Xianglan's heart still pounded with residual fear. She stole a glance and saw Lin Jinlou's face was like perpetual frost, twisted with venomous fury. His neck was rigid, his chest heaving violently as if forcing down waves of rage, yet his tightly clenched fists trembled slightly.
Xianglan shrank further into the corner, her mind in turmoil and unable to form any coherent thought. Her head felt heavy and muddled, unable to comprehend how Lin Jinlou had appeared as suddenly as a divine soldier descending from heaven. The series of shocks had left her stiff as a block of wood, yet she couldn't stop trembling, her face cold and wet with tears.
Lin Jinlou gritted his teeth, turning his face away stubbornly without even glancing at Xianglan. He feared that if he looked at her, the fury burning in his ribs would erupt from his throat, mingled with a bitterness he couldn't name—a sensation even more unbearable, like oil poured on fire, searing his heart and lungs.
The carriage was silent except for the creaking of wheels.
After a short while, the carriage stopped. There came the sound of a gate opening, then the carriage moved forward briefly before halting again. Someone outside the curtain said respectfully, "Eldest Master, we've arrived."
Lin Jinlou slowly exhaled, lifted the curtain and stepped down. Turning back, he held the curtain aside with one hand while fixing his gaze on Xianglan. Frozen by his stare, Xianglan remained weak-limbed but obediently bowed her head and slowly crawled over. With a cold expression, Lin Jinlou reached out, grabbed her, pulled her close, adjusted the cloak wrapped around her, roughly covered her head with it, and carried her out.
Only after entering the house, passing through the main hall, and reaching the inner chamber did he set Xianglan down.
The moment her feet touched the ground, Xianglan hurriedly uncovered her face. She found herself in a simply furnished bedroom. Though less extravagant than the Hall of Knowing Spring, the decorative objects and furniture were still of fine quality. Without daring to examine the room closely, fearful that Lin Jinlou would settle accounts with her, she kept her head lowered and quietly slipped to the doorway, pressing herself against the wall with her eyes fixed on the floor.
Seeing her like a mouse confronted by a cat, Lin Jinlou's anger somewhat dissipated, though resentment still simmered. He said coldly, "Look at your foolish appearance—you deserve to be selling flesh in a brothel! If you hadn't saved Madam, I'd have been blind to rescue you!"
Xianglan shrank back slightly, a string of teardrops falling to dampen the hem of the cloak dragging on the floor.
Lin Jinlou felt his chest tighten, snarling, "What are you crying for? You should be ashamed to cry!" He waved a hand dismissively and strode deeper into the room, tugging at his collar to loosen his inner garment. He hadn't wanted to scold her, but the thought of her running away and nearly losing her virtue, combined with her disheveled state, made him unable to hold back. Yet after his outburst, seeing Xianglan even more terrified—looking as if she would curl into a tiny ball if not standing—he closed his eyes, clenched his fists, and let out another long breath.
This was a residence Lin Jinlou maintained in Yangzhou, staffed with only two young maids, two older women, two footmen, and an elderly groundskeeper. The two maids had initially intended to serve upon their master's return, but seeing Lin Jinlou carrying someone in while visibly enraged, they all shrank back, unwilling to attract his ire. Now, as Lin Jinlou emerged from the bedroom, they had no choice but to steel themselves and step forward to offer tea and arrange fruits.Lin Jinlou said, "Go boil more bathwater. Ask Jixiang for that calming prescription, brew it into a liquid and bring it in." The maids acknowledged the order.
Lin Jinlou sat in an outer chair and drank a cup of tea, waiting until his emotions had settled before returning to the room. He saw Xianglan curled up against the wall with her knees hugged to her chest. His clothes were too large on her, and she had her head covered, resembling a silkworm cocoon, as if wholeheartedly isolating herself from the world. Lin Jinlou frowned deeply, strode forward in two steps, and pulled Xianglan up, saying, "What are you doing sitting on the ground? Are you thinking that if you freeze and fall ill, I won’t punish you? Huh?" But he met Xianglan’s terrified eyes as she flinched in panic, raising a hand to shield her head and face.
Lin Jinlou was taken aback, not understanding what was happening, and his heart softened instantly. He stared at her without speaking.
Xianglan saw the flicker in Lin Jinlou’s eyes and, thinking he was still angry, grew fearful. Only now did she realize what Lin Jinlou looked like in a towering rage. Compared to this, his previous harsh treatment of her seemed almost saintly. By this measure, given his temperament, he had actually been quite lenient with her, holding back considerably. With one punch, he had crushed half of Du Bin’s face, and the memory of the "crack, crack" sound of shattering bones still made her scalp tingle. She feared that in his fury, the Tyrant Lin might strike her as well.
Xianglan’s head throbbed with pain, her body felt waves of chill, and she was nauseous and dizzy. Hoarsely, she murmured, "I beg Eldest Master to remember that I once saved Madam… please don’t punish me…"
Lin Jinlou looked at her swollen, red face beneath her disheveled hair and glimpsed the tattered clothes under her cloak. The anger and resentment surged within him again. Gritting his teeth, he said, "I’d hit you? Count on your fingers how many times I’ve hit you! Which of your injuries now were inflicted by me? So, in your heart, I can never be anything but a villain who only knows how to beat you, is that it? Then I’ll give you a thrashing, so I don’t bear this wicked reputation for nothing!"
Having spent some time with Lin Jinlou, Xianglan had gained some insight into his temperament. Although he was impervious to both soft and hard tactics, confronting him head-on was certain self-destruction. Though Xianglan was strong-willed and stubborn, she was also clever and had learned to adapt through her hardships. Obediently, she said softly, "That’s not what I meant… I know you came to rescue me. I’m just… very afraid…"
At the sight of Xianglan wiping her tears, Lin Jinlou’s anger subsided a little. He gazed at her for a long moment, then suddenly pulled her into his arms and ruffled her hair, saying, "Very afraid? Are you fooling me? You’re bold as brass, daring to slip away from the mountain in the chaos. No wonder I turned Jinling upside down and couldn’t find you—you ran off to Yangzhou for some fun. How have you enjoyed these days away from me? Did you think that by saving Madam and Fourth Miss, you’d evened the score between us?" His voice was light and gentle, yet carried a sinister chill.
Xianglan hadn’t expected Lin Jinlou to settle accounts with her now, nor had she anticipated that he would guess she had fled during the chaos. Her heart leaped into her throat again, and she hurriedly waved her hands, saying, "No, no, I didn’t mean to run away…"Lin Jinlou pressed his index finger against Xianglan's lips and said, "You claim you haven't been living freely? Yet you seemed quite content in that little temple—even took up painting. I never knew our little Xianglan was such a skilled artist." His eyes fixed on hers with a mocking smile as he continued, "Don't play games with me. I've told you before, your little tricks are transparent to me. If you truly intended to stay, you would've hidden when the guards stormed the temple, or returned to the Lin or Chen families after escaping. Instead, you slipped away without a word. We'll settle your ungrateful behavior later—for now, tell me: who helped you?"
Xianglan's heart sank, terrified of implicating Abbess Dingsu. She bit her lip and fell silent, burying her face in Lin Jinlou's chest as tears fell. A chill spread through her body, deepening her misery. Lin Jinlou's voice seemed to drift in and out of focus as her consciousness began to blur.
After pressing her further and receiving no response, Lin Jinlou noticed her violent trembling and realized something was wrong. He carried her to the bed, and upon touching her forehead, cursed under his breath at the burning heat. Wrapping her tightly in the rhombus-patterned quilt, he rose to summon a physician.
Lin Jinlou's robust frame always radiated warmth like a furnace. The moment he left, Xianglan felt the cold intensify. In her delirium, she clung to his neck and murmured, "Don't go..."
He had been about to pry her arms away but froze at her words. Staring at her face for a long moment, he slowly lowered his hands.
Xianglan, lost in feverish dreams, instinctively clung to the warmth beside her like a lifeboat. Chaotic visions pursued her—fleeting figures she could never outrun, a blurred-faced rescuer, whispered voices that fell silent, and bitter medicine forced down her throat. Whether from the potion's bitterness or her own despair, a tear escaped her eye. Someone wiped it away with a finger and patted her back in clumsy comfort, though the heavy-handed strokes only worsened her discomfort. She struggled weakly but was pinned by strong arms. Resentment and sorrow washed over her—even sleep offered no peace. Yet exhaustion prevailed, and she fell into deep slumber with tear tracks still glistening on her cheeks.
Seeing her fully asleep, Lin Jinlou gently moved her arms aside and slipped out of bed. He draped an additional quilt over her. Xianglan's face was swollen, tear-stained, with a reddened nose that evoked pity. Lin Jinlou gazed at her sleeping form and sneered, "Ungrateful wretch. Heartless woman. And you dare act wronged?"After cursing a few times, he found it pointless and sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. Only then did the joy of finding Xianglan truly emerge from the depths of his heart. For three months, day and night, with each passing day, his despair had grown deeper. Until Han Guangye came running excitedly to report having seen Xianglan at a temple in Yangzhou—he hadn’t dared believe it, yet he immediately packed lightly and set off, traveling day and night, constantly changing horses to rush to Yangzhou. The entire journey, he had wondered what he would do if it wasn’t her, and if it was her, why she would be in Yangzhou. The more he pondered, the more anger simmered within him, but he had no time to dwell on it, focusing solely on finding her. Now that he had found her, his emotions were indescribable; he felt like shouting loudly or hitting something to vent his frustration. Yet, gazing at Xianglan’s sleeping face with its furrowed brow, he thought that as long as she was back in his arms, there was nothing left to resent.
He stared at Xianglan’s face, his expression complex and inscrutable.
Suddenly, a young maid timidly announced, "Eldest Master, the hot towel is here."
Lin Jinlou snapped back to reality, uttered "Oh," took the hot towel, and wiped Xianglan’s face carelessly. He then ordered someone to bring a small box. Unscrewing it revealed a milky-white ointment. Lin Jinlou scooped some and applied it to Xianglan’s swollen, red face. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, "This time, I saved you. You still owe me. Thinking you can clear the debt with me? Don’t even dream of it."
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