched at the sight. Before he could speak, the mute slave took the initiative to move away.

Until the sky outside the gauze windows gradually darkened.

After drinking the medicinal soup, the young man finally settled down. He rolled towards the inner side of the bed, tightly hugging the soft pillow he had taken from Li Ruantang earlier.

The light in the gauze lamp gradually dimmed. When Zhi Qiu came in to take over the shift, Zhi Dong was dozing off leaning against the edge of the bed.

“Where’s the person?”

The servant who had been woken up rubbed his eyes. “Who?”

“Who else could it be, just that mute slave, weren’t you supposed to watch her?” Zhi Qiu lowered his voice, pulling the sleepy Zhi Dong to the outer room, “I always feel she doesn’t seem like a good person.”

“She is quite ugly.” Zhi Dong nodded in agreement. He took a sip of cold tea to clear his mind, “However, I always feel like I’ve seen her silhouette somewhere before.”

“Stop talking nonsense.”

Zhi Qiu tapped his forehead, “She’s a secret guard from Prince Su’s mansion, where could you have seen her? I think you must still be drowsy and talking in your sleep. Alright, you go rest now. I’ll keep watch over the young master here.”

He quietly extinguished all the gauze lamps in the inner room, then sat in the outer room working on a knotted cord.

Inside the gauze curtains.

The young man who had taken the medicinal soup was having a hazy dream of searching for someone, his handsome brows and eyes furrowed like the rolling hills in the outskirts.

Meng Jun was chasing after that silhouette in the clouds and mist when his feet suddenly gave way, and he fell into a soft cloud.

A familiar sweet scent wafted over him. The young man struggled to sit up, looking around. But apart from that layer of mist that would never disperse, he couldn’t see the lady he longed for at all.

Li Ruantang must resent him for not seeing her one last time.

The young man pressed close to his cloud sadly, “Wuu, Tang… Tang.”

He mumbled and sobbed, talking in his sleep. As if responding to his thoughts, in the illusion, the young man seemed to truly hear that gentle voice, sighing softly, “Silly birdie… don’t cry anymore.”