Chapter 10: A dream in pain, a moment of tenderness?

The broken window of the servants' room could not block the cold night wind, which blew in with broken snow foam and fell on Yun Zhi's hot cheeks, causing a brief coolness, which was quickly swallowed up by the heat all over her body.

She curled up on the hard bed, covered only by a thin, three-patched quilt. The quilt was damp and hard, unable to keep out the heat. The whip wounds on her back felt like they were on fire, and every breath pulled at the wounds. The pain was so severe that a layer of cold sweat oozed from her forehead, trickling down her temples and soaking the straw mat beneath her.

Even more unbearable was the cold. She'd been exposed to too much cold water in the laundry room during the day, and the whipping from Xiao Jin had made her blood boil. Then, when she caught a cold at night, the fever surged like a tide. Her whole body burned, but her consciousness felt like cotton wool soaked in water, sinking to the surface. She could only let fragments of pain and hallucinations swirl through her mind.

One moment it was the bowl of pitch-black sterilization soup on their wedding night, the bitter taste of the medicine still lingering on her tongue; the next moment it was the biting cold when she was kneeling in the snow, the resolute back of Xiao Jin in front of the window making her heart ache; the next moment it was the fire from the wristband being thrown into the charcoal brazier, burning the wound on her fingertips, and also burning her last bit of obsession.

"It hurts..." She murmured unconsciously, her voice as thin as a mosquito. Her cracked lips moved, and even her throat hurt when she swallowed her saliva.

At this moment, there was a very light sound of footsteps outside the door, as light as snow falling on the ground. If you didn't listen carefully, you wouldn't notice it at all.

Yun Zhi's consciousness was hazy and she thought it was an illusion until the footsteps stopped in front of her bed and a faint scent of ink mixed with a cold chill drifted over - that was the usual smell of Xiao Jin, but it was lighter than usual, and there was a bit of subtle hesitation.

She tried hard to open her eyes, but her eyelids were as heavy as if they were filled with lead. She could only barely open them a crack and saw a blurry black figure standing in front of the bed. The figure was tall and straight, exactly like Xiao Jin.

Is it him? Why is he here?

Before her doubts had dissipated from her mind, she felt the figure bend down and a slightly cool hand gently rest on her forehead. The fingertips of that hand were slightly calloused, and the knuckles were distinct. The moment it touched her hot skin, she couldn't help but flinch, but she didn't feel any malice, but instead a subtle sense of caution.

"The fever is so severe..." A low voice sounded in my ears, a little hoarse, as if the volume was deliberately lowered, and it was hard to tell whether it was an illusion or reality.

Then, she felt the thin blanket being gently lifted, exposing the wound on her back to the cold air. A stinging pain came, and she couldn't help but groan. Then, a hand holding something cold gently applied it to her wound—an ointment with a refreshing minty scent. It was different from the ointment Xie Heng had given her last time, but it was just as effective in relieving the pain.

But the action of applying the medicine is not very skillful.

The ointment was applied unevenly, occasionally touching deep within the wound, causing her to shudder in pain. The hand would immediately pause, then cautiously continue after a moment, as if afraid of hurting her. His fingertips would occasionally brush against her uninjured skin, with a touch of clumsy tenderness, a stark contrast to Xiao Jin's usual coldness and hardness.

Yun Zhi's consciousness grew even more hazy. She didn't know if this was a dream or reality. If it was Xiao Jin, why would he apply the medicine to her? Didn't he hate her? He hated her for being a slave in the Imperial Tutor's mansion, hated her for being Shen Qingyue's substitute, hated her so much that he wanted to force-feed her sterilization soup, make her kneel in the snow, and whip her...

But if it wasn't him, who could it be with this dark figure, this faint scent of ink, and these clumsy movements?

"Prince...Prince..." She murmured unconsciously, her voice nasal, like a lost child looking for support.

The hand applying the medicine suddenly paused, and then she heard a very light sigh, as light as the wind blowing through the leaves, almost imperceptible. That sigh seemed to contain some complex emotions, helplessness, irritation, and a hint of heartache that he himself was not aware of.

She wanted to ask again, but her eyelids grew heavier, and her consciousness completely sank into darkness. Before she lost consciousness, she felt the slightly cool hands gently cover her with the quilt, the movements as gentle as if they were handling some fragile treasure.

…

When I woke up again, it was already daybreak.

The snow outside the window had stopped, and a faint ray of sunlight shone through the crack in the window, falling on the ground in front of the bed, casting a small patch of light. The servants' room was silent, with only the sound of the maid sweeping the floor outside, clear and real.

Yun Zhi blinked, slowly raised her hand, and touched her forehead—it wasn't burning anymore, the fever seemed to be gone. The wound on her back, while still a little painful, was much less so than yesterday. The cool feeling of the ointment still lingered on her skin, proving that the ointment she had applied last night wasn't an illusion.

She propped herself up and sat up, looking around - the servant's room was still the same, with a broken bed, a rotten table, and an old wooden box. Nothing had changed, except that at the head of her bed, there was a small white porcelain medicine bottle. There was no mark on the bottle, and there was still half a bottle of ointment left in it, the same ointment that she had applied to her wound last night.

The room was empty, there was no dark figure, no faint scent of ink, only a hint of cool ointment lingering in the air, reminding her that everything that happened last night was not a dream.

Who was it? Who gave her medicine last night?

Is it Xiao Jin?

She thought of the dark figure last night, the cool hand, the deep whisper, and the faint sigh—if it was really him, why did he do this? Was it out of guilt? Or something else?

But he obviously hated her so much, hated her so much that he didn't even give her a chance to explain, hated her so much that he could whip her back... Why would he suddenly come to apply medicine to her?

Or is it Xie Heng?

Xie Heng was the Imperial Hospital Director, so it was normal for him to have such ointment. He had always cared for her, secretly sending her medicine for her injuries, and he might have visited her at night. But the silhouette of that figure last night was clearly taller than Xie Heng's, and the scent on him wasn't Xie Heng's usual medicinal fragrance, but a cold, ink-like scent...

Yun Zhi picked up the medicine bottle from the bedside table, her fingertips gently stroking the smooth bottle, her heart filled with doubt. She poured a little ointment onto her fingertips, and the refreshing minty scent immediately spread. It was unlike any ointment she had used before, neither the one Xie Heng had given her nor the crude medicine made in the laundry room.

She suddenly remembered that the last time she went to the study to deliver the wristband, she saw an identical white porcelain medicine bottle on Xiao Jin's desk. She didn't pay much attention to it at the time, but now she thought that the bottle and the one in her hand were simply carved from the same mold.

Could it be... really Xiao Jin?

As soon as this thought came to her mind, she suppressed it forcefully.

Impossible. How could Xiao Jin be so kind to her if he hated her so much? She must have been delirious from the fever, hallucinating and mistaking Xie Heng for Xiao Jin. Or was it someone else? Like... a kind maid?

But the maids were so afraid of her as a "criminal slave" that they didn't even have time to hide, so how could they secretly come to apply medicine to her?

Yun Zhi looked at the medicine bottle in her hand, her brows tightly furrowed. Her heart felt like a tangled mess, and she couldn't make sense of it.

She remembered the very light sigh when she unconsciously called out "Prince" last night, the clumsy but careful action of applying the medicine, and the touch of the slightly cool hand on her forehead... Her heart seemed to be gently bumped by something, and a faint ripple appeared, but it was quickly covered by the previous pain.

So what if it really is Xiao Jin?

When he fed her the sterilizing soup, why didn't he think about the pain she would feel? When he punished her by making her kneel in the snow, why didn't he think about the freezing cold? When he whipped her, why didn't he think about the blood she would bleed?

It was just an accidental application of medicine. Could it offset all the damage he had suffered before?

cannot.

Yun Zhi took a deep breath and carefully placed the medicine bottle in her arms. No matter who gave it to her, this ointment could heal her wounds, and she needed it. As for who it was last night, perhaps it no longer mattered.

The important thing is that she must live well, heal her wounds, and wait for the opportunity to avenge the Taifu Mansion and seek justice for herself.

She leaned against the cold wall, looking at the sunlight outside the window. The confusion in her eyes gradually faded, and she became determined again. Only occasionally did she think of that dark figure last night, and that faint sigh, and a vague feeling would still rise in her heart, like a seed buried deep in her heart, and she didn't know when it would sprout, nor what it would grow into.

Outside the servants' room, the maids sweeping the floor were still whispering to each other, and occasionally a few chuckles could be heard, but it no longer affected her mood. She held the medicine bottle in her arms, and her fingertips felt the coolness of the ointment, as well as a faint sense of strength. No matter who had given her this gentleness last night, she would keep it in her heart, as the faint light that supported her to move forward.

But does that tenderness come from the prince who hates her, or from Brother Xie who cares about her?

This question, like a fine needle, gently pierced her heart, causing her to always think about it, guess, and... have a little expectation that she shouldn't have in the days that followed.