Chapter 23
Chapter 23: Old Chen Tou’s Family Shock Level +1
Xiao Man practically threw herself at the door, yanked back the heavy bolt, then rushed to the windows and shoved both carved panels wide open.
Cool air poured in, carrying the clean green scent of the courtyard. It swept through the sandalwood haze—and that invisible pressure she couldn’t name.
She stood by the window and dragged in a greedy mouthful of fresh air, as if the wind might scrub her mind clean—blow away the humiliation, the chaos, and that cursed “inner voice.”
The little person inside her cheered like it had won a war.
Her back was soaked through with cold sweat. The breeze hit it and sent a sharp chill into her bones, but the sting cleared her head.
She stole a glance toward the desk.
Lin Qing Xuan remained leaned back, prayer beads in hand, gaze resting on the bright courtyard beyond the lattice. Sunlight spilled over his plain white robe, outlining him in clean, cold light.
There was no irritation on his face. No smug triumph, either. The earlier clash—thoughts colliding—and this sudden burst of ventilation both seemed like nothing more than drifting dust.
Xiao Man cursed him silently for that perfect composure. Still, she didn’t dare linger. She bowed quickly toward his back.
“If Young Master has no further orders, this servant… will go familiarize myself with the courtyard duties.”
She didn’t wait for permission. Like a startled rabbit, she slipped out at once—pulling the door mostly shut behind her, but leaving it just ajar.
At the same time, in the side yard of Auspicious Cloud Residence—
Granny Chen had never run so fast in her life.
Her legs churned like wheels on fire. Her chest heaved. Sweat dotted her brow, her old face red as a lantern.
Clutched tight in her arms was a small cloth bundle that burned against her ribs.
Matron Zhou had handed it to her with her own stern hands—Matron Zhou, the sharpest, most capable attendant at the First Madam’s side.
And with it came an order that nearly made Granny Chen faint on the spot.
Something big.
And this bundle of big medicine.
She barreled into the side room she shared with Old Chen Tou and found her old man and their son Stone sitting stiffly inside, staring at each other with the dazed look of people who’d survived a sudden storm.
“Ma? Why are you running like that?” Stone blurted.
Granny Chen didn’t bother catching her breath. She yanked Stone close, eyes sharp as knives, voice low and deadly serious.
“Stone, listen to me. From now on, stay far away from that maid Xiao Man. If you can avoid talking, then don’t talk. She’s not like the other maids. Do you hear me?”
Stone jumped at her tone and nodded fast. “Y-yes, Ma. I got it.”
“And one more thing.”
Granny Chen dug out a heavy string of copper coins and shoved it into his hand.
“Take this. Go buy something good to eat. Go play. Don’t wander around the courtyard—especially don’t listen at walls.”
She pushed him toward the door.
Stone stared at the money like it might sprout wings.
His mother giving him coins?
Without him begging?
The world had flipped.
His face split into a grin. “Alright! Thanks, Ma! I’m going!”
He tucked the coins away and started to run.
“Wait!”
Granny Chen snatched his collar again, eyes warning.
“Remember what I said. Don’t get ideas about Xiao Man. Not one sliver of thought.”
Stone nodded so hard his ornaments might as well have trembled too. “Don’t worry, Ma. I understand. I understand!”
Then he bolted, delighted.
The moment he disappeared beyond the yard gate, Granny Chen slammed the door shut and dropped the bar.
She turned, pressed her back to the wood, and panted, one hand on her chest. Her face held equal parts shock and secret dread.
“Old woman,” Old Chen Tou snapped, frowning, “did you run into a ghost? What are you doing, barring the door like this?”
Granny Chen crossed the room in three steps and clamped both hands around his arm. Her fingers dug into flesh. Her voice shook, forced down into a whisper.
“Old man—something happened. Something huge. Heaven-sized.”
“Spit it out. Don’t drag it out.”
“I just came from Matron Zhou. The First Madam… the First Madam spoke.”
Granny Chen swallowed hard, eyes bright with panic and a strange, breathless excitement.
“That maid Xiao Man—she’s not just here to grind ink and serve paper. She’s… she’s the woman Young Master personally named.”
“A woman?!” Old Chen Tou sucked in a breath. He’d suspected as much, but hearing it aloud still struck like a hammer.
“Yes! A woman!” Granny Chen slapped her thigh, voice trembling. “Our Young Master—the one so pure he’s nearly shaved his head—for the first time in over twenty years! He wants meat. He wants a woman!”
She looked genuinely offended by fate.
“That maid—she’s going to the heavens. I’ve stared until my eyes hurt. She’s not exactly some unmatched beauty. How did she even—”
Old Chen Tou’s mouth twitched. His priorities were elsewhere.
“Then what did Madam say? Just send the girl over?”
Granny Chen leaned closer, voice turning conspiratorial.
“Matron Zhou said the First Madam ordered it. We must fully support Young Master. Help Young Master win Xiao Man over.”
“Win her over?!” Old Chen Tou’s eyes nearly popped. “Shouldn’t it be the maid trying to climb into bed—using every trick she has? How did it flip around? Now we have to help Young Master… win her?”
It shattered his understanding of the world.
“Who else would believe it?” Granny Chen’s eyes reddened. Her voice wavered, almost crying. “My precious Young Master… like a pearl, like an immortal… how did he set his sights on a maid like that? And now we’re told to help him ‘win her’—what kind of nonsense is this? I can’t accept it!”
She actually sniffled, as if her carefully raised cabbage had decided to chase a pig—and she’d been ordered to hand over the hoe.
Old Chen Tou’s patience snapped.
“Enough. Stop crying. None of your damn business. If Young Master wants it, who are you to object?” He glared at her. “And that maid isn’t as terrible as you make her sound. She’s clean-looking, quick-handed, and her temper seems steady.”
Granny Chen choked the tears back, still resentful.
Then, like someone bracing to jump off a cliff, she pulled out the cloth bundle and shoved it into his hands.
“Here. This.”
Her voice dropped even lower, thick with fear.
“Matron Zhou gave it. She said… if it’s necessary… we can use it.”
Old Chen Tou peeled back a corner.
One look at the pale, suspicious powder inside—paired with Matron Zhou’s position and those words, if it’s necessary—was enough.
His jaw dropped into a perfect O. The blood drained from his face in a flash.
“This… this… a tiger-and-wolf aphrodisiac?”
His voice cracked. His hands shook like he was holding a live coal.
“My heavens. They’re using even this kind of method?” He stared at the bundle in horror. “Young Master… does he really need to go that far?”
The idea was beyond anything his mind could hold comfortably.
A Buddhist Scion pursuing a maid—and it had come to this?
Had Madam lost her mind?
Old Chen Tou snapped the bundle shut and shoved it back at Granny Chen like it might explode.
“Hide it. Deep. Make sure no one sees it.”
His eyes turned sharp, hard as iron.
“Old woman, listen carefully. Heaven knows, earth knows, you know, I know. It dies with us. You do not speak of it to anyone—not even our son. Especially not with that loose mouth of yours. If a single word leaks—”
He drew a finger across his throat.
“Then you, me, and Stone are finished. Do you understand?”
Granny Chen went pale as paper. She clutched the bundle and nodded fast, fear swallowing her whole.
“I understand. I understand. Old man, don’t worry. I know what’s heavy and what’s light. Beat me to death and I still won’t say it.”
She stuffed the bundle deep into her clothes, like it was poison.
The side room fell into thick silence—only their rough breathing remained, and the heavy weight of disaster hanging above their heads.
Meanwhile, Xiao Man hurried along the corridor toward her own room, desperate for distance from that meditation room. She had no idea she’d already become the target of a campaign approved from the top, run by Old Chen Tou and Granny Chen themselves, and supplied with “strategic materials” for the Buddhist Scion’s eat-meat campaign.
Back in the meditation room, Lin Qing Xuan’s fingers brushed the place where her sleeve had splattered ink.
A smear—still damp—darkened his fingertip, black as night.
He lifted his hand and looked at it.
In those deep, still eyes, something like a ripple passed—faint, fleeting, almost impossible to catch.
Outside the window, the sunlight was perfect.