Chapter 6.2

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He furrowed his sharp, sword-like brows impatiently, wondering if he could actually be coming down with a cold. The pure-white falcon gripped the wooden windowsill tightly with its talon-like claws, tilting its head slightly as it regarded its master with intelligent, beady eyes.

Xie Zheng unfolded the letter, and as he read its contents, his expression darkened instantly. A hint of cold mockery curled at the corner of his mouth. So they couldn’t rest easy without seeing his corpse, could they? Barely any time had passed, and already someone had been sent to Huizhou to seize control of his forces—and they’d even sent that particular person.

The letter was tossed into the brazier at the corner of the bed, where it quickly turned to ash. Xie Zheng leaned back against the bed, the cold wind blowing through the open window tousling the strands of hair on his forehead but doing nothing to dispel the darkness clouding his face.

The person who’d taken over his military command in Huizhou was likely even more eager for his death than the one in the capital. At the moment, his former subordinates were barely able to protect themselves and dared not act rashly, lest that “wild dog” catch the scent and come sniffing around.

Until his injuries healed, he could only stay hidden here and plan his next move carefully. Xie Zheng glanced down at the fresh bloodstains on his robe, his expression becoming even more irritated and self-disgusted.

“Gu?” The white falcon, having waited a while without receiving further commands, tilted its head to the side, still fixing its intelligent little eyes on its master.

“Get lost.”

Xie Zheng closed his eyes in exasperation. His handsome face, now pale from his weakened state, held an unusual hint of vulnerability. The falcon, clearly accustomed to his dismissive command, seemed satisfied as it flapped its wings and flew off.

As it turned out, Xie Zheng did end up catching a cold.

Fan Changyu had spent the entire afternoon preparing what she wanted to say to him. In the evening, she even made a couple of small dishes and sliced a plate of marinated pig’s head meat to bring to him. Yet, when she called out several times from outside the attic door, there was no response from within.

Worried that something might have happened to him, Fan Changyu pushed the door open and went inside. She found him lying on the bed, his face flushed with an unnatural redness, clearly in a state of feverish drowsiness.

Quickly, she called Carpenter Zhao for help. After checking Xie Zheng’s pulse, Carpenter Zhao spent quite a while leafing through his tattered medical book before settling on the most cautious remedy for treating a cold.

In the late evening, Fan Changyu hurried to the closed pharmacy, knocking on the door until someone answered so she could get the herbs. Once back, she brewed the medicine and managed to get him to drink it. Not long after, a layer of sweat broke out on his skin.

While Carpenter Zhao was wiping down Xie Zheng and reapplying the medicine, he noticed that his wound seemed to have reopened, with the bandages stained heavily with blood—a detail that left him somewhat puzzled.

When Xie Zheng finally woke up, it was already the next morning. The fever had subsided, and his head felt clearer, though his throat burned with dryness.

To make things easier for him, the elderly couple had placed a small round stool by his bed, holding a teapot and a coarse ceramic cup.

Xie Zheng propped himself up and was about to pour himself a cup of water when the door suddenly opened. The woman entered, carrying a large bowl, and, seeing what he was about to do, said, “The tea is cold. You just broke your fever, so don’t drink it. I made you a bowl of pig lung soup.”

Carpenter Zhao had mentioned that pig lung soup could help clear heat, soothe coughs, and nourish the lungs. Since there was still some offal left from the pig she’d butchered yesterday, Fan Changyu had decided to make the soup for him.

Xie Zheng rasped a word of thanks, and, since this time the food wasn’t intestines, he took the bowl without hesitation and began drinking. But as soon as he tasted it, his expression turned strange.

Under Changyu’s watchful gaze, he silently swallowed the mouthful of soup and asked, “Did you make this?”

Fan Changyu nodded. “Yes, why?” It was, after all, her first time making this kind of troublesome pig lung soup.

Xie Zheng held the bowl but didn’t drink further, simply replying, “Nothing.” It was just… hard to believe that this pig lung soup and that excellent intestine noodle soup had been made by the same person.

Fan Changyu continued to encourage him, “Drink it while it’s hot. Uncle Zhao said pig lung soup is good for coughs and helps nourish the lungs—it’ll be good for you.”

Xie Zheng replied, “…It’s a bit hot; I’ll drink it later.”

He thought that with that remark, she would take her leave. However, she surprised him by pulling up a chair and sitting down. “I don’t think I’ve told you my name yet. My surname is Fan, given name Changyu. People in town usually just call me by my name, so you can do the same.”

Xie Zheng gave a slight nod. He’d already heard Aunt Zhao call her by name before, so he knew.

Since he wasn’t much of a conversationalist, silence quickly filled the room again. Feeling a bit awkward trying to make small talk, Fan Changyu pressed on, remembering her purpose for being here. Steeling herself, she continued, “Earlier, you said your name was Yan Zheng. Which ‘Yan’ and which ‘Zheng’ are they?”

Xie Zheng answered, “The ‘Yan’ from yan zhi you li (reasoned speech) and the ‘Zheng’ from zheng ren jun zi (a gentleman of integrity).”

Realizing that she might not be familiar with these characters, he dipped his finger into the cold tea and carefully wrote the characters “言正” on the round stool beside the bed.

Both characters were derived from parts of his real name, with slight changes to conceal his identity.

His index finger was slender, with distinct knuckles, resembling a bamboo stalk—clearly, the kind of hand well-suited to holding a brush. Yet both the pads and backs of his fingers were marked with scars, hinting at hardships he must have endured. Even using just his fingertip as a “pen,” the characters he wrote carried a natural strength and firmness, captivating Fan Changyu as she watched.

As he completed the final stroke of the character “正,” his deep, raspy voice broke the silence. “These two characters.”

She snapped out of her reverie, though her tone now held a hint of hesitation. “Were you… a scholar in the past?”

The way he wrote was extraordinary, even appearing more dignified than Song Yan’s calligraphy.

Xie Zheng replied, “Just a simple man of the military, hardly worthy of being called a scholar.”

His words seemed self-deprecating, yet carried an undertone of mocking disdain, as if he had little respect for those so-called scholars.

Relieved, Fan Changyu continued, “Then what did you do for a living before?”

Xie Zheng’s brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. He felt that she was digging quite deeply today, but considering that she had saved him and was letting him recover under her roof, it made sense for her to ask questions.

After a brief pause, he replied, “Nothing significant—just worked for a security escort agency.”

To his surprise, a look of delight appeared on her face. “Well, isn’t that something! My father also worked as an escort when he was young!”

Xie Zheng replied, “…Quite the coincidence.”

Fortunately, she didn’t press him further about his time at the agency. Instead, she clasped her hands together, looking a bit nervous, and asked him another question: “Are you… married?”

Xie Zheng studied the woman in front of him. Under his gaze, she looked somewhat embarrassed, but notably without any shyness. He couldn’t quite decipher her intent behind the question, so he simply answered truthfully, “No, I haven’t.”

Fan Changyu’s hands were nearly red from clenching them, and at last, she decided to throw caution to the wind and say it outright: “Well… I need your help with something. My family has run into some trouble. Since my parents passed away, my uncle has been intent on taking over our house and land. Yesterday, he tried to seize the deed by force, and if that doesn’t work, he’ll likely take it to the magistrate next. If it goes to court, the law will side with him, as my parents have no sons. That means the only way to keep my family’s property now is for me to find a husband as soon as possible… and have him marry into the family.”

Xie Zheng’s eyes widened, and he blinked hard. “You want me to marry into your family?”