Chapter 57
Chapter 57: Schemes Come to Nothing
Zheng Xiu Yun hadn’t been idle for a single day.
Her spies had already reached into the Auspicious Cloud Residence. A few scraps of silver in the palms of the little maids who did the sweeping, and Lin Qing Xuan’s routine lay exposed.
Before he copied scriptures, he always bathed to purify himself.
Today, the Auspicious Cloud Residence was unnaturally quiet.
Xiao Man claimed she felt unwell and stayed in her room. Chen Shi had been sent to the temple early with freshly copied scriptures. Granny Chen had wandered off somewhere to gossip. The courtyard was left with only Old Chen Tou beneath the eaves, a water pipe tucked against his chest as he dozed, his head bobbing.
Heaven was handing her a perfect opening.
Zheng Xiu Yun stood before her mirror and sharpened her beauty into something dangerous. A newly tailored peach-pink robe hugged her figure. She pressed lip rouge on again and again until her mouth looked red enough to bleed. Her hair rose into a fashionable Liu Yun bun, and ruby earrings swung beside her cheeks, glittering with each breath.
In the mirror, she was pale, lovely, and poisonous.
Satisfied, she stepped out.
Today, she would not fail.
On her way, a few matrons doing chores stole glances and whispered.
“Where is Miss Zheng going dressed like that? Looks like she’s headed to a match.”
“Mmm. What a face, what a figure. She really is a beauty.”
Zheng Xiu Yun heard and felt her pride bloom. She lifted her chin and walked faster.
Ignorant servants. What would they know?
She circled to the rear of the Auspicious Cloud Residence.
The bathhouse door was ajar.
Her heart hammered so hard she could taste it.
She pushed the door open. Steam rushed out, thick with soap-pod scent. Warm mist kissed her cheeks, turning them faintly pink.
Holding her breath, she stepped inside on light feet, slipping past the painted landscape screen.
“Cousin…” she breathed, pinching her voice into honey-sweet shyness.
The next second, a tall figure stepped out from behind the screen.
Lin Qing Xuan’s monk robe hung loose over his shoulders, exposing a broad, solid chest. His dark hair was still wet, droplets sliding down the sharp cut of his collarbone and vanishing into the fabric.
His face held no heat. No desire.
Only ice.
Their eyes met.
The air froze.
His gaze was a blade drawn from a winter river—cold enough to cut flesh.
“Get out.”
Two words, low and flat, yet heavy with crushing pressure.
Zheng Xiu Yun’s smile cracked and stiffened. The color drained from her cheeks as if someone had snuffed a lamp.
Outside, Old Chen Tou jolted at the shout. His water pipe slipped from his hands and hit the ground with a sharp clatter, breaking apart.
In the inner room, Xiao Man sat bolt upright, rubbing one ear.
…The Buddhist Scion just cursed?
Zheng Xiu Yun fled the bathhouse as if chased by a ghost. Her bun came loose. Her earrings swung wildly. A smear of lip rouge streaked to one side. She looked like the ruins of the beauty she’d built.
Head down, she only wanted to escape.
And of course, she ran straight into maids and old maidservants passing by.
“Well, isn’t this Miss Zheng?”
“Oh? Coming out of the Buddhist Scion’s bathhouse, are you?”
“Look at her face—so pale. And her lips are smeared. Did he throw you out?”
“Tsk. Greed has no bottom. Who does she think she is, daring to dream of the Buddhist Scion?”
They spoke in hushed voices, careful not to make a spectacle big enough to drag Lin Qing Xuan into it.
But rumors didn’t need volume. They needed wings.
Within the time it took to burn a stick of incense, the story had spread through the Heir Apparent’s residence.
In the First Madam’s courtyard, a fine celadon teacup shattered against the floor.
“You fool!”
The First Madam pointed at Zheng Xiu Yun kneeling on the ground, chest heaving with rage.
“I told you to get close to Qing Xuan with your brain! Not to strip yourself and make a public disgrace!”
Zheng Xiu Yun sobbed until her whole body shook. “Aunt, I… I didn’t mean it. I only took a wrong turn…”
“A wrong turn?” The First Madam let out a cold laugh, eyes sharp as needles. “The bathhouse in the Auspicious Cloud Residence is tucked away in one corner. Everyone in this residence knows exactly where it is. Do you think others are fools—or do you think I am?”
Matron Zhou stood to the side, hands lowered, watching Zheng Xiu Yun’s tears with a face as calm as stone.
Inside, she thought, [This one’s all ambition and no skill. Compared to Xiao Man… she’s nowhere close.]
In the room’s shadowed corner, black fog gathered without sound.
“Heh heh heh…”
The laughter slid into Zheng Xiu Yun’s ear, sharp and malicious.
“Another one who doesn’t know her place.”
The fog leaned close, whispering so only she could hear.
“You think cheap paint like you can catch the Buddhist Scion’s eye?”
Zheng Xiu Yun nearly cried out. Her mouth opened—
Then she snapped her gaze up and felt cold sweat burst across her back.
There was only the furious First Madam and the indifferent Matron Zhou.
Nothing else.
She shivered hard. For the first time, real fear crept into her bones.
This Heir Apparent’s residence was far more terrifying than she had imagined.
“Go,” the First Madam said at last, voice clipped. “Behave yourself. If you’re lucky, you’ll be allowed to stay a few more days.”
She didn’t throw Zheng Xiu Yun out. Her words were vague, neither mercy nor sentence.
As Zheng Xiu Yun returned to her small courtyard, her thoughts churned: [I was too impatient. I handed them something to talk about. The good impression I built these past days… collapsed in an instant.]
Behind her, unseen, Tuan Tuan drifted in its black fog, following like a shadow.
Above Zheng Xiu Yun’s head rose strands of thick, dirty black qi—desire, greed, hunger. Normally, such filth would be a feast for a devil.
But Tuan Tuan only felt nauseated.
This woman thought she was beautiful. In truth, she wasn’t even close to Xiao Man.
Tuan Tuan grumbled inwardly, [Xiao Man is far more interesting. She fights me, scolds me, points at me when she’s angry… and somehow, I still think she’s cute.]