Spoiled Eldest Miss x Two-faced Madman

CHAPTER 59: ¹The Jade Hairpin of the Queen Mother

　　Ah Qi returned just at dawn.

　　He stepped into the small courtyard with long strides, bathed in the first golden sliver of morning light.

　　At that moment, An Jiu happened to be walking out of Pei Ji’s room, hugging the bedsheet to her chest.

　　She bumped right into Ah Qi. He glanced at the room behind her—his young master's bedroom—then at the bedsheet she held, and finally, his eyes landed on the uncontrollable blush on the girl's cheeks. His gaze slowly lowered... and froze on a faint, dark red stain on the sheet.

　　In that instant—shock, awe, and confusion!

　　Seeing his expression, An Jiu immediately knew he’d gotten the wrong idea. She screamed, “Don’t even think about it! Don’t say anything! It’s not what you think!”

　　Ah Qi: “……”

　　Pei Ji, hearing the commotion, wheeled himself out of the room.

　　Seeing the two frozen in confrontation, the white-robed young master paused for a moment, then calmly said, “Ah Qi, go wash the sheet. I got a little injured yesterday, and it got a bit dirty.”

　　At those words, all the messy thoughts in Ah Qi’s head were instantly swept away. He anxiously asked, “Young Master, how did you get hurt?”

　　In his mind, it was rare for anyone to be able to injure his young master. Who could possibly manage such a feat?

　　Pei Ji explained lightly, “I ran into the Demonic Sect’s leader before I left. It wasn’t anything serious.”

　　Seeing his young master’s calm expression, Ah Qi relaxed a little. He reached out and took the bedsheet from An Jiu’s arms, saying boldly, “Just leave it to me, I’ll wash it.”

　　Then, without another word, he turned and went to the well in the courtyard to wash the sheet.

　　An Jiu stood there empty-handed for a long moment before snapping out of it. She turned to Pei Ji with a flushed face and stammered, “W-why did you make him wash it… I could’ve done it myself…”

　　She spoke softly, her face so red it looked like it could bleed.

　　…It was clearly her who dirtied it.

　　Pei Ji’s gaze was gentle, briefly skimming over her small hands. The redness from yesterday had already faded; her palms were once again soft and fair.

　　If she went to wash it herself, she’d probably come crying to him again with tearful eyes.

　　Pei Ji said in a calm voice, “I already told him it was my fault. He won’t suspect anything.”

　　Truthfully, An Jiu didn’t want to wash the bedsheet either—it was exhausting, and honestly, she’d never done that kind of chore before. She was just too embarrassed to admit it.

　　Hearing this, she accepted the excuse like a gift, face still red as she mumbled, “O-okay then.”

　　She secretly peeked at the man’s gentle expression—like rippling spring water between his brows—and felt that he had never treated her with such tenderness before. For a brief moment, it even felt like… he was spoiling her.

　　Pei Ji had always seemed gentle and easygoing in the past too, but back then, it felt like he was merely wearing a mask—his smiles never reaching his eyes.

　　Now, however, he was genuinely considering things from her perspective, caring for her in subtle, thoughtful ways. And what’s more… it all seemed to come naturally to him.

　　All this from just 55 points of favorability rating? An Jiu couldn’t even imagine what he’d be like with a higher score.

　　—

　　After Ah Qi returned, An Jiu’s days immediately improved.

　　All the daily chores were taken over by Ah Qi—bringing tea, serving food, doing laundry—An Jiu no longer had to worry about any of it. Just yesterday, she hadn’t even managed to drink a cup of hot tea, simply because she didn’t know how to light the stove.

　　Ah Qi washed the bedsheet and hung it to dry by the magnolia tree in the courtyard.

　　As An Jiu passed by the tree, she didn’t even dare glance that way and hurried her steps.

　　“Pei Ji, I picked up the medicine. Is this the right stuff?”

　　She had just gone out to buy the herbs. There was a pharmacy not far from the courtyard, supposedly owned by the Medicine King Valley.

　　She placed the medicine packets on the table, blinking up at the white-robed man sitting beside it.

　　Pei Ji lifted his hand, and layers of snow-white sleeves slipped down, revealing a slender, fair wrist. He carefully examined each herb, his long fingers occasionally picking out inferior pieces and tossing them aside.

　　“This will do. Give them to Ah Qi to decoct,” he said, the corners of his eyes softly curved with a gentle smile.

　　An Jiu nodded and bounced out the door again.

　　Earlier that morning, Pei Ji had given her an acupuncture session. It was the first time she had experienced complete relief from pain—she was over the moon.

　　That happiness lasted all the way… until the moment she had to drink the medicine.

　　Holding the bowl, she sniffed the sour, bitter, strange-smelling concoction, and looked miserably at the white-robed man who was still smiling gently in front of her. “Pei Ji, can I really not skip this? It doesn’t hurt right now.”

　　Pei Ji’s gaze fell on her scrunched-up face, a faint warmth lingering in his eyes. His tone was gentle: “Acupuncture is only temporary. To truly fix it, you still have to take the medicine. Or do you want to go through this pain every month?”

　　An Jiu mumbled, “Can’t I just stay with you forever?”

　　Pei Ji was caught off guard, as if the words triggered something. The curve of his lips slowly straightened, and the warmth in his eyes quietly faded—

　　As though he had suddenly woken from a beautiful dream… and seen reality.

　　It was a while before he slowly shook his head and looked deeply at her. “No.”

　　In the end, An Jiu still drank the medicine. Ji Xiang wasn’t around, so there was no one to coax her. But just as she put down the bowl, a small plate of candied fruit with a sweet, lingering aroma was placed before her.

　　She held the small plate, her slender fingers distinctly jointed and smooth as jade.

　　Hurriedly, she picked up a piece of the candied fruit and swallowed it, lowering her eyes to look at the man’s softly furrowed brows. The bitterness on her tongue lingered for a long time, for reasons she couldn’t quite explain.

　　After Ah Qi returned, it wasn’t long before An Jiu received news from Jin Yanwan.

　　The messenger was a maid from the Jinshe Villa—An Jiu remembered her; every time Jin Yanwan wanted to contact her before, it was this maid who brought the messages.

　　After delivering the letter, the maid left quickly. When An Jiu tried to ask more, the maid only said the villa was overwhelmed with affairs, the young lady was too busy with various matters to pay attention, but would come see her personally in the future.

　　An Jiu went back to her room and opened the letter. Through Jin Yanwan’s words, she saw the fate of Jinshe Villa.

　　This letter was unusually long—several pages.

　　At the very start, Jin Yanwan sternly warned An Jiu not to reveal the secret manual she possessed.

　　“A righteous man is innocent, yet guilty for the treasure he holds—I fully understand this now. An Jiu, you must never let anyone know about this. Whether for me or for you, once this is known, the consequences that befell Jinshe Villa today will become our fate.”

　　After this warning, the letter detailed Jinshe Villa’s current situation.

　　Jin You had fought against Mei Xi—one of the four great protectors of the Demonic Sect—and was gravely wounded, now near death.

　　Her stepmother, originally from a modest background, had lost her backbone with Jin You’s injury and spent her days weeping bitterly.

　　The younger brother, only a little over ten, was so shocked by the incident that he fell into a coma-like state. Though physically unharmed, he had become withdrawn and silent. Witnessing his father’s injury left a deep psychological scar on the young boy, who no longer dared to touch his sword.

　　Thus, the one who finally stood up to support the entire Jinshe Villa was Jin Yanwan, who had long been overlooked.

　　Jinshe Villa faced harsh criticism from the major sects in the martial world. There were damaged buildings, dead servants—all requiring attention. Jin Yanwan was so busy she barely touched the ground with her feet.

　　She sent this letter to An Jiu after hearing someone say that they saw her in town.

　　“At this moment, the only thing I’m grateful for is that I managed to steal that secret manual. Jinshe Villa still has a chance to rise again…”

　　At the end of the letter, Jin Yanwan wrote these words.

　　Between the lines, it was clear she had not been crushed by this sudden calamity. Instead, it had made her even more resilient.

　　She was never a delicate orchid needing tender care—she was a proud white plum blossom standing tall in the snow, blooming even against the harshest biting wind.

　　An Jiu didn’t write back to Jin Yanwan, and Jin Yanwan probably didn’t need any words of comfort from her anyway.

　　In the following days, the martial artists in Jinshe Town gradually became fewer.

　　Those who had come out of curiosity and excitement saw the heat died down and naturally left one after another.

　　However, quite a number stayed behind—mostly members from various major martial sects.

　　The Demonic Sect’s raid didn’t just steal the divine martial manual; they also ‘conveniently’ took away precious treasures brought by those sects. This was not something that could be let go easily.

　　The Demonic Sect had humiliated the Central Plains martial world so blatantly—could the Central Plains warriors simply tolerate this? They were all hot-blooded and chivalrous people, the kind who would duel at the slightest disagreement, so how could they tolerate this?

　　Since the Central Plains martial world could not accept this, those sects refused to leave. Instead, they planned to convene and draft a formal resolution.

　　The relationship between the Central Plains martial world and the Western Demonic Sect had always been like this: you strike me, I retaliate. This had gone on for generations.

　　Besides, they didn’t want their trip to be wasted—especially those major sects who had been chosen to obtain the manual—who firmly demanded they must fight back and retrieve the manual.

　　A cooked duck was about to be fed into the mouth, only to fly away like this—who could bear that?

　　They just couldn’t swallow this grievance.

　　Even the injured Bishui Sword Master didn’t leave; instead, he stayed in Jinshe Town to recuperate, while sending messages to various martial sects inviting those who hadn’t come to join the discussion on ‘how to punish the Demonic Sect.’

　　All these messages were told to An Jiu by Ah Qi.

　　Who knew what was going on in that kid’s head? Recently, he had become unexpectedly attentive toward her—occasionally asking if she was cold or warm, which made An Jiu feel uneasy.

　　“An Jiu—no, Miss An, what would you like to eat today?”

　　From inside the room came the girl’s weak voice.

　　Ah Qi responded, “How about something light? You don’t have much appetite.”

　　“Anything will do,” the young lady replied impatiently.

　　Ah Qi didn’t mind and smiled as he rubbed his head and walked away.

　　Though the young master said the blood on the sheets was from his own injury, what kind of person was Ah Qi? Had he never seen human blood before?

　　That blood clearly wasn’t from normal bleeding but some kind of blood stasis.

　　Ah Qi immediately sensed something was off. His mind raced, quickly piecing together all the information, and he came to an incredible yet perfectly reasonable conclusion—his young master and An Jiu were together!

　　Maybe this was even a good thing!

　　Otherwise, how else could the bloodstains on the sheets be explained?

　　Although the progress was unexpectedly fast, Ah Qi thought to himself: his young master was already eighteen, an age when most men are already fathers. So this timing was actually just right!

　　An Jiu had been drinking the womb-warming soup these past few days, looking listless—she must have been exhausted that day.

　　The more Ah Qi thought about it, the more convinced he was. He really was clever beyond compare.

　　He chuckled—since she was going to be the future young madam, he couldn’t keep calling her An Jiu anymore; he had to call her Miss An.

　　Soon enough, would he be able to see the young master’s baby born?

　　Ah Qi sank into this wonderful daydream.

　　That night, while serving Pei Ji to bed, Ah Qi’s expression was a bit hesitant, as if wanting to say something but holding back.

　　He was wondering if he had come at the wrong time.

　　Ever since he arrived, the young master hadn’t shared a room with Miss An anymore. Sigh—he was standing right between the two of them and felt extremely awkward.

　　Ah Qi definitely didn’t want to be like the ²ornamental hairpin of the Queen Mother of the West—useless and stuck in the middle.

　　Just as he was about to ask whether he should step aside and give them some space, suddenly outside the window came the fluttering sound of wings.

　　Pei Ji abruptly looked up and turned his gaze toward the sound.

　　On the windowpane sat a round, fluffy gray owl, silently watching the two of them.

________________

Glossary:

¹Queen Mother of the West (Wángmǔ Niángniang - 王母娘娘): A powerful immortal goddess in Taoist mythology. She resides in the Kunlun Mountains and is associated with immortality, longevity, and magical powers. She is not a historical figure tied to any specific dynasty.

²Ornamental hairpin of the Queen Mother of the West—useless and stuck in the middle: This sentence uses a metaphor comparing Ah Qi to the ornamental hairpin of the Queen Mother of the West (王母娘娘的玉簪).

It means:

Ah Qi definitely didn’t want to end up like that fancy but useless hairpin—something beautiful but stuck in one place, with no real purpose or freedom.

In other words, Ah Qi fears being trapped in a role where he looks valuable or impressive but is powerless, confined, and unable to act or change the situation.

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