Chapter 10 "I don't like the name Lingniang..."

"I just want to live a peaceful life."

Do you believe what you're saying? I don't need your charity!

The person on the bed raised their hand and knocked over the porridge bowl. The glazed bowl fell to the ground, the rim chipped off, and all the white porridge spilled out.

Yin Yuan turned his head and his eyes met those of the woman by the door.

Leng Cuizhu was at a loss. She turned to leave, but then suddenly retreated and walked to the bedside.

Her wheat-green skirt was soaked with rice porridge, and she lifted the hem of her skirt.

Leng Zhen immediately sat up: "Mother."

"How are you feeling? Does your wound still hurt?"

"..."

Leng Cuizhu didn't know how to face him.

She was worried about Leng Zhen, after all, he was her child, but when she saw Yin Yuan talking to him, she realized that her worries were so insignificant.

Like her, insignificant, as small as dust.

She was destined to be stripped away.

No one cared about her anger, resentment, and pain before, and it will be the same in the future.

So, she should care about herself.

She should give back her care to herself.

Receiving no reply, Leng Zhen straightened up and took her hand.

"Mother, it was all my fault that day. I never expected you to jump into the water to save me... How could you be so foolish? The lake water was so dirty."

"Yes, it's very dirty."

She withdrew her hand, clutching the shawl draped over her arm: "Even I never expected your father would be willing to spare your life."

Yin Yuan remained seated by the bed, his eyes lowered in deep concentration, as if listening to Buddhist teachings.

"Um."

"Lingniang, I have prepared a gift for you."

The servants carried in a cabinet, which contained a straight-necked pipa, brand new and shiny, with a red jade pendant tied to the headstock and butterfly and cloud patterns carved on the soundboard.

Leng Cuizhu accepted the pipa and thanked her.

"Thank you, sir."

She didn't actually like the pipa; she only played it to amuse others.

In the past, in brothels, if you couldn't play the pipa well, you would starve to death.

She didn't learn the pipa in great depth; all she learned was how to express her feelings with her eyes while playing, and how to flirt with the audience.

She strummed the strings and sang softly for a few moments, then looked up and saw that everyone in front of her was staring at her.

"Thank you, sir." Seeing this, she said it again.

Leng Zhen's eyes lit up with a smile: "Mother, why don't you try playing it? I've never heard you play the pipa before."

Leng Cuizhu looked away and said, "I'm very tired, so I'll be going now."

Yin Yuan lowered his eyes and said, "Mm."

“Lingniang, I’ll come to see you later.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Never mind, you should get settled in early.”

Leng Zhen blinked: "Mother...then you should rest well."

She held her pipa, turned around, and went out.

Before returning to her room, she wandered aimlessly in the courtyard, clutching her pipa, her nose stinging with unconcealed sorrow.

A crow landed on her shoulder: "Why did you come out so quickly? Didn't you say that Leng Zhen barely escaped with his life, and you felt sorry for him and wanted to have a good talk with him?"

"It doesn't matter anymore."

She gripped the strings tightly: "In the past, I was always thinking about how others were doing and how hard it was for them. Now I realize that I am just a plaything for others to amuse themselves. It's ridiculous that the caged bluebird feels sorry for its free owner."

“I don’t like playing the pipa, nor do I like the name Lingniang. I’ve said it before, they never care.”

The crow slightly opened its beak and moved closer.

"...Do you really think so?"

Leng Cuizhu: "They make me feel very uncomfortable."

The winding stream and artificial hill in the courtyard were all things Leng Cuizhu had never seen before. She wandered around the courtyard with the crow, and when she got tired, she would find a pavilion to rest.

Gazing at the misty snow falling all over the courtyard, she couldn't help but lower her eyes and pluck the strings. The melody was melodious and poignant, full of sorrowful yet beautiful sentiments.

Who is playing the pipa?

Suddenly, she stopped what she was doing.

"Madam, it must be the musicians we invited practicing."

"The snow is falling heavier and heavier. Madam, why don't you come back with me? Don't catch a cold."

The sound seemed to be coming from the covered walkway not far away, separated from the pavilion by a few pine trees, so it was not very clear.

"Why go back? Just to sit in the house and wait to die?"

"Where is the master? Is he still with his illegitimate son?"

"Um, I guess so..."

"Sigh, the master is such a jerk. He gets insulted all the time, yet he still tries to smile and begs for mercy. If he's itchy and needs a spanking, he should just go to the stable and find a whip. That bastard doesn't know how to tickle a stallion."

Am I right?

"Ah...yes, Madam is right!"

"Hmph, I shot the arrow astray that day and hit his lover instead, allowing the child to survive. If I had known this would happen, I should have killed two birds with one stone."

"Well, it's good to be alive. There's plenty of time in the future."

The cold green candle covered her lips.

The archer that day was actually Lady Yin?

She thought that Madam Yin was kind and that the maid was a good person who wanted to take care of her, and that she was just feeling guilty and trying to atone for her sins.

Madam Yin had no grudge against her, so it must have been Yin Yuan's doing.

The people in these wealthy and powerful families are all so cold-blooded.

Leng Cuizhu recalled Yin Yuan's cold demeanor and dismissive attitude, which made her feel nauseous.

Leng Cuizhu told Miss Linglan that her injuries had almost healed and that she would apply the ointment herself from now on, without troubling Miss Linglan any longer. Miss Linglan naturally agreed.

At night, she took off her clothes, sat in front of the mirror to apply medicine, and looked up to see the man's face reflected in the bronze mirror.

Yin Yuan stood behind her, placing one hand on her bare shoulder.

"...Why has my lord come?" She pulled her clothes inside out.

"Look at you."

The man picked up a strand of hair from her shoulder, gently rubbing it, then stroked her collarbone, silently moving downwards.

Leng Cuizhu gasped, trembling involuntarily.

The wound on his chest had scabbed over, and when the man touched it, it was very itchy.

She bit her lip and said, "My lord, I'm going to sleep after I've applied the medicine."

"Um."

He remained standing behind her, rubbing the sticky ointment on her skin and spreading it evenly.

A bluish-white ointment was applied to her skin. She closed her eyes, the moonlight catching her eyelashes and falling softly onto the large hand on her chest. The veins on the back of her hand throbbed slightly, revealing her muscles and bones.

He said softly, "Lingniang, if you like it here, you can live in the side courtyard from now on."

Leng Cuizhu: "I don't like it."

The jade ring on her finger pressed against her sternum, and her forehead throbbed with pain.

After a long while, when the candlelight in the room was almost extinguished, the man withdrew his hand and wiped the ointment off his fingers. He replied with a soft "Mm."

"That's fine then. I'll buy a house for you and Leng Zhen."

She turned aside to avoid his hand, fastened her robe, and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"My lord, please leave. I need to rest."

The man in the mirror seemed momentarily dazed.

"……Um."

The house that Yin Yuan chose for her and Leng Zhen in a neighboring county was not as remote as before; it was very close to the Yin family mansion, only a few alleys away.

The house was located on the street, occupying one acre of land, and only required a payment of sixty strings of cash.

After Leng Zhen's injuries had almost healed, Leng Cuizhu took him out of the Yin residence.

After going through many twists and turns, the two of them did indeed live a better life than before, but it wasn't what either of them wanted.

They moved from the small cage to a more spacious and brighter one.

She and Leng Zhen had little luggage, just a few clothes and Leng Zhen's medicine jar.

She had been curious for days about what the Cold Jade Candle was in the jar, but Leng Zhen hid it well, and she never had a chance to see it.

"...It should be some kind of medicinal herbs."

She scooped some medicine from the pot: "How old is he? How could he possibly kill someone? We already asked him before, and he said no."

The rooster smacked its lips: "Host, you didn't seem to... ask, did you?"

He didn't seem to answer either.

The crow nodded: "You were just testing him."

"Without evidence, one should not make unfounded assumptions about others."

She frowned: "Zhenzhen isn't that kind of person, don't frame him."

"Don't talk about this anymore, I won't ask about it again."

She picked up the bowl and said, "I'm going to take him his medicine. You all stay in the kitchen."

"You are not allowed to steal the millet."

She carried the medicine bowl through the corridor to Leng Zhen's small attic.

The attic only had a bed made up; the rest of the room was not yet tidied up, and the dust on the table and candlesticks needed to be wiped off.

Leng Zhen lay face down on the bed, her back covered in crisscrossing scars, and a pinkish-red scar on her waist undulated with her breath, half sunken into the bed and half covered by a thin veil.

Leng Zhen glanced at her and called out softly, "Mother."

Leng Cuizhu placed the medicine bowl on the table by the door and glanced into the inner room: "Zhenzhen, Mother has put your medicine on the table. Remember to drink it."

She turned to leave, but was stopped by a soft call.

"mother……"

Snowflakes fluttered outside the door, and Leng Cuizhu stood at the doorway, her eyelids lowered.

His slightly childish words, choked with emotion, reminded her of his childhood.

Because of the stab she received during childbirth, Leng Zhen was weak as a child and would cough incessantly every winter snowy day.

A toddler learning to speak will only call for its mother when it gets cold.

Mother, Mother… He stood in the snow, calling her name again and again.

She was just a woman in her early twenties at the time.

At that time, she couldn't understand many things and felt a lot of resentment.

She stood under the eaves, longing for the days she used to live in the building.

The child called out to her repeatedly, like a spell, binding her tightly.

She actually compromised.

Or perhaps, she didn't compromise back then. Half of her soul went to the gates of hell, and the other half stayed to become a mother. That's why she always seemed lost and bewildered, leaning against the doorframe.

Her frail body contained only half a soul.

Leng Cuizhu suddenly realized that it was these few words about motherhood that had trapped her for more than ten years.

It was just a few "mother" calls?

It wasn't some kind of monstrous or terrifying thing after all?

Just a few soft, weak "mother" sounds.

She left without looking back, but her sleeve was pulled as she walked into the corridor.

Leng Zhen pulled her tightly.

In his haste to catch up, he put on his robes and shoes but forgot to put them on, and his woolen socks were covered in dust.

"Mother, why are you ignoring me?"

"Go back and take your medicine..."

"Are you angry because I took you hostage that day?"

"No? Then it's... because you got angry because you choked on water while saving me?"

Leng Zhen said calmly, "I was prepared to die that day."

“I didn’t expect this…” He was speechless.

Leng Cuizhu already understood what he wanted to say.

Leng Zhen is a good girl, no matter how much she hates or resents her, she has to admit that.

Such is their fate; mother and son are destined to drift apart, and they will even fight tooth and nail over a worthless man, just as the dodder ate.

That's absurd.

The child is innocent.

How could she not be innocent as well?

She pulled back Leng Zhen's tightly clenched sleeve and said softly, "Go back, Mother still has things to do."

“Mom can’t always revolve around you, and Mom doesn’t want to be revolved around by you. You’re all grown up now, it’s strange for you to still cling to your elders like a child.”

"Why?" Leng Zhen's eyes suddenly went dark.

"I call you Zhenzhen because that's what your mother is used to calling you. It's not because you're still young, a naive child of six, seven, or eight years old."

She dusted off her sleeves: "So stop trying to look young, or you'll be laughed at."

"Even my mother, you're making fun of me?"

"You know that your mother has been laughed at for over ten years."

"So you're projecting those people's malice onto me again?" she turned her head and said, "Is Mother really that despicable, or are you just harboring resentment?"

Leng Zhen gritted her teeth: "Yes, of course I'm not willing."

"I am also the one who is despicable, of course I am despicable."

"Just like you said, I'm not some naive six, seven, or eight-year-old child; I'm already eighteen."

He spent his eighteenth birthday in the woodshed.

He was slapped in the woodshed, his nose bleeding profusely. Through the screen, he heard his father say that he was neither a legitimate son nor a concubine's son, but a bastard.

And what about his mother? Why did she obediently nestle in that man's arms?

Even she's going to abandon him?

wishful thinking.

A note from the author:

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