Chapter 9.1

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Fan Changyu, clutching two thick blankets, had barely walked out of the bridal chamber when she sensed something was off. Looking up, she caught sight of two large, dark shadows quickly ducking down below the courtyard wall.

Fan Changyu: “…”

No one but Fan Da and his wife could be so familiar, even if they turned to dust, she’d still recognize them.

Apparently, they’d heard about her taking in a live-in husband and, fearing she’d just hired some random outsider to put on a show and deceive them, decided to forgo sleep in the middle of the night to scale her walls and eavesdrop!

At this moment, just outside the Fan family courtyard, Fan Da and his burly wife, Liu Shi, each perched on a wooden ladder, their heads just below the top of the wall as they whispered to each other.

“I told you that girl probably just found some random guy to fake being her husband! Look at them, already sleeping in separate rooms on their wedding night! What are you getting all worked up for?” Liu Shi scolded her husband in a low voice.

Fan Da, envisioning the possibility of reclaiming the family property, couldn’t hide his excitement. “Let’s keep watching! Just a bit longer!”

As the two suspiciously poked half their heads over the wall again, they saw Fan Changyu emerge from the adjoining room where she had left the blankets. She then went to the kitchen, fetched a basin of water, and returned to the bridal chamber, making it seem as though she had only stepped into the other room momentarily to put down the extra bedding.

Fan Da and his wife exchanged puzzled glances.

Could they have been mistaken?

Fan Changyu entered the bridal chamber again, this time carrying a basin of hot water, and was immediately met with an icy, piercing gaze from Xie Zheng, who was sitting shirtless at the table. She gave a slight, awkward nod toward the courtyard, half-embarrassed, half-resigned, and explained, “My uncle and aunt are outside eavesdropping. They think I just found someone random to fake a marriage to fool them.”

Xie Zheng withdrew his gaze and leaned back over the round table. Having just applied medicine to his wounds, the searing pain radiated from his torn flesh, spreading along his nerves and leaving him drenched in cold sweat from his forehead to his shoulders and back. Right now, he was focusing every ounce of his energy on bearing the agony and had no interest in whether Fan Changyu stayed or left.

His shoulders were taut, his damp, unruly hair clinging messily to his forehead, and beads of sweat hung heavily from his brow. His teeth were clenched, resembling a wild wolf, beaten yet unyielding, refusing to be tamed.

This was the first time Fan Changyu had seen the full extent of his injuries. Without the bandages, his skin was marred with raw, exposed wounds, some already scabbed over, others still ragged and bloody. In addition to these fresh injuries, faint traces of old scars were also visible across his body.

Fan Changyu couldn’t help but think of her father, who also bore similar old scars. It seemed that escort work was truly a life-risking profession. Setting down the basin of water, she walked over and asked with a furrowed brow, “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Without lifting his head, Xie Zheng held up a small bottle, his pale fingers extending it backward. “Pour the remaining powder on the wounds across my back.”

Always cautious, he had long since transferred the rare medicine brought by the falcon into a common bottle he’d purchased from an old apothecary.

Taking the bottle, Fan Changyu did as he instructed. Almost immediately, his shoulder and back muscles tensed, hard as stone. The pain was evidently overwhelming, and he turned his head, biting down on the clothes he’d left on the table to muffle any sound.

She frowned, noting that his reaction seemed more intense than the last time he’d applied medicine. Perhaps the day’s events had worn him out, and she felt a pang of guilt.

Her gaze fell to the blood- and sweat-stained bandages on the floor, and she went to the cabinet, taking out a roll of plain silk to replace them.

This was fabric leftover from her parents’ funeral, meant for mourning clothes. She cut it into long strips, preparing it for bandaging him up.

After a moment, Xie Zheng’s taut muscles relaxed slightly. He spat out the cloth he had been biting on and slowly lifted his gaze toward Fan Changyu.

“Feeling better?” she asked, putting down the scissors.

Xie Zheng had always been wary of others seeing him in such a vulnerable state, feeling like a stray dog, weak and defenseless. Yet, this woman had already seen him at his lowest. The instinct to shut people out stirred within him again, and he responded with a brief, cool word of thanks.

Fan Changyu glanced at his wounds but brushed off his coldness, understanding that he was probably just in a foul mood from the pain.

He reached for his clothes on the table, intending to pull them on. The feeling of blood and sweat sticking to his back was uncomfortable, but his sense of propriety wouldn’t allow him to sit bare-chested in front of her.

Seeing this, Fan Changyu quickly stopped him. “You’re covered in sweat and blood. Clean up first. I’ll find a set of my father’s clothes for you.”

Fortunately, the basin of water she had brought in earlier came in handy, as she’d originally intended for him to wash up. Xie Zheng managed to clean his front on his own, but for his back, he needed Fan Changyu’s help. Her touch was far more meticulous than the hasty wipes he’d managed himself. She carefully wrung out the cloth and gently wiped away the blood and the dark remnants of the medicinal paste, taking care to avoid his wounds.

Occasionally, her knuckles brushed against his back. Her touch wasn’t particularly soft, yet it was distinct from the calloused feel of his own hands, and somehow, the sensation spread through him like a faint electric current.

The unfamiliar tingling itch made Xie Zheng frown instinctively.

Seeing his reaction, Fan Changyu paused. “Did I touch a wound?”

He pressed his lips together, his expression growing colder. “No.”

After finishing with his back, the water in the basin had turned murky from the blood and medicine residue. Fan Changyu picked up the strips of fabric she had cut and began bandaging him. This time, her fingertips inevitably brushed across more of his skin. Perhaps due to the fresh medicine and the sweat, his body radiated a heat unlike any she had felt from him before.

Fan Changyu stood while Xie Zheng sat, and each time she leaned down to wrap the cloth, her long hair brushed lightly across his shoulder and neck—a sensation that was soft, ticklish, and slightly electric. Xie Zheng’s brow knitted into a tight frown as he shifted subtly to the side, trying to avoid the tingling feeling.

“All done.” Fan Changyu, unaware of his discomfort, straightened up after tying the bandage. After all that work, a thin sheen of sweat had gathered on her own forehead.

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