Chapter 135 The Fool's Bride for Good Luck (10)

Zhao Wenhong laughed and said, "I fell by accident. The roads abroad aren't easy to travel either."

"Oh." Xie Rong didn't take it to heart and obediently waited for him to finish taking her pulse.

“Although it’s hot, Madam shouldn’t be too fond of cooling off, or she’ll get heatstroke,” Zhao Wenhong said seriously. “I’ll go back to the pharmacy later and get two doses of medicine. Drink them today and you’ll be fine tomorrow.”

"You went abroad to study, why are you still back to run your father's traditional Chinese medicine shop?" Xie Rong reached out and lifted the pocket watch on his chest to take a look. "Aren't you going to be your foreign doctor anymore?"

“The country is in chaos. I’m not a foreigner, so even if I wanted to be a foreign doctor, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be well-liked,” Zhao Wenhong said with a helpless smile, her face showing a magnanimous expression as she gently traced Xie Rong’s face with her gaze. “It feels like you’ve grown up so much in the blink of an eye. But you have to be restrained in everything you do. Being too indulgent will only harm your health.”

Xie Rong withdrew his hand, glared at him coldly, and the words of cursing were on the tip of his tongue when he suddenly reached under the table, grabbed the man's ear, and pulled him out.

"Wife, I'm in pain," Lu Chuan said, tilting his head.

"Didn't I say you're not allowed to stay in my room during the day?" Xie Rong pinched his ear hard, just like the vicious woman in the story who abused the protagonist.

"I want my wife to play with me," Lu Chuan said in a muffled voice.

"Didn't I buy you toys a few days ago?" Xie Rong wasn't going to take care of him sincerely. He had no interest in being a mother, so he just gave him toys meant for three-year-olds. If Lu Chuan was willing to be taken care of, he was truly foolish; if he wasn't, he was just being ungrateful. "Go play in the yard by yourself."

Seeing the way the two were getting along, and recalling the pulse diagnosis she had just made, Zhao Wenhong's expression became complicated and difficult to describe.

He came to the Lu residence for a follow-up consultation the next day, still in the same room.

The silly young master in the house had been sent to the yard to climb trees and catch cicadas. Xie Rong leaned against the chaise lounge, and a strong and handsome servant was kneeling beside him, diligently massaging his legs.

"Madam, is this force alright?"

"Madam is thirsty, would you like some tea?"

"..."

Zhao Wenhong came in and took his pulse again. "It seems you're afraid of bitter medicine again. You didn't finish the medicine I prescribed yesterday."

Xie Rong rested his chin on his hand and said lazily, "Then my body is all better today, isn't it?"

“You,” Zhao Wenhong shook her head.

Xie Rong lifted her eyelids and silently sized up the man sitting at the table writing a prescription.

"Why are you looking at me?" Zhao Wenhong seemed to have eyes in her head.

“Zhao Tongguang and Zhao Wenhong,” Xie Rong said with a deep look in his eyes, “both Guang and Hong sound like brothers.”

“Your steward Zhao is indeed a capable man; who in Lizhou doesn’t know that?” Zhao Wenhong’s smile remained unchanged. “I wouldn’t dare to presume to be his friend.”

"He's just a servant, he's not exactly climbing the social ladder," Xie Rong scoffed.

“These days, the term ‘lackey’ isn’t fashionable anymore,” Zhao Wenhong said as she wrote the prescription. “In other countries, everyone is equal.”

"I noticed you look tired, so I specially prescribed a calming medicine. Drink it tonight before you go to sleep," Zhao Wenhong said, folding the prescription and placing it on the table with the teacup Xie Rong had used.

Xie Rong responded with a faint sound.

"Xie Rong."

Xie Rong opened his eyes and looked at him again, "Speak if you have something to say."

“Now that you are Mrs. Lu, being too close to other people is not good for your reputation,” Zhao Wenhong said, stopping short of saying anything more.

Lizhou is an ancient city with a history of thousands of years. Some old customs are deeply rooted. Xie Rong's actions may attract attention and be used as a tool by others.

Xie Rong raised his foot and gently kicked the servant's shoulder. "You're done here. Go downstairs."

The servant glared at Zhao Wenhong resentfully and reluctantly withdrew.

“Dr. Zhao,” Xie Rong beckoned to him. As the man approached, Xie Rong grabbed his suit tie and yanked it down, her eyes gleaming with venomous resentment. “It seems you can’t quite understand the unbearable loneliness of marrying into a wealthy family. I’m dealing with a fool all day long. Should I seek comfort from the servants instead of you?”

"..." Zhao Wenhong's breath hitched.

"You're a doctor. Now that you've asked, you won't just abandon me because of this illness, will you?" Xie Rong wrapped one arm around the man's neck like a water snake, a malicious smirk playing on her lips.

Zhao Wenhong, carrying his medicine box, hurriedly fled the Lu residence, as if a female ghost had haunted the house, forcing him to run away in panic.

...

Zhao Wenhong hadn't slept all night and was getting medicine at the shop when she overheard the customers talking.

"I heard there's been another death at the Lu residence!"

"That's right. This morning, Old Man Lin, who sells tofu, was carrying his carrying pole when he passed by the gate of the Lu residence and saw a severed hand rolling out of the gate."

"Good heavens! Both of his hands have been chopped off. The first servant said it was an accidental fall into the water, but this one... we can't say he chopped his own hands off too, can we?"

"It's only been less than two months since Old Master Lu passed away, and two people have already died... Could it be that Old Master Lu never actually left?"

"I heard that all the dead were good-looking and strong young men! You know, Mrs. Lu married a fool at such a young age, her life must be very hard. Could it be that Old Master Lu was afraid that his foolish son's wife would run away, so he specially showed up to him?"

"Stop talking, it's creepy."

Zhao Wenhong neatly wrapped the medicine packet in her hand and handed it to the customer, then picked up her medicine box and walked out of the pharmacy.

...

When Zhao Wenhong arrived at the Lu residence, police officers were coming out, with an exceptionally slender figure following behind.

Xie Rong leaned against the door, yawned, and watched the police officers leave.

Zhao Wenhong had a sudden inspiration and stepped forward to ask, "Was the servant who massaged your legs yesterday the one who died?"

Xie Rong tilted his head and gave him a smile: "Yes."

"Dr. Zhao, you don't know how pitiful his death was. It scared me so much that I can't eat anything today. You have to prescribe another medicine for me." Xie Rong turned and walked into the house.

Zhao Wenhong silently followed.

That night, Xie Rong had a nightmare.

In his dream, the dead servants took turns pressing down on him, resentfully questioning him why he had seduced them and that he was the one who had killed them.

Xie Rong was suffocating under the pressure, covered in sweat. In a daze, he thought he had returned to that secret realm, lost all his cultivation, and was lying in a pool of blood, his clothes being torn and his soul being ripped apart by evil spirits. All he could hear was the excited and sharp laughter of the evil spirits.

He suddenly woke up, pulled out the dagger from under his pillow, got out of bed in the dark, and wildly swung it around in the pitch-black room, uttering angry curses that even he couldn't hear, his heart full of hatred unable to be vented.

The fool went up to touch him, but was slashed on the arm and slapped away.

Die! All of you, die!

Hearing the commotion, the servants on night watch outside quickly opened the door, turned on the lights, and were all stunned.

Their usually shrewish wife was now sitting barefoot on the floor in a silk nightgown, her thick, dark hair, which she had never cut, cascading down her back. Her eyes were bloodshot with hatred, and her slender white fingers gripped a bloodstained dagger as she coldly stared at them.

So fierce, yet so pitiful.