His throat tightened somewhat, and along with it his chest felt unwell. Li Jingyun frowned, turning his head aside.

“Open the door for me.”

Caught off guard by his sharp gaze, Nanny Xun stepped back twice, quickly lowering her eyes.

“Young Master.” She bent her knees. “You know our Great Liang’s rules well. Once this door is locked, there’s no precedent for handing over the key.”

“You can’t give me the key?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine.” Li Jingyun nodded. “You eat the palace’s rice. This lord has no reason to make things difficult for you.”

Relieved, Nanny Xun bent her knees to bow. “Thank you for your understand—”

The final word never made it out. Before her stood a thunderous crash—the thick wooden door was kicked clean off its hinges, the coiled chain and the intact iron lock crashing to the ground with a clang. The wind outside rushed into the dark room, stirring up dust and straw across the floor.

Nanny Xun stared, stunned, a chill crawling up her spine to her back.

She wanted to reach out and grab Li Jingyun, but her fingers fell just half an inch short—the pale blue sleeve swept past in the wind, and the man strode through the door over the scattered debris.

Light entered with him, illuminating half the room, making the blood on the figure in the straw all the more glaring.

Even with all this commotion, the person hadn’t reacted. Li Jingyun had already braced himself, but when he actually drew close and saw the countless raw, bleeding wounds beneath the tattered robe, his steps still faltered.

Yin Huayue—this person had a mouth as tough as an unboilable duck, infuriating at times, enough to make one want to roll her up and toss her out of the East Courtyard.

But—tossing her out was one thing. He’d never once wanted her dead.

Li Jingyun stood silently, and after a long moment, finally reached out to check for her breath. Perhaps because the dark room was so cold, his fingertips trembled slightly, stopping in front of her, unable to move forward another inch for a long while.

The figure in the straw stirred slightly.

The movement was tiny—just a fingertip lifting, brushing against the dry grass with a faint rustle—but Li Jingyun saw it, his pupils contracting, and he turned his face away, withdrawing his hand quickly.

“This lord knew it. You—there’s no way you’d die that easily.”

He paused, then laughed softly. “Not even the blades forged at Lianqing Workshop are as hard as your bones.”

Huayue’s eyes opened slightly, her vision blurred by the blood crust sticking to her lashes. A sound reached her ears, buzzing, indistinct. After a good while, she finally made out the figure crouched before her.

This person, backlit, looked just as he had that day on the training grounds—like blazing fire under a scorching sun, brimming with vitality, the blue-carp-and-snow-brocade robe worn just right, complementing the spring scenery outside.

Inexplicably, Huayue’s lips curved. “Outside…”

Her voice came out impossibly hoarse the moment she opened her mouth.

Li Jingyun couldn’t quite hear her and leaned closer, brow furrowed. “What did you say?”

“The flowers outside… are they blooming well?” She forced out the whole sentence with effort, throat bobbing, then smiled again, brows curving gently, a faint light rising in her eyes.

Half her body was soaked in filth—dust, weeds, dried pools of blood—no different from some vengeful ghost crawled out of the underworld. And yet her first words were to ask about flowers.

The flowers outside were, of course, blooming well—forsythia, magnolia, peonies, well-tended in the courtyard, already bursting into riotous color early in the season.

He glanced at her, inexplicably annoyed. “Why ask that?”

Huayue laughed softly, her gaze drifting downward. After a moment’s hesitation, she still reached out a blood-stained finger and grasped the hem of his robe.

“This servant… wants to go out and see the flowers.” She gripped the hem of his robe, tongue lightly wetting her cracked lips, half-lidded eyes looking up at him, brows softening. “Is that all right?”

“…”

Li Jingyun lowered his eyes and cursed under his breath, unusually irritable, then stood and yanked the hem of his robe from her grasp without mercy.

Dust rose again all around; Huayue hastily shut her eyes.

She should have known—this man probably wanted to skin her alive. Appealing to him for help was the most foolish thing she could have done.

Hugging her knees, Huayue tried to curl back into the straw, but the moment she raised her head, someone caught her by the calf.

“Stop squirming.” Li Jingyun bent down, slid a hand behind the crook of her knees and her neck, and after a pause, lifted her entirely into his arms. “It’s just a few worthless flowers? This lord will take you to see them, look your fill.”

Straw scattered and fell from her body as they turned, and suddenly light burst before her eyes. Amid the dappled shadow and glow, she caught a glimpse of Li Jingyun’s profile, edged in light, turning toward her.

Huayue froze, lashes trembling slightly, and slowly raised a hand to shield her eyes.

Nanny Xun’s voice sounded quickly ahead of them. “Young Master, this person was locked in here by order from above. If she goes missing, this servant can’t account for it.”

“Need an account? Simple enough. Whoever locked her in can come explain themselves to this lord. Even beating a dog requires acknowledging its master—whoever’s beating this lord’s person should at least send over a formal notice.”

“This…”

“This lord’s jade pendant at his waist—take it as payment for your trouble. Now get out of my way.”

He strode out the door, breath somewhat unsteady. She was pressed close enough to clearly hear his heartbeat.

Erratic, fast, urgent.

“Have Wen Guzhi come to the East Courtyard. Don’t make a fuss about it.”

“Yes.”

She seemed to hear Badou’s voice somewhere nearby. The air around her gradually grew fresher, wind rustling through the trees, the scent of magnolia still lingering in the courtyard.

Huayue wanted to look up and see Li Jingyun’s expression, but her eyelids felt as though weighted by two millstones. She’d only just glimpsed his jaw when everything went black.

Wen Guzhi had been enjoying a pleasant tune at Qifeng Tower when he suddenly found himself, chair and all, carried off to the General’s residence.

The tea in his hand was still steaming when the chair touched down.

He stared stiffly at the man before him for a moment, then simply continued drinking his tea. “Your color’s not good. Give me your wrist, let me check your pulse.”

Li Jingyun rubbed his temple. “It’s not me.”

“Hm?” Wen Guzhi tilted his head.

On the bed in the inner room lay a person; even without approaching, the thick scent of blood was unmistakable in the air.

His expression sobered. He stood, strode over, and checked her pulse.

“Third Young Master, this is truly excessive.” He frowned. “How did a young woman end up hurt this badly?”

Li Jingyun leaned against the partition, tone sour. “It’s not me.”

He paused, then looked away. “Though I suppose it’s related to me, in a way. Just save her, and I’ll agree to what you asked about earlier.”

Wen Guzhi looked at him with surprise, but had no time to dwell on it. He pulled out his life-saving medicine and had it administered to her, then sent someone to fetch water.

“Third Young Master, step out. I need to clean this young lady’s wounds.”

Li Jingyun nodded, turning to leave, but after two steps something felt off. “I’ll step out—and what about you?”

Wen Guzhi looked baffled. “I’m a physician. Hasn’t Third Young Master heard that illness doesn’t shy from its healer?”

He walked back over and added casually, “The dog I keep doesn’t shy from me either.”

Eyebrows arched, Wen Guzhi glanced meaningfully toward the bed. “So this is—the maidservant?”

“Enough chatter.” Li Jingyun pulled a clean set of clothes from the inlaid rosewood cabinet nearby. “I’ll clean her wounds. You wait here, just write up the prescription.”

Wen Guzhi was delighted—in all their years as brothers, this was the first time he’d seen this man care about anyone. The others had always said Third Young Master smiled easily at people on the surface, but was truly cold-hearted underneath—no matter how many hearts the capital’s beauties offered up to him, he’d trample them without so much as a glance, the very picture of someone who observed the romantic world from afar but felt nothing of its passions up close.

But now…

Amused and gloating in equal measure, Wen Guzhi mixed the medicine for him, then went back out to continue his tea.

The curtain at the partition fell. Li Jingyun sat down at the bedside and, tone sour, said quietly, “There are no other women in my courtyard. If you want to live, treat her wounds. I didn’t blame you last time, so you have no grounds to blame me now.”

With that, he reached out and untied her sash.

The pale blue fabric, dyed deep red by her blood, felt damp and heavy in his hand. Li Jingyun tossed it aside with distaste, then pulled her close and slid the robe off her shoulders from behind.

His own robe wasn’t thick, made of silk brocade, and with their bodies pressed together this way, he could clearly feel her warmth and softness.

Pressing his lips together, uncomfortable, Li Jingyun took the medicine-soaked cloth and examined her back.

Once he saw it, he understood—she truly had no shortage of wounds. Where her garment fell away, new wounds layered atop old ones, not a patch of unbroken skin left. The bruises from her last beating were still there, purple-blue, and now the fresh wounds had reopened over the old, an unbearable sight.

Li Jingyun grew more irritated the longer he looked. “A woman with a body full of scars like this—she’ll never find a husband in this lifetime.”

As he spoke, he caught sight of a bite mark on her shoulder.

The mark looked fairly fresh, the bruising not yet faded, with two small scabs—judging by the shape, someone had bitten her from behind, in a position that suggested considerable intimacy.

Li Jingyun’s face darkened, and he opened his mouth to scold her for shamelessness, but before the words came out, a few images flashed through his mind.

Candlelight flickering, a needle heated over the cold flame, a gentle maidservant pinning down an arm to stitch a wound—but the person receiving it, in pain, had bitten down on her shoulder without a second thought.

“…”

Guiltily rubbing his own arm, Li Jingyun coughed twice, pretending he’d seen nothing, and wiped the dirt and grime from around her wounds clean, wringing the cloth out in the medicine basin with one hand before continuing to tend to her injuries.

Wen Guzhi had finished three cups of tea before the partition curtain was finally lifted.

“Well now.” He looked at the young master, laughing softly. “What, is it hot in there?”

“Enough chatter.” Li Jingyun frowned. “Why isn’t she awake yet?”

Wen Guzhi stood, speaking unhurriedly. “A young woman’s constitution is naturally weaker to begin with. After a beating like this, with such blood loss, she’s not going to wake up anytime soon. I checked her pulse just now—straight and steady in form, but weak and hollow in strength, a sign of overwork and too little rest. Since she has this chance to rest more, no need to wake her.”

Handing him the finished prescription, Wen Guzhi turned to go. “At this point, even the imperial physician couldn’t do more. Just follow the prescription and get the medicine prepared.”

He’d barely stepped one foot out the door when his collar was seized from behind. Wen Guzhi’s brow twitched—a very bad feeling coming over him.

As an imperial physician, he often heard people say: fail to cure so-and-so, and you’ll be buried with them.

He genuinely despised this cruel, inhumane sentiment.

But judging by Third Young Master’s expression, he seemed about to say exactly that.

Wen Guzhi looked at him with grim determination, prepared to demonstrate an imperial physician’s unyielding resolve unto death.

However, that wasn’t what Li Jingyun said.

He looked down at him from above, and after a long moment, simply said, “That matter you mentioned before—I’ve thought it over. I still don’t have the time.”

“…”

“My lord.” Wen Guzhi’s face fell, and he retracted the foot he’d already stepped out the door with. “Don’t worry, I’ll watch over her personally. Even if the person in there ends up in the underworld, I’ll drag her back for you.”