A Quiet Homecoming

Finally, the young woman flopped backward, letting her upper body sink into the soft bolster behind her. She decided she might as well give up for now.

Then she reached toward the inner side of the canopy bed and, after a bit of rummaging, pulled out a thin storybook from under the mattress. The yellowish-brown cover bore a picture of two jade hairpins crossed over each other, and on the right side, three bold black characters were arranged vertically from top to bottom: *The Tale of Twin Hairpins*.

The story was about a true and a false daughter swapped at birth. The real young lady, raised outside the family, had suffered endless hardships and, after much trouble, finally tracked down her birth mother in the capital—the wife of a duke. But because she couldn't measure up to the fake daughter in every way, she was neglected and even tormented...

When the true daughter risked her life to save the duchess, only to have the fake daughter steal the credit, Chen Yao tugged at her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. Her nose, already red from the cold she'd caught, was so stuffed up that she could hardly breathe.

System 04: "..."

Yet Chen Yao didn't even notice its speechlessness. Still in her mind, she sighed repeatedly. "Ah, the heroine is so pitiful. After all, she's the duchess's own flesh and blood—carried for ten months. Why won't the duchess trust her? And instead, she keeps favoring the malicious fake daughter?"

System 04 was utterly baffled. "You're the vicious supporting female lead. Shouldn't you be empathizing with the fake daughter? This is a classic revenge story, isn't it?"

Chen Yao's wiping motion paused.

"You morally bankrupt system," she ranted at System 04 in her head. "I'm only playing the vicious supporting role according to the script. At heart, I'm still a righteous person. Of course I can tell right from wrong."

"Fine, fine. Though the vicious supporting female lead does all sorts of bad things, you're still a good girl at heart," System 04 teased.

"I can tell you're being sarcastic with me!"

Chen Yao puffed up her cheeks, instinctively wanting to put her hands on her hips and argue back. But she was still running a slight fever, and when she lifted her arm, it felt too heavy. The momentum she'd just mustered fizzled out.

*

Meanwhile, in the palace, Xiao Mingting had just received word from his secret guard stationed outside the Shen residence that Xie Chenyao had caught a cold.

He immediately set aside the memorial he was reading, and moving with swift lightness, hurried to the Shen residence.

The outer wall of the Shen estate was no obstacle to him. With a single lift of his breath, he vaulted over it with ease.

Then, using the shadows in the corner of the back courtyard for cover, he deftly avoided the already sparse servants of the household and quickly made his way to the room where Xie Chenyao was staying.

He pressed his palm gently against the door panel, sliding it open just a crack, then slipped inside without a sound.

Raising his eyes to the bed, he saw the young woman dressed only in a plain inner garment, leaning weakly and quietly against the headboard.

She was reading a book, head slightly bowed, her long black hair loose and tumbling down, revealing a stretch of snow-white neck beneath her collar—slender and graceful, as if carved from the finest suet jade.

"You're sick. Why aren't you lying down?" Xiao Mingting knitted his brows and spoke in a flat tone.

The room's peaceful silence shattered in an instant.

Chen Yao was so startled that she couldn't keep hold of the book in her hand, and it fell with a soft "thud" straight onto the floor.

Wide-eyed, she instinctively turned her head toward the doorway.

When she saw Xiao Mingting's figure suddenly in the room, like a ghost, her heart jumped with alarm, and her breath hitched for a beat.

"I thought you got sick on purpose because you knew the male lead would definitely come," System 04 said, scratching its cybernetic head, puzzled, after seeing its host's reaction wasn't an act.

"I did guess Xiao Mingting would come," Chen Yao rolled her eyes internally, her tone full of exasperation. "But I expected him to come up with a proper excuse, pay a call in broad daylight, and then pretend to be surprised I was sick. Who could've guessed he'd be this brazen, just barging in during the day?"

But to Xiao Mingting, her pale little face still looked utterly shaken, her eyes fixed on him as if they couldn't move.

A moment later, clutching the quilt in front of her, she instinctively shrank back and spoke hesitantly, "You—"

"Don't worry, no one saw me," Xiao Mingting said calmly.

He knew exactly what she was worried about. Walking forward, he bent slightly and picked up the book that had fallen at the bedside.

It looked like a cheap storybook from the streets. He glanced briefly at the crude pages, paid it no further mind, and handed it back.

Chen Yao lowered her eyelids and silently reached out to take the storybook from his hand.

But as she withdrew her hand, her rounded fingertip accidentally brushed against the man's palm. Her long lashes fluttered rapidly, and she hastily snatched her little hand back.

Biting her lower lip, she stole a glance at his expression, then quickly lowered her gaze again. She was flustered, at a loss for what to say.

The atmosphere in the room turned subtly strange.

"How did you suddenly fall ill?" It was Xiao Mingting, more concerned about her health, who finally broke the silence.

He had some vague suspicions, of course. After all, in the changing room last night, the sight of her had been so... tantalizing...

If she'd caught a chill then, it would make sense, and it would be his fault. He sighed inwardly and stepped closer, then sat down on the edge of the bed. Leaning over, he gently gathered the young woman wrapped in her brocade quilt into his arms, bundling her up along with the covers.

Chen Yao's little face tensed, and she instinctively struggled in his embrace.

But not only was she sick and weak, she was also pinned tightly against his chest, wrapped up like a silkworm cocoon—she couldn't break free in the slightest.

As she caught the familiar scent of ambergris on the man, mixed with a faint trace of ink and fragrance, Chen Yao felt an inexplicable wave of grievance wash over her.

Lowering her pretty brows, she pouted slightly and answered truthfully in a small voice, "The physician said my mind is troubled, and on top of that, I caught a chill. That's why I fell ill."

"Why is your mind troubled?" Xiao Mingting seized on the key point.

As he spoke, he leaned down and pressed his forehead gently against hers, indeed feeling the slight fever.

Asked so bluntly, Chen Yao was momentarily at a loss for words. She pressed her lips together and stayed silent for a long while.

Xiao Mingting lifted his head, slowly pulling his forehead away from hers.

"Hm?" His deep gaze fixed on her, and a low, rising tone escaped his throat.

Then he leaned in again, his thin lips—slightly cool—brushing gently against her forehead like a substitute kiss, planting a soft, tender one there.

Chen Yao's small body trembled slightly. She averted her gaze, and her snow-white cheeks quickly flushed with red, as if rouged.

Xiao Mingting curved his lips, his gaze warm as he looked at the young woman in his arms, unconcerned that she hadn't answered.

But out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the bedside table beside the bed—a bowl of dark brown medicinal broth was steaming there.

He frowned disapprovingly. "Why haven't you taken your medicine yet?"

Of course, Chen Yao didn't dare admit that she found the medicine too bitter and had planned to secretly pour it out later. So she made an excuse. "The medicine was a little hot. I thought I'd let it cool down a bit before drinking it."

Xiao Mingting turned slightly, keeping one arm firmly around the young woman in his arms, and used his free hand to pick up the medicine bowl.

Feeling the heat of the broth against his palm, he looked at her sickly state and said in a tone that brooked no argument, "It's cooled down enough already. If we wait any longer, the medicine will lose its effect. Be good. I'll feed you."

Chen Yao: "..."

Looking at the man who was clearly preparing to feed her the dark medicinal soup spoonful by spoonful, she suspected he might be trying to torture her to death with bitterness.

Left with no choice—she truly didn't want to endure that slow torment—she shook her head vigorously. "No need to trouble yourself. I can do it myself."

She struggled to poke one small hand out of the brocade quilt, reaching for the medicine bowl in his hand, but Xiao Mingting deliberately raised it out of her reach.

He repeated flatly, "I'll feed you."

Perhaps because she was sick, the usually gentle young woman developed a rare touch of temper.

Chen Yao's lips curved downward, and her voice came out both aggrieved and stubborn. "I want to drink it myself."

Xiao Mingting narrowed his eyes when he saw her still avoiding him like that. A dark glint flashed quickly through his deep black eyes.

Without warning, right in front of her, he put the spoon back onto the bedside table, took up the medicine bowl, and tilted his head back to take a big mouthful.

Before Chen Yao could react, she felt his hand gently gripping her chin, and then his thin lips, carrying the taste of medicine, pressed against her mouth with authority.

The next second, his tongue skillfully pried open her teeth and slowly fed the mouthful of medicinal soup into her.

"Mmm."

The bitter taste burst on her tongue instantly. Chen Yao's brows knitted tightly, tears welling up in her amber eyes and sliding down along the reddened corners of her eyes.

...Help, this medicine is unbearably bitter.

But before she could recover, Xiao Mingting's lips and tongue withdrew from her small mouth, only to take another big gulp of medicine without hesitation.

Then he bent down again, gripping her chin once more, and slowly fed the bitter broth into her mouth.

This continued three or four more times until the full bowl of medicine was completely drained.

Finally, his tongue swept meticulously across the inside of her sweet little mouth, hooking her frozen tongue for a lingering, tender kiss before slowly pulling away.

Compared to her pale face earlier, Chen Yao was now limp in his arms, breathing in small, soft gasps, her cheeks flushed with a lovely rosy color—she actually looked healthier.

A hint of satisfaction showed on Xiao Mingting's handsome face. His palm slipped under the brocade quilt, gently stroking her back as if to ease her breathing.

Once she came back to herself, Chen Yao sniffled softly. Her almond-shaped eyes were moist from the kiss, as if veiled in a light mist, giving her a delicate, pitiable look.

Seeing that she had caught her breath, Xiao Mingting took a candied jujube from the small dish beside the medicine bowl. Pinching it between his long, slender fingers, he held it gently to her lips.

When Chen Yao hesitated for only a moment, then obediently opened her pink lips, he curled the corner of his mouth, satisfied, and gently popped the sweet into her mouth.

Her soft, full lips seemed to inadvertently brush against the man's fingertips.

Xiao Mingting lowered his gaze, seeing the faint, damp trace on his fingertip, and his deep, dark eyes simmered with a heavy look.