Ji Yingying clutched the medicine bottle tightly as she walked step by step out of the hall.
Opposite the main building of the back courtyard stood the front hall, with its overhanging eaves and two towering firewalls at either end. At that moment, a figure slowly rose from the shadows of the firewall.
From the corridor, Ji Yingying saw him standing beneath the night sky. It seemed as if he were the only person in existence between heaven and earth, carrying endless desolation and solitude.
“Yang Jingyuan.” Her lips trembled as she whispered his name.
This scene, this moment, matched his name so perfectly. Standing quietly, his heart as deep as an abyss, unreachable. She unconsciously took a step forward. As if doing so would bring her closer to him.
Yet that indefensible predicament gripped her throat.
“Trust me! Yang Jingyuan, Third Young Master Yang, you must trust me!”
Ji Yingying screamed internally, hoping Yang Jingyuan would float to her side like before, speaking his mind freely, pouring out all his doubts and dissatisfaction.
He stood there motionless. The night sky was blue, slightly deeper than azure. He was a silhouette against the light, standing so quietly against the white firewall.
A trace of panic rose in Ji Yingying’s heart. If she didn’t call out to him now, she felt he would vanish into the night, never to appear again.
“Third Young Master Yang! Third Young Master!” Ji Yingying ran toward him across the way, but missed her step and fell from the corridor. She cried out in pain, hastily looking up.
He still stood on the roof ridge, silently gazing down at her. Though she couldn’t see his expression clearly, Ji Yingying could feel his coldness. She completely forgot Sheng Fengze’s threats, her heart pounding wildly, only wanting him not to misunderstand: “I’ll tell you everything…”
Her pomegranate-red wide-sleeved brocade robe spread across the ground. Like blood pooling in his heart.
“I’ve always hoped you would call me Third Young Master. I never imagined it would be at a time like this.”
The midnight was quiet. His voice was soft, floating down like sleep-talk from above.
Ji Yingying’s heart convulsed. Not bothering to get up, she looked up at him, shaking her head desperately: “It’s not what you think…”
The black figure leaped lightly and disappeared.
Ji Yingying stared wide-eyed at the now-empty roof ridge. A waning crescent moon hung in the clear night sky, its silver hook piercing her heart.
“Yang Jingyuan!” Ji Yingying cried out, feeling a sharp ache deep in her nose as tears burst forth.
After crying for a while, she wiped her tears messily, only then noticing the pain in her ankle.
Ji Yingying pushed against the ground and stood up on one leg. She hopped a few steps and sat down holding the corridor railing. Looking back, everyone in the room was still unconscious. She lifted her skirt to look—her foot was twisted, the ankle swollen high.
“Yang Jingyuan, you self-righteous idiot!”
“So what if you’re from a rich family? How pretentious! Last time was the same, throwing away the porridge pot without listening to any explanation!”
“If you won’t pay attention to me, I won’t pay attention to you either!”
“Only caring about your feelings—yes, I kept things from you, but did you ever think about why?”
“Arrogant fool! You worm!”
After cursing Yang Jingyuan, Ji Yingying gripped the medicine bottle and turned her hatred toward Sheng Fengze: “Monster! Yang Jingyuan will find your weakness and destroy you!”
The weather was too cold, and she sneezed. Suddenly she remembered how Yang Jingyuan had sent two loads of fresh fish when she caught a cold last time. This time if she fell ill again, he probably wouldn’t send even a single fish. Grief welled up, and Ji Yingying began crying again.
“Sister… Yingying!”
Ji Yingying heard her brother’s voice and turned around sobbing: “Brother!”
Ji Yaoting saw his sister’s figure in the corridor, shook his head, and stumbled out.
Her makeup was smeared with tears, and hairpins were askew in her bun. Ji Yaoting was startled and anxiously lowered his voice: “What did he do to you?”
“Brother!” Ji Yingying hugged her brother pitifully. She didn’t want to tell him about Sheng Fengze forcing her to embrace him while Yang Jingyuan watched. She shook her head and said, “I fell and twisted my ankle.”
Hearing it was just a twisted ankle, Ji Yaoting collapsed onto the corridor: “Yingying, thank goodness you’re alright. Otherwise, when Mother wakes up, I wouldn’t have the face to see her.”
“I got the medicine. I’m fine.” Ji Yingying handed the medicine bottle to her brother.
By then, the matrons and two maids had gradually awakened. Ji Yaoting had to lecture them: “Now you know the White King of Nanzhao’s methods? Trying to put on airs before him—he couldn’t even be bothered to acknowledge it. We have the medicine now, so everyone keep your mouths shut. As long as we don’t speak of this, once he returns to Nanzhao, it will all be over.”
Ji Yingying didn’t want to make things worse, only saying that when she awoke and saw Sheng Fengze in the courtyard, she rushed for the medicine and fell from the corridor, twisting her ankle. Matron Ji volunteered to carry her back to the side courtyard, chattering along the way: “Young Miss should stay away from that southern barbarian in the future. Last time when he kicked me in the chest, it took several days to recover. When you marry into the Yang family in April, you’ll have someone to protect you.”
“Mm.” Ji Yingying buried her face in Matron Ji’s sturdy back. Would Yang Jingyuan break off the engagement? She had once angrily mentioned breaking it off herself. Now, thinking he might do it, Ji Yingying’s heart trembled. The empty feeling was like missing a step from a height.
When she heard about Zhao Xiuyuan and Niu Wu’niang’s engagement, she couldn’t believe her ears. She was heartbroken that Zhao Xiuyuan could treat her this way. On one hand, making passionate vows to her, promising to propose after the brocade competition. On the other hand, becoming engaged to Niu Wu’niang. What hurt most was that she had been kept in the dark while exhausting herself helping the Zhao family win the brocade title.
But she had still forgiven Zhao Xiuyuan, understanding his difficulties and helplessness. She simply accepted that they weren’t meant to be.
Why did thinking about Yang Jingyuan breaking off their engagement feel so completely different?
Ji Yingying remembered what Zhao Xiuyuan had once said. Why had she been able to let go of Zhao Xiuyuan so graciously?
She tightened her arms around Matron Ji’s neck and mumbled: “Matron, what if Third Young Master Yang doesn’t marry me?”
“What nonsense! The betrothal gifts have already been delivered. Just waiting for the wedding on April 12th. A hundred days to heal broken bones—by the time your foot is better, it will be time for your wedding!” Matron Ji chuckled, “I’ll miss you, but not like your Matron Li who took a vow of spinsterhood. She can’t leave your mother either. The household also needs Matron Tian. My old man is fond of you too. Once the madam recovers, our whole family will ask her permission to serve as your attendants. Your Uncle Ji Fu can drive your carriage, young Ji Ying can run errands and deliver messages. I’ll stay in the inner courtyard with you. With me there, no one will dare bully you.”
“Matron.” Ji Yingying began crying again pathetically, “I won’t marry. I’ll stay home. Our family can live happily together.”
“Silly girl!” Matron Ji smiled as she carried her into the room and set her down on the couch.
Removing her shoes and socks, they saw the swollen ankle. Matron Ji instructed Ling’er and Xiang’er to bring medicinal wine and bruise ointment, carefully tending to it herself before gently placing her foot under the covers.
Matron Ji sent the two maids to bed, saying she would watch over Ji Yingying tonight.