Chapter 22

Chapter 22: Transparent to His Mind

Xiao Man stared at his face—still too handsome to feel human, even in the dim light. Her heart thudded so hard it tightened her throat.

“Eldest Young Master, you jest. How would this servant dare call Master by his given name?”

She wrapped herself in rules, stacking etiquette on etiquette until it felt like armor.

Lin Qing Xuan didn’t look up. His brush moved with steady grace over the rice paper, each stroke calm, clean, precise.

His voice stayed even, as if stating something as ordinary as the weather—yet the words dropped into Xiao Man’s chest like a stone into deep water.

“When no one was around, you also called me ‘good brother.’”

Boom—

Heat surged straight to her head. Her cheeks, her ears, even her neck burned so fiercely she almost believed she might ignite.

Shame rushed in after it, sharp and helpless, followed by the raw panic of being stripped bare in daylight.

She clenched her fists until her nails bit her palms, trying to drag herself back to reason through pain.

As if answering the silent scream in her heart, Lin Qing Xuan finally set the brush down.

He lifted his head. Those deep, still eyes caught the tangled mess on her face—humiliation, fear, and that stubborn refusal to be pushed around.

His fingers paused on the prayer beads for the smallest beat. He met her gaze with an honesty that felt almost cruel.

“I made some adjustments.”

“It’s normal that you can’t hear it.”

“And also…”

He paused. His eyes swept lightly across her, and her skin prickled. Instinctively, she felt his attention brush her lower belly. His tone didn’t change.

“If empathic resonance fully opens, then that kick you gave me in your dream…”

He hesitated, searching for the right words. Xiao Man understood at once. The red drained from her face.

“…you’d probably be the one lying in bed for a few days.”

Xiao Man: “…”

Lin Qing Xuan, seemingly unaware of how pale she’d turned, continued in the same calm voice.

“As for ‘modern person’…”

He frowned, genuinely puzzled by the term.

“Is it that person?”

Xiao Man’s heart went cold.

[He heard it.]

[He really heard it.]

She flooded her mind with frantic noise, like a barrage meant to bury a landmine: [Prosperity, democracy, civility, harmony, freedom, equality, justice, the rule of law…]

Lin Qing Xuan’s brow tightened for an instant, struck by the sudden chaos. He lifted a hand and pressed his temple with his fingertip. For once, his voice carried a hint of weary resignation.

“I didn’t mean to read you.”

“It’s just… when we’re close, I’ll hear some things.”

He rolled the beads again, looking at her as if to say: your thoughts are too loud. They throw themselves into my ears.

Xiao Man stared at his calm, faintly aggrieved face, then at the ink splattered on her sleeve.

A hot, wicked anger flared up her spine. She wanted to grab the heavy inkstone and fling its black heart all over that shamelessly beautiful face.

Shameless. Unbothered. Unbeatable.

She took a deep breath. Then another. She forced the impulse down and tried to sound calm—reasonable—scientific, even.

“Eldest Young Master.” She weighed the title on purpose, placing it between them like a shield. “You mean this… sensing other people’s thoughts… depends on distance? For example, when this servant worked in Old Madam’s courtyard, if I was farther away, you couldn’t hear me. Is that right?”

Lin Qing Xuan gave a small nod.

Hope sparked in Xiao Man’s eyes.

Distance.

A safe distance.

She straightened, dragging her most sincere expression into place—the kind that said, very earnestly, I am thinking for Master’s sake.

“In that case—Eldest Young Master, please look.”

She pointed at the tightly shut door and the closed windows, then at the broad desk between them, her tone urgent with righteousness she didn’t bother to hide.

“A man and a woman alone in one room, doors and windows barred… if word gets out, it harms your reputation.”

“This servant is lowly—if my name is ruined, it’s ruined. But you are a Buddhist Scion. You are the pillar of the heir apparent residence. If rumors spread, Old Madam and the First Madam would be heartbroken.”

“So, for your reputation, and to avoid suspicion—”

She stared straight at Lin Qing Xuan, each word landing hard.

“Let’s open the door. And the windows, too. All of them.”

“Let it air out. Let it breathe. Let it be bright. That way… those sounds that shouldn’t be heard won’t accidentally crash into your ears and stain your purity.”

She finished in one breath. Her chest rose and fell, eyes shining with the saintly glow of I’m doing this for you—and the barely concealed desperation of let me out.

Outside, Old Chen Tou and Stone had their ears pressed to a crack in the door.

When they heard her loud, unmistakable talk of “avoiding suspicion” and “opening the door and windows,” father and son both sucked in a sharp breath.

Old Chen Tou: “…”

Stone: “…”

Inside, Lin Qing Xuan listened without interrupting. His fingers slid over the smooth prayer beads, slow as falling water.

His gaze settled on her face—flushed with nerves, eyes bright enough to cut through shadow. All her resolve was written there: I want out. I want away from you.

Silence stretched in the sealed room, thick with sandalwood.

Then Lin Qing Xuan’s lips tugged upward—so slight it could have been a trick of light.

He said nothing. He only leaned back against the solid rosewood chair, lifted the same hand that had shut the room tight, and flicked it casually toward the window.

A soft click answered.

As you wish.