The instant Lu Qian’s hand made contact with Ling Jingshu’s fingers, all color drained from her face. A violent spasm seized her stomach, nausea surging upward, and her entire body began to tremble uncontrollably.

A moment later, Ling Jingshu staggered back several steps, bent over, and retched.

Lu Qian was startled by Ling Jingshu’s extreme reaction. Without thinking, he rushed forward to support her arm: “A’Shu, what is the matter with you…”

But Ling Jingshu gave him a sharp shove.

The force of it caught him completely off guard.

The slight, frail Lu Qian stumbled backward several steps, colliding with the table. A vase at the table’s edge swayed and then fell crashing to the floor, producing a sharp, ringing clatter.

Outside the door, Bai Yu heard the strange sound from within the room. Her expression changed instantly; she strode swiftly to the doorway and pushed the door open.

Ling Jingshu was still bent over, her face contorted in pain as she continued to retch.

Lu Qian leaned against the edge of the table; at his feet lay the shattered remains of the vase. His face had gone an oddly ashen white.

Bai Yu’s heart sank. She hurried to Ling Jingshu’s side, took her arm, and asked in urgent alarm: “Miss, why are you sick again?”

Again?

Lu Qian caught that word with sharp ears, and his brow furrowed: “Bai Yu, what do you mean by ‘again’? Did A’Shu vomit like this before as well?”

Bai Yu was occupied with tending to Ling Jingshu and had no time to notice that Lu Qian had switched to an intimate form of address. Without turning her head, she replied: “Yes — a few days ago, the eldest young master of the Lu Family came by and spoke with Miss alone in private. I don’t know what he said, but Miss became nauseous and was sick.”

Lu Qian: “……”

No wonder Lu Hong had refused to say anything about what had happened that day, no matter how hard he was pressed. So there had been this additional layer to it.

No wonder he had made the painful decision to refuse when the Ling woman brought up the match.

Ling Jingshu’s reaction was this extreme — for a man, it could only amount to a profound humiliation. Even he, resolute as he thought himself, watching Ling Jingshu now, felt a bitterness settling in his heart…

Ling Jingshu leaned against Bai Yu, her beautiful face drained of color, eyes half-closed: “Lu Qian, you may go. Do not forget what you promised me.”

Lu Qian let out a low sound of assent. He cast one last look at Ling Jingshu with a complex expression, and finally departed.

Bai Yu helped Ling Jingshu back to her room to rest, then turned to give Xuan Cao her instructions: “Go to the west wing and clean up what’s on the floor. Be discreet about it — be quick and nimble.” She paused, then added one more reminder: “Whatever you see, do not look startled, and do not speak of it to anyone.”

Xuan Cao gave an obedient acknowledgment and withdrew at once.

Bai Yu, unwilling to leave Ling Jingshu to herself, gently pushed open the door and went in.

Ling Jingshu, who had been lying on the bed, had at some unknown point already sat herself up straight. She had already grown calm; the pallor that had drained her pretty face was gradually filling back in with color.

Bai Yu sat down on the edge of the bed, her face full of concern: “Miss, how are you feeling now?” As she spoke, she reached out and took Ling Jingshu’s arm.

Ling Jingshu bowed her head and looked steadily at Bai Yu’s hand. A knowing, rueful smile flickered through her eyes.

So that was it.

When Bai Yu and Ling Xiao touched her, she felt nothing out of the ordinary. When Ling Jingxian, the Old Madam, or even the Ling woman herself touched her hand, she was unaffected. Yet when Lu Hong and Lu Qian touched her fingers, she was overcome with wave upon wave of nausea — and was sick on the spot…

And then there was that one day — she had merely drawn near Lu An, and her entire body had seized up, her stomach revolting in disgust.

In her mind’s eye, other male faces surfaced one by one — Ling Wuye, Ling Ting… and the young male servants and guards within the household… just thinking of them caused her already-quieted stomach to begin churning again.

All of these unmistakable facts could not be ignored or denied.

With the sole exception of her younger brother Ling Xiao, she could not endure the touch of any man at all.

What manner of strange affliction was this?

Bai Yu suppressed the questions crowding her mind, and said softly: “Miss, you should rest well for now. Of today’s events, only this servant and Xuan Cao know. I have already instructed Xuan Cao to keep it secret and not speak of it to anyone.”

Ling Jingshu gave a murmur of assent.

Bai Yu thought for a moment, then asked with careful hesitation: “Miss, should we not send for a physician?”

Two unaccountable episodes of vomiting in just a few days — no matter how one thought about it, something was not right. This simply could not go on.

“There is no need to call a physician.” Ling Jingshu composed herself and said, in a contemplative tone: “I know my own body. I know what is the matter with it. And besides, this is not a bad thing for me — if anything, it is a good thing.”

Bai Yu: “……”

What on earth was Miss saying? Why could she not understand a single word of it?

Ling Jingshu drew a deep breath and smiled at Bai Yu: “Bai Yu, you may withdraw for now. I wish to be alone for a while.”

Though Bai Yu was reluctant to leave, she never questioned her mistress’s commands. She gave a nod and a word of acknowledgment, and withdrew.

After Bai Yu left, the room fell completely silent. Ling Jingshu sat at the head of the bed, brow furrowed in long and careful deliberation. At last, her brow smoothed out and she set her resolve.

She could not go on putting this off any longer.

She needed to resolve the trouble of Lu Qian as quickly as possible, and to lead Ling Xiao away from Dingzhou at the earliest opportunity.

When Lu Qian returned to his room, he found Lu Hong already inside when he pushed the door open. He was not the least bit surprised, and called out evenly: “Elder Brother.”

Lu Hong acknowledged it and did not rush to ask any questions. His gaze settled steadily on Lu Qian’s face, not letting pass a single change, however slight.

Lu Qian’s somewhat youthful face held no expression, and he allowed Lu Hong to study him as he pleased.

“Did you speak to Cousin-sister Shu?” Lu Hong finally opened his mouth to ask.

Lu Qian gave a nod.

Lu Hong suddenly felt his throat go dry. He forced out the next few words with difficulty: “Did she… did she agree?”

Lu Qian smiled slightly: “Young girls are all modest and reserved — she did not agree outright, but said she needed a few days to consider it before giving me her answer.”

Ling Jingshu had not refused him in an instant — she wanted to take a few days to consider it? Lu Hong felt as though he had swallowed a cup of spoiled, bitterly soured vinegar; his heart was both sour and bitter. And the smile on Lu Qian’s face was especially galling.

Lu Hong’s heart was choked with irritation and distress. Unable to contain himself, he jabbed at Lu Qian with a few cutting remarks: “Don’t get ahead of yourself and celebrate too soon. It may well be that Cousin-sister Shu, seeing how young you are, cannot bring herself to refuse you outright, and so has said tactfully that she needs a few days to think it over.”

The color of Lu Qian’s face shifted slightly, then just as quickly composed itself: “A’Shu may appear gentle, but she is, in truth, a person of strong conviction. If she were genuinely unwilling, she would not trouble herself with other considerations — she would have refused me on the spot. This point, Elder Brother, should understand better than anyone.”

Lu Hong: “……”

Lu Hong’s expression shifted from red to white and back again; his eyes dimmed. The scene that had wounded and humiliated him surfaced once more in his mind…

Lu Qian watched the desolation and loss on Lu Hong’s face, and felt a jolt of savage satisfaction deep in his heart.

If there was anyone in this world he resented and despised most, it was none other than Lu Hong.

In their previous life, Lu Hong and Ling Jingshu had fallen in love at first sight, their hearts drawn to each other. The betrothal had proceeded smoothly, and he had taken Ling Jingshu as his bride in grand style. The young couple was inseparable, sweet and loving, admired by all.

No one knew that from the age of twelve he had already fallen for Ling Jingshu. Even after she became his sister-in-law, he could not sever himself from this obsessive devotion. The more tenderly Lu Hong and Ling Jingshu loved each other, the stronger his resentment and hatred toward Lu Hong grew.

And so it was that later on, he knew full well that Lu Hong had been placed under house arrest in the capital, that the letters written home had been intercepted, that Ling Jingshu waited in grief and pain and despair for Lu Hong to return — and yet he had steeled his heart and said nothing. He had not breathed a word of the truth to her.

Once Ling Jingshu had given up entirely on Lu Hong, she would open her heart to him and accept him — or so he had believed at the time. What he had never in his wildest imagination anticipated was that the Ling woman would move against her with such vicious brutality, or that the seemingly upright Lu An would abandon all decency and force himself upon his own daughter-in-law…

Lu Qian had no wish to revisit that memory — one that had made him wish for death. He reined in his thoughts and said: “If there is nothing else, please go back and rest, Elder Brother. I am also tired today.”

Yet Lu Hong did not leave. He fixed Lu Qian with a deep, searching look and suddenly said: “Second Brother, you seem different from before.” The face was the same familiar one he had always known — the way he spoke, moved, sat, stood was all unchanged. And yet some subtle and hard-to-name quality in him had shifted.

Lu Qian’s heartbeat quickened by two beats, but his face gave nothing away: “How can Elder Brother say so? In what way am I different from before?”

It was precisely that expression.

Composed and unruffled, appearing perfectly guileless — and yet with a deep, unfathomable light flickering in his eyes that could not be explained away.

This was absolutely not an expression that a twelve-year-old boy should possess.

Lu Hong’s heart gave a secret lurch of alarm. His gaze locked onto Lu Qian without releasing it: “I cannot quite say in what way you are different. But I do feel that ever since you woke up on the boat that day, there has been something a little off about you.”

Lu Qian’s heart lurched beyond his control.

He had always believed his concealment was flawless — that no one could detect anything unusual about him. He had not expected Lu Hong to have noticed this… No — Lu Hong had merely grown suspicious. He absolutely could not let himself fall into a panic and lose his footing.

Lu Qian feigned displeasure and gave a cold laugh: “Elder Brother, could it be that you resent me over A’Shu’s matter, and are saying these groundless things to tarnish my name?”

Lu Hong stumbled over this, and explained with some awkwardness: “Second Brother, you have misunderstood me. I have absolutely no resentment toward you. I simply feel that compared to before, you seem somehow changed.”

“Yes — I have indeed changed a great deal.” Lu Qian simply admitted it: “Before, I was still a child and understood nothing. Now I have a woman I care for — I intend to take A’Shu as my wife, and of course I must change accordingly. What is so strange about that?”

One A’Shu after another, said with a tone of remarkable familiarity and intimacy.

Lu Hong was left without a single word to say. After a long pause, he managed to produce an awkward smile: “I’m sorry — I was too suspicious. Please don’t take it to heart. I’m a bit tired. I’ll head back now.”

With that, he turned and left.

His steps were hurried — a clear and unmistakable retreat in defeat.

The victor, Lu Qian, wore no smile either. He stared at Lu Hong’s retreating back with a brooding expression, his eyes going dark.