I don’t want eighty strikes of the board. And I especially don’t want to be hung at the city gate.
Great Immortal, say something!
Her mind echoed, hollow and empty. No one answered.
After a moment, Chen Baoxiang accepted reality — the Great Immortal was gone again.
She would have to face this powerful, well-connected injured party entirely on her own.
Her eyes shifted. Chen Baoxiang promptly feigned weakness and flopped back against the pillow.
Zhang Zhixu’s hand moved swiftly — he let go of the spoon and caught her before she could fall properly, his eyes narrowing slightly: “That trick might work on someone else, but it will never work on me. Sit up properly and keep drinking.”
Chen Baoxiang lay with her eyes shut, her scalp prickling.
She knew the rumours — he was said to be an exceptionally shrewd young master — but she hadn’t expected him to see through her performance with a single glance. She could fool even Pei Ruheng, and he wasn’t even acquainted with her — how could he catch her out every single time?
After forcing through two brief moments of pretended stillness, she steeled herself and sat up to drink the medicine.
Zhang Zhixu had no skill at caring for anyone. He administered the medicine very roughly, and several times she had to reach out herself to intercept the spoon, or the medicine would have spilled all over the brocade-embroidered cotton quilt that was obviously worth a small fortune.
But this young master seemed entirely unaware, and in one go finished feeding her the medicine, then tucked the quilt back around her: “Master will come to examine you again shortly.”
His tone was perfectly familiar. But Chen Baoxiang was afraid.
She thought Zhang Zhixu was deliberately putting her at ease, waiting for her to confess her crimes, before having her strung up at the city gate.
She shrank deeper under the quilt and didn’t dare meet his eyes.
Zhang Zhixu found himself somewhat unsettled by her sudden silence.
He looked at her with puzzlement: “What’s wrong with you?”
“Noth — nothing……” She hemmed and hawed without answering, and even tried to roll over and present him with her back.
Zhang Zhixu considered this, and concluded she was probably hungry. He had food brought to the room.
The Zhang family’s breakfast was far more lavish than the Pei family’s — there was bamboo shoot broth, rich and tender, made from a single chicken per portion; rare mushrooms in minced meat, difficult to procure; flaky roasted goose; a five-colour platter of vegetables; and an easily digestible silver rice porridge, mild and fragrant.
Zhang Zhixu placed the small table on the bed and fanned the aromas toward her.
Chen Baoxiang had obviously caught the smell — her whole body was twitching with the effort — but she somehow held herself back, and turned away from him with: “I’m not hungry. Please, everyone eat without me.”
Something was wrong.
Zhang Zhixu raised an eyebrow, and finally understood what the problem was.
---