Chapter 55
Chapter 55: A Disastrous Encounter, She Struck First and Still Got Chewed Up
Zheng Xiu Yun understood better than anyone how cruel this world was to women.
If she wanted to live well, she had to climb.
And the Heir Apparent’s residence was the highest, nearest branch within reach.
As long as she could seize Lin Qing Xuan’s attention, she could step straight into the clouds and grind everyone beneath her heel.
Men were men. How many could resist a beauty who laid her trap on purpose?
She only needed him to look at her once. After that, she would guide him—slowly, carefully—until he sank.
The first step of conquest was simple: manufacture a “chance” encounter.
She had already won over a little maid in Old Madam’s courtyard, feeding her gifts and favors until the maid’s mouth loosened. At last, Zheng Xiu Yun coaxed out what she wanted: every few days, Lin Qing Xuan went to the Green Reed Courtyard to pay respects.
And from the Auspicious Cloud Residence to the Green Reed Courtyard, he had to pass through the small garden.
A stage prepared by heaven itself.
In her mind, she painted the scene until it gleamed: blossoms in morning mist, a beauty standing just so, a gentleman passing by—one stunning glance that turned into obsession.
Smiling to herself, she rose before dawn.
The autumn morning bit like a blade. A maid tried to urge her into an extra layer, but Zheng Xiu Yun waved her off impatiently.
“What do you know? I need this pitiful look.”
She chose a newly tailored pink gauze spring robe, thin as cicada wings—perfect for showing off her slender waist and pale skin. Then she sat before the mirror and spent half an hour on her “chance encounter” makeup.
Innocent, yet alluring. Every flick of her eyes sharpened into a hook.
Fully prepared, she took her personal maid and went early to the garden to “admire flowers.”
The wind cut through her robe. Goosebumps rose across her skin. She hugged herself and stamped her feet until her teeth chattered.
Her maid whispered, anxious. “Miss, should this servant fetch a cloak? Your face is freezing pale…”
“Quiet,” Zheng Xiu Yun snapped. “Pale is good. That’s ‘pitiful at a glance.’ Don’t talk nonsense.”
Her mouth stayed fierce, but her body shook like a leaf. To preserve her makeup, she didn’t even dare sneeze. She held it in until her eyes watered.
At last, the little maid stationed at the corner came sprinting back, crouching close as she reported in a thrilled whisper.
“Miss! He’s coming—Eldest Young Master is coming!”
Zheng Xiu Yun’s heart jumped.
He was here.
She immediately released her arms, forced her shoulders to loosen, and arranged herself beside the stone path. One hand brushed a branch, the other lifted a blooming chrysanthemum. She turned slightly, offering the graceful line of her neck and jaw.
Her lashes lowered. Her lips curved.
Serene. Exquisite.
Like a beauty stepping out of a painting.
She even knew what she would say.
A shy, trembling “Cousin” would melt him down to bone.
Footsteps drew near.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She held her breath, peeking through lowered lashes at the approaching figure.
Green robes stirred in the wind. Tall, swift, straight-backed.
It was him.
Now.
She softened her smile, deepened it by a fraction—
And Lin Qing Xuan walked past without slowing, without looking, without giving her even the barest shred of attention.
He swept by like a cold gust.
As if she weren’t a living beauty at all—only a tree. A stone. A patch of empty air.
Zheng Xiu Yun’s prepared “Cousin” lodged in her throat like a fish bone. Her fingers tightened without thinking, crushing the chrysanthemum until petals bent and snapped.
By the time she jerked back to herself, his figure had already vanished through the moon gate at the far end of the garden, into Old Madam’s courtyard.
Too fast for rescue. Too clean for excuses.
Leaves spun across the path in the wind. The garden held only Zheng Xiu Yun and her two maids, all three staring, stunned.
Above them, unseen, black fog rolled with laughter.
“Heh heh heh…”
The first garden encounter ended in total defeat.
Back in her courtyard, Zheng Xiu Yun swallowed two full bowls of scalding ginger tea before she could feel her fingers again.
Furious, she tore the pink robe to shreds.
“Damn it. Damn it!”
She refused to believe he hadn’t seen her. A whole person stood right beside the path—was he blind?
No. He had to be pretending. Putting on some lofty act of purity.
Yes. That was it.
The excuse soothed her just enough to rekindle her ambition.
She leaned on silver again.
This time, she bought information from a rough old maidservant in the outer courtyard of the Auspicious Cloud Residence. From her, Zheng Xiu Yun learned that although Lin Qing Xuan lived simply, every afternoon he still drank fine tea and took light snacks.
Zheng Xiu Yun’s eyes brightened.
A chance.
What tactic was more timeless than catching a man’s heart by catching his stomach?
She would make him taste her skill. She would show him she wasn’t just a pretty face—she had hands fit for a virtuous wife.
She begged and bargained with the steward of the main kitchen until she gained use of the small kitchen.
If she was going to do it, she would do it properly.
She chose Jiang Du’s most famous pastry: lotus-leaf pastry.
The method was tedious, demanding patience and delicate hands. She spent the entire morning over the stove, smoke-stained and sweating, burning her fingers into blisters, until a single plate finally emerged—layered, flaky, shaped like lotus buds about to bloom.
So pretty it seemed a waste to eat.
Satisfied, she packed the pastries into a lacquered food box and carried it herself to the Auspicious Cloud Residence.
The courtyard was quiet as a temple. Two towering pines stood at the gate, dark and solemn.
She stepped toward the stairs—and was stopped.
Old Chen Tou and Granny Chen stood like door gods, faces hard and unmoved.
“Cousin Miss, stop there,” Old Chen Tou said flatly, extending an arm to bar her way.
Granny Chen looked her up and down, eyes sharp. “Our young master is in seclusion. He isn’t receiving outside guests. Cousin Miss should return.”
Outside guests.
The words shut like a bolt.
Zheng Xiu Yun’s smile twitched, but she smoothed it back into place. She lifted the food box with both hands and bent humbly.
“Nanny Chen, you misunderstand. I’m not here to disturb Cousin. I only heard he lives simply, so I made some small snacks myself—lotus-leaf pastry from Jiang Du—to go with his tea. Please help pass word in.”
Granny Chen’s gaze flicked to the gold-trimmed box. Her mouth twisted. “Our young master doesn’t like sweet, greasy things. We’ll accept your intention, but you should take the food back.”
Heat surged in Zheng Xiu Yun’s chest.
She swallowed it down, smiling harder. She nudged the box forward, voice softening into a plea.
“Nanny, this truly is my heartfelt effort. I worked all morning to make it. Please take it inside. Whether Cousin eats it is his choice, but I must deliver my heart. I beg you.”
As she spoke, she slipped a small silver ingot from her sleeve, angling it toward Granny Chen.
Granny Chen didn’t even blink. She shifted aside, letting the bribe meet air.
“Cousin Miss, what are you doing?” Granny Chen’s voice turned colder. “We servants follow only our master’s orders. Wait here. I’ll take it in, but whether young master eats it—this old maidservant cannot guarantee.”
She took the box and went inside, leaving Zheng Xiu Yun standing outside the gate, neck craned like a starving bird.
Inside the study, Lin Qing Xuan sat by the window with a book, head lowered.
Granny Chen set down the tray. “Young Master, the Zheng family’s Cousin Miss brought pastries. She says she made them herself.”
Lin Qing Xuan lifted his gaze and glanced once at the lotus-leaf pastry.
Delicate. Fine work.
Then his eyes returned to the page, voice as calm as still water.
“Take them and eat them yourselves.”
Granny Chen’s face lit up. She had been tempted by the fragrance the whole walk in.
“Yes, Young Master.”
She carried the tray out.
At the gate, Zheng Xiu Yun stepped forward, eyes bright with fragile hope.
“Well? Did Cousin… did he like them?”
Granny Chen answered by pinching the prettiest pastry between two fingers and popping it into her mouth in front of Zheng Xiu Yun. She chewed slowly, savoring it with obvious enjoyment.
“Mmm. Delicious. Truly delicious,” she said thickly. “Cousin Miss has real skill.”
Zheng Xiu Yun’s face went white.
“What… what do you mean by that?”
Granny Chen swallowed and grinned—plain, unkind, satisfied.
“Cousin Miss, don’t misunderstand. This is young master’s reward to us servants.”
Reward.
She bit down on the word as if it were meat.
“Young master said he won’t eat a single bite. We can split them ourselves.”
For a moment, Zheng Xiu Yun couldn’t breathe.
The pastries she’d made with blistered hands—he hadn’t even tasted them. He hadn’t even kept them. He’d tossed them down to servants like scraps.
That humiliation cut sharper than refusal.
Granny Chen, pleased by the look on her face, pinched up another pastry and offered it to Old Chen Tou.
“Old man, try one. Cousin Miss made it herself.”
Zheng Xiu Yun stared at them, her beautiful face twisting with rage and shame until it looked almost feral.
She stomped once, spun, and ran—so fast she didn’t even turn back for the maid scrambling after her.