The Zhou family didn’t receive the news until evening. When Zhou Liu-lang failed to return, Madam Zhou sent someone to inquire and learned he had gone to Tai Ping Residence.
Tai Ping Residence was that girl’s property, and Madam Zhou couldn’t shake her unease. She dispatched servants to check on him—and with that, Zhou Liu-lang’s secret could no longer be kept.
Madam Zhou nearly fainted.
“Again… another one dead…” she cried, her voice trembling as she clutched Master Zhou’s sleeve, her face deathly pale. “What kind of monster is she…? Could she be feeding on human lives…?”
Master Zhou angrily shook her off.
“Enough nonsense! She’s treating an illness!” he snapped in a low voice.
“Since when does treatment look like this?!” Madam Zhou shivered uncontrollably, tears streaming down her face. “My lord, my lord, we must flee—let’s return to Shan-zhou at once…”
Then, remembering Zhou Liu-lang, she broke into loud sobs.
“My son is still in her clutches…!”
Furious and helpless, Master Zhou ordered the maids to watch over her while he called for a carriage and hurried toward Tai Ping Residence outside the city.
The people in Tai Ping Residence spent a sleepless night.
When dawn broke, the door finally opened.
Xu Maoxiu, who had been keeping watch by the door, was the first to jump up, followed closely by Young Master Zhou.
“I—I’ll go prepare the vegetables,” stammered Li Dashao timidly.
During the chaos the day before, everyone present had been confined to the courtyard, and Li Dashao was no exception. It was for their own good—otherwise, they would have surely been dragged away for questioning.
Hearing the commotion, the others inside rushed out as well. Leading the pack was Madam Qin, her face pale and her eyes swollen—none of her usual noble composure remained.
“Ban Qin told us to open the door,” Li Dashao said. Though slow-witted, he knew well enough to make himself scarce at a time like this. Without waiting for Madam Qin to approach, he scurried away like a wisp of smoke.
Madam Qin charged forward, ready to rush inside—only for someone else to squeeze through the doorway.
“We’ve got tofu deliveries today,” Sun Cai said with an awkward nod. “The cart—could someone bring it over, please?”
Delivering tofu?
At a time like this?
“You were still making tofu last night?” someone blurted out reflexively.
“Yeah, soaked beans can’t be left sitting…” Sun Cai replied.
Before he could finish, Madam Qin shoved him aside with a slap.
“Shi’san!” she wailed, bursting into tears as she tried to force her way inside.
Xu Maoxiu and Zhou Liu-lang naturally rushed to stop her, while Sun Cai stood frozen, unsure whether to retreat or press forward. The doorway dissolved into chaos.
“Come in, all of you. Take him away—Miss has cured him.”
The maid’s voice rang out across the courtyard.
The crowd at the door froze for a moment before Madam Qin broke free and rushed inside, followed by a flood of others.
The hall doors stood wide open, revealing the motionless form of Young Master Qin lying within.
“Shi’san!”
The Qin couple hurried forward, dropping to their knees beside him with loud sobs, while Qin An immediately pressed his fingers to the unconscious man’s nose and mouth.
A warm breath brushed against his fingertips, and he slumped back in exhausted relief.
“Alive… he’s alive,” he murmured hoarsely.
Zhou Liu-lang, the third to enter, felt his legs buckle at the words. He caught himself against the doorframe, gripping it tightly.
Alive. Alive…
“Take him back now. Here’s the medicine—it must be taken every four hours,” the maid said.
Before she could finish, Madam Qin sprang to her feet.
“That vile wench—where is she? Where is she?” she shrieked through tears. “Come out! Come out!”
The maid met her gaze without the slightest fear.
“My mistress exhausted herself saving your son and has retired to rest. If you wish to express gratitude, you may do so another day,” she replied coolly.
Gratitude? After that witch first killed my son, then brought him back—and now we should thank her?
Madam Qin trembled with rage.
Thank her? Thank her?!
As if!
“Shi’san’s condition comes first!” Qin An shouted.
Xu Maoxiu and the others who had followed inside quickly moved to shield the maid, eyeing Madam Qin warily.
Madam Qin’s gaze swept over each of them in turn.
“None of you—not a single one—will escape this!” she hissed through clenched teeth, then flung her sleeves as she knelt back down beside Young Master Qin, stroking his face as she burst into loud sobs.
The tense atmosphere in the courtyard dissipated only after the Qin family’s carriage departed.
“What exactly happened?” Madam Chen asked the maid urgently.
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” the maid replied. “It was all agreed beforehand—he was the one who asked Miss to treat him.”
But then why did they say she’d angered him to death?
As Madam Chen opened her mouth to press further, Chen Shao stopped her.
“Don’t interrogate them—they’re exhausted. Let them rest,” he said, then turned to the maid and Xu Maoxiu. “Tell your mistress to recover in peace.”
The maid and Xu Maoxiu hurriedly bowed in gratitude.
Chen Shao then turned to leave. Though reluctant, Madam Chen had no choice but to sigh and follow.
The courtyard grew quieter still.
Master Zhou stood in the room, his gaze shifting between Xu Maoxiu and the maid.
“Did she… lay hands on him?” he suddenly asked.
The question took everyone aback. After a moment, the maid smiled.
“No,” she replied. “My mistress merely spoke a few words, that’s all.”
A few words—enough to make a man die of rage?
Master Zhou’s expression turned skeptical, yet an unsettling thought crept into his mind.
Hadn’t Secretariat Editor Liu also met his end inexplicably after…
He swallowed hard.
“No physical altercation—that’s good,” he said hoarsely. “In matters of verbal dispute, if harm comes, one can only blame their own narrow temperament.”
If this were brought to court, they would have to cling to that argument.
Yet even if they won the lawsuit, this affair would hardly conclude peacefully…
“Rest assured—nothing will go wrong,” the maid said.
Rest assured? As if he had any choice!
From the moment they brought that girl into the capital, their fates had been tied together like grasshoppers on a single string!
No—truth be told, ever since the day she was born, the Zhou family had been bound to her, with no hope of escape!
Such was their destiny! Resistance was futile!
Master Zhou exhaled heavily, waved his hand without a word, and slowly walked away.
The maid yawned.
“Third Young Master, I’ll retire as well,” she said.
Xu Maoxiu nodded.
“Go ahead. I’ll keep watch here,” he replied.
As the courtyard emptied, Zhou Liu-lang remained standing beneath the eaves, motionless as a stone statue.
Night fell once more. All was silent.
In the Qin residence, lantern flames flickered.
A sharp click pierced the quiet room—unnaturally loud in the stillness.
A maid hurried to retrieve the fallen object, then glanced nervously at Madam Qin, who had finally closed her eyes in the armchair.
“Quickly, quickly,” she whispered, gesturing urgently.
Four sturdy servants lifted the chair with painstaking care, carrying it toward the inner chamber.
The maid slipped past the curtains to where Qin An knelt by the sickbed, his gaze fixed on his son.
“Master, the sedative has taken effect—her ladyship sleeps at last,” she murmured.
Qin An gave a stiff nod.
“Master, you must rest too,” the servant pleaded softly. “You’ve kept vigil a full day and night—this cannot continue.”
He remained motionless, silent.
“The doctors have examined Thirteenth Young Master—all is well. Please set your heart at ease,” she added.
At last, Qin An rose. Perhaps from prolonged kneeling, he staggered—the servant darted forward to steady him.
Straightening, he walked slowly toward the door.
“Master,” the maid called out suddenly, as if remembering something.
Qin An paused.
“This… medicine. Should we still give it to Thirteenth Young Master?” she asked in a hushed voice.
The medicine?
Qin An turned to look at the porcelain vial placed on the side table.
This was what that woman had prescribed. The servant had dutifully noted it down and even consulted the doctors. Though the doctors couldn’t identify its ingredients through taste, they hadn’t dared to make a decision. He had already taken it twice—should they continue?
Qin An was silent for a long moment.
“Give it to him,” he said at last, then turned and walked out.
Young Master Qin felt as though he were dreaming—though this dream felt more exhausting than usual.
He instinctively stretched, then looked up at the grayish canopy above him. Turning his head, he saw his servant asleep on the floor, just like always.
He smiled and reached out—then suddenly, the smile vanished. He sat up abruptly.
There was no crutch by the bed.
Where was his crutch?
A pang of panic shot through him.
But soon, he calmed down again.
It’s just a dream, he told himself. In dreams, I can do as I please. Truth be told, he rather enjoyed dreaming, because only in dreams could he sometimes walk freely—without relying on a crutch.
Of course, he rarely allowed himself even this much freedom. He had trained himself to face reality head-on, refusing to escape even in sleep.
But surely, just this once, he could indulge a little.
Young Master Qin sat up and looked down at his legs.
Beneath the pale blue sleep trousers, they appeared no different from any ordinary person’s—yet whenever he tried to stand, they stubbornly refused to straighten…
With a sigh, he let his feet dangle over the edge of the bed and gently lifted the hem of his pants.
His expression froze in stunned disbelief.
The twisted legs he had always hidden in shame now looked completely normal.
It must be because I’m dreaming…
After a moment’s hesitation, he placed his feet firmly on the ground, clenched his teeth, and pushed himself up with all his strength—and to his shock, he stood.
He stood!
Then he collapsed back onto the bed, his heart pounding wildly, a cold sweat breaking across his forehead. For a long time, he didn’t move at all.
The room was utterly still, save for the occasional sleep mumbles from the servant sprawled at his feet.
To think I’d be so frightened by a mere dream…
Young Master Qin chuckled softly. Pressing his hands against the bed, he rose—standing perfectly steady for a long moment—then slowly, deliberately took his first step.
The sensation of both feet meeting the floor…
He took another step. Then, with barely contained exhilaration, he even gave a little hop, clearing over his obliviously sleeping servant.
His bare feet made no sound on the wooden planks.
A quiet smile curved his lips as he glanced at the still-sleeping boy, then moved toward the door.
The outer chamber revealed two maids dozing as well.
But no matter how many slept here—it didn’t matter now. He could walk. Could move on his own two legs. Could slip out undetected, just as Zhou Liu-lang had described. Just as every normal young man had done at least once.
The young man, his hair loose and wearing only underrobe, stepped lightly into the misty dawn.
A scream shattered the courtyard’s peace.
Madam Qin came stumbling forward, her legs so weak she could barely walk.
Shi’san, Shi’san, Shi’san—
“Madam, the young master is gone!”
The shouts of servants cut through her sobs.
Madam Qin froze, blinking through tears at the empty bed.
No cold corpse lay there—just vacant space.
Gone?
How could he be gone? Had someone somehow slipped into their heavily guarded manor to steal him?
Impossible!
There was only one explanation: he had walked out on his own.
“Where is his crutch?” Madam Qin demanded.
The servant scrambled in a fluster before finally retrieving it from behind a side table. In yesterday’s chaos, with the young master unconscious, no one had thought he would need it—so it had been carelessly tossed aside.
“He… didn’t use the crutch?”
Qin An’s voice came from the doorway.
Everyone turned to look. His expression was at first dazed, then gradually flushed, his whole body beginning to tremble.
“Master—” Madam Qin called out urgently.
But before she could finish, Qin An spun around and rushed outside.
“He didn’t use the crutch!” he shouted, his voice shaking.
He didn’t use the crutch…
He didn’t use the crutch!
“Shi’san!”
Shouts pierced the morning quiet, startling maids sweeping the courtyard into pausing their work.
Yesterday, the young master had been carried back unconscious—could it be…?
Qin An hurried forward, calling loudly. His son often frequented not the gardens, but the small training ground at the rear of the estate, much like the Zhou family’s.
And sure enough, as he approached, a figure stood there.
“Shi’san!” he cried—then suddenly found he could move no further, rooted to the spot as he stared.
The figure turned and smiled at him.
“Father, what brings you here?” he said, stepping forward.
Stepping. Walking.
Qin An felt his breath catch, his body rigid as stone. One exhale, one motion, and this vision might dissolve like foam.
“So it’s true… ‘In spring and autumn arrives utmost loyalty; Wen Zhi’s death, in spring and autumn utmost loyalty…'” he murmured repetitively, the ancient medical parable spilling from his lips like an incantation.
“Shi’san!”
Madam Qin’s tearful cry rang out as she rushed past her husband like a woman possessed.
“Shi’san! My son!” She clutched her son, her face streaked with tears. “You can walk? You can really walk? Your legs… they’re healed?”
Young Master Qin staggered slightly under his mother’s shaking embrace.
“My fault entirely—to think I’d make Mother lose her composure even in a dream,” he said with a laugh, patting her back reassuringly. “Yes, yes, I can walk now.”
Madam Qin stared at him, then seized his hands and wept uncontrollably.
Tears fell onto his skin—warm.
Warm…
Young Master Qin looked down at his hands in sudden bewilderment.
“This… isn’t a dream?” he murmured.
More people came running—his brothers and sisters.
“Heavens! Good heavens! Young Master! Young Master can walk!”
Their chaotic shouts filled the air.
Young Master Qin stared blankly, his ears buzzing—the cacophony around him seeming both deafening and distant at once.
Not a dream?
…Not a dream?
He jerked his head down to look at his legs—his own two legs, standing firmly on the ground.
Not a dream…
Darkness flooded his vision as he collapsed backward.
A scream once again tore through the Qin household.
