Chapter 37
Chapter 37: Buddhist Scion’s Iron Tree Blooms
Xiu He raced back to the Green Reed Courtyard, feet barely touching the ground. The moment she entered, she started talking like she’d just stepped off a stage.
She reenacted it vividly for Old Madam.
“Aiyo, Old Madam, you didn’t see it!”
“The Eldest Grandson Young Master was so heartbroken for Xiao Man! He held her like she was some priceless treasure, set her on the bed with such care. That look in his eyes—tsk, tsk—even this servant didn’t dare glance too long!”
“And Xiao Man, that maid—I don’t know where she got the nerve—she even reached up and touched Young Master’s head!”
“And Young Master? Not only did he not get angry, he just stood there like a wooden post and let her do it!”
“Then he even applied the medicine himself. His hands were so careful, even the servant watching thought it was more delicate than palace ladies drawing brows!”
Old Madam lounged on the couch, listening until her eyes narrowed to slits. She even forgot to turn her prayer beads, her grin stretching wider and wider.
“Aiyo!”
So delighted she slapped her thigh.
“Truly, the iron tree bloomed and the monk grew a heart! It’s livelier than any opera! Good, good, good! Now this old woman will get to hold a great-grandchild before I close my eyes!”
Then, as if a thread snapped, she remembered something. Her smile vanished.
“It’s just that… what is Xiao Man really thinking? Is she still hung up on that nonsense about leaving the manor?”
“Xiu He.” Old Madam waved her over. “Tomorrow you go to the Auspicious Cloud Residence again. Take the best blood san qi from my storeroom to clear that maid’s bruises.”
“And while you’re there… feel her out. Ask her if she can still bear to leave.”
She bit down on the word leave until it carried a sharp, lingering meaning.
Xiu He understood at once and bowed.
“This servant understands. I’ll go first thing tomorrow.”
Xiu He turned and found Dong Chun, retelling the Auspicious Cloud Residence’s “spectacle” again—this time with even more seasoning.
Dong Chun was so shocked that the lard candy in her hand plopped onto the ground, rolled a few times, and collected dust.
“My heavens! The Eldest Grandson Young Master carried Xiao Man? And he even applied the medicine himself? What is this—the sun rising in the west?”
But when she heard how badly Xiao Man had been beaten, Dong Chun’s round little face crumpled.
“Ai… Sister Xiao Man is really pitiful. From now on, her days probably won’t be peaceful at all.”
Meanwhile, in the First Madam’s courtyard, Granny Chen also reenacted the scene of “the Buddhist Scion applying medicine himself.”
First Madam held her teacup, fingers whitening from the grip, her face so dark it looked ready to drip.
“My Xuan Er… my precious Buddhist Scion… actually applying medicine to a lowly maid…”
Her chest heaved. After a long moment, she forced the words out through clenched teeth.
“Enough.”
“For the sake of heirs, I’ll endure it.”
“As long as he wakes up and carries on the Lin family’s line, I’ll take it as building virtue for the ancestors.”
Clang.
She slammed the priceless celadon teacup down. Scalding tea splashed over the embroidered tablecloth, spreading into a dark stain.
Over in the second branch, Third Miss Lin Yu Jiao sat before the mirror, fixing a jeweled pin at her temple, still patting her chest in lingering fear.
“Good thing Eldest Sister was sharp and made my stupid maid Chun Cao cut ties with Little Peach early. Otherwise, if Grandmother’s fury spread here, where would I put my face?”
She rolled her eyes at her own reflection.
“That Xiao Man… I can’t tell if she stepped in dog-shit luck or if she’s cursed for eight lifetimes.”
And at the center of all the gossip, Xiao Man lay sprawled on the carved, ornate bed in the Auspicious Cloud Residence’s “luxury staff dorm.”
Cool, soothing ointment covered her cheeks. Her lower belly was dusted with the best bruise-dispersing powder.
Even a small movement still sent stabbing pain through her, but inside, Xiao Man was blooming with joy.
Workplace injury.
This was absolutely a workplace injury.
She counted on her fingers, happily doing the math.
First Madam had said it herself: heal up first, then go back to serving Young Master’s daily needs.
Old Madam even sent her trusted Xiu He with medicine and all kinds of food.
Lin Qing Xuan was so guilty he could barely breathe. These two days, he probably didn’t even dare dream—afraid empathic resonance would get him beaten again.
What did you call this?
Turning disaster into blessing.
No more crawling out of bed before dawn to pay respects. No more tea and water. No more guarding against some Buddhist Scion’s “night raids.” No more racking her brain playing mind games with him.
Three meals a day were delivered respectfully to her bedside, and even her washbasin water was warm.
Sunlight was perfect outside. Birds chirped. The air smelled faintly of medicine and sun.
Was there any paid vacation more perfect than this?
No.
Xiao Man bit into the candied fruit Dong Chun had secretly slipped her, the sweetness making her squint.
One beating for at least half a month of peace—well worth it.
Not only hadn’t her “protecting her body” plan stalled, it had benefited from the disaster. The progress bar had leapt forward in one huge jump.
She sighed in comfort, buried her face deep in the soft new brocade quilt, breathed in the sun-dried scent, and wanted to raise a fist and silently shout:
Long live workplace injuries! Lying flat is righteous!
But that night, after drinking calming decoction, Xiao Man had a strange dream.
A long, eerie dream.
In it, she stood on a towering black altar. Devil qi boiled under her feet, and the roars of countless demons shook her bones.
She wore a snow-white holy robe and held a longsword blazing with golden flames, its tip aimed at a man bound at the altar’s center by thick chains.
The man slowly lifted his head.
It was Lin Qing Xuan’s face.
But his eyes were nothing like his own—no cold purity, only malice, madness, and hatred that could destroy heaven and earth.
“Holy Maiden Official…”
He laughed low, voice hoarse, like an evil ghost grinding its teeth.
“You think you can trap me forever like this?”
Xiao Man heard her own voice—cold, distant, without a shred of feeling.
“Devil Lord, your killing is too heavy. The heavenly Dao won’t allow it.”
“The heavenly Dao?”
Devil Lord threw back his head and laughed. The chains on his body clattered.
“In this world, the weak are eaten. That is my Dao. My Dao is the heavenly Dao!”
Then the whole scene shattered with a roar.
She saw herself drive the golden sword straight into Devil Lord’s heart.
Golden light and black qi twisted and exploded. A pure strand of goodness was torn from him, turning into starlight that scattered into the void.
And Devil Lord’s final words echoed again and again across heaven and earth.
“You think… you can cut all of me away?”
“We… will meet again.”
“Ah!”
Xiao Man jolted upright in bed, cold sweat soaking her thin underclothes.
Outside, the night was still heavy and dark. The bitter aftertaste of calming decoction lingered on her tongue, but the dream felt terrifyingly real, every detail branded into her mind.
She gulped air, heart pounding.
It had to be aftereffects of that beating. Even her dreams were a mess—what was any of that?
Holy Maiden Official and Devil Lord?
Sure, Lin Qing Xuan acted all proper, but he was a real Buddhist Scion. How could he be a devil?
Then again… she really was a “leftover woman.” In her last life, she’d made it to thirty-five without marrying. Leftover to the bone.
As her thoughts spiraled, the medicine still hadn’t worn off. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and she slumped back onto the pillow, drifting off again.
At the same time, inside the Auspicious Cloud Residence…
Lin Qing Xuan, who had been meditating, snapped his eyes open.
A pain like a blade driving through his chest tore the breath from him.
He yanked open his robe.
Over his heart, a golden sword scar—barely an inch long—had appeared. The edges looked scorched, and faint blood seeped through.
Empathic resonance…
What kind of dream had Xiao Man just had?
And why hadn’t he dreamed it too?
Why did he only have to bear the pain from her dream—alone?