Chapter 6
Chapter 6: Buddha, Does Your Salvation Include My Marriage Too?
Afraid?
One word—like a branding iron—pressed itself into Xiao Man’s heart.
She wasn’t afraid of him.
She was afraid of the version of herself that kept winding around him in dreams—shameless, untamed, reckless enough to forget her own skin.
And she was afraid of the man in front of her: the one who had seen every ugly thing she tried to bury, yet still wore compassion like a spotless robe.
At the end of fear waited a shame deep enough to drown in.
Xiao Man’s knees went soft. She dropped hard to the ground, her forehead striking the icy bluestone with a heavy thud.
“This servant… is guilty.”
That was all she could say.
Lin Qing Xuan closed his book with a quiet snap.
In the dead-still courtyard, it sounded like a verdict.
He rose. The hem of his monk’s robe brushed the earth and stirred a whisper of dust. Step by step, he crossed the space between them and stopped.
Dark cloth shoes filled Xiao Man’s lowered view.
“What is your sin?”
His voice came from above, flat and cold, like he was questioning a stranger.
Xiao Man trembled harder.
Her sin was coveting her master—dreaming of him, doing things in those dreams she could never speak aloud.
How could she say it?
“Won’t say it?”
He crouched. Cold fingers caught her chin and forced her face up.
His touch was ice.
He made her look into his eyes.
There was no mercy there now. Only ink-black depth, and a thin thread of… interest.
“Then I’ll say it for you.”
He leaned close to her ear. His breath skimmed her skin, and her whole body shivered as if struck.
“Last night at Zi hour, you clung to my neck and said you liked me.”
“At Chou hour, you pulled open my collar and said you wanted to see me lose myself for you.”
“At Yin hour…”
“Stop!”
Xiao Man finally broke. The scream tore out of her, raw and cracking.
That wasn’t a dream.
Every detail was too sharp. Every word felt newly spoken, as if it still clung to her tongue.
Lin Qing Xuan released her. The faint amusement in his gaze deepened into something darker.
He stood and looked down at her sprawled on the stones, as if she were something small and crushed.
“So you remember.”
He laughed softly. The sound was colder than crying.
“I thought you’d forgotten.”
He turned back to the armchair and sat again, wearing that gentle, pitying mask as if he had never moved at all.
“Tomorrow, come to my room and grind ink.”
Xiao Man snapped her head up, disbelief washing her face clean.
What did he mean?
“You refuse?”
He still didn’t look at her, yet his voice lowered—frost creeping into every syllable.
Her heart clenched.
She bit her lip until the sting cut through the fog in her mind.
If it was only a dream, why admit anything?
If she denied it—denied it to death—what could he truly do?
Just now she had panicked and blurted out guilty like an idiot.
What guilt?
A spring dream wasn’t a crime.
Xiao Man shook her head.
“This servant serves in Old Madam’s courtyard. Eldest Young Master, the Auspicious Cloud Residence has always used male servants. For this servant to go would break the rules.”
She dragged herself up, staggered back, then turned and fled—fast as a startled rabbit.
Back in Old Madam’s courtyard, her heart still thundered like hooves.
She found Xiu He under the corridor, bent over her needlework.
“Sister Xiu He, in a little while my contract will be up and I can leave the residence. This… it won’t change, right? There won’t be any trouble?”
Xiu He paused, needle hovering. “Why are you in such a hurry to go? It’s quiet here with Old Madam, and the monthly silver is better than elsewhere. Treat it as easy work. Besides, you’re not even rushing to marry.”
Marriage.
The word lit Xiao Man’s mind like a lamp.
She knocked her own forehead once, then wrapped both hands around Xiu He’s arm.
“Sister Xiu He, you’re my great benefactor!”
“Sister, I won’t hide it. My aunt and uncle already found me a match. He’s my uncle’s student—good character, and even Zhou Zheng. His family has a few thin acres. He’s just waiting for me to leave.”
She lied without blinking, but her expression was shy and bright, as if she truly held a small future in her palms.
“Could you speak to Old Madam for me? For the sake of my filial heart… could she let me out a little earlier?”
Xiu He’s gaze slid over Xiao Man’s shoulder. She abruptly stood.
“Eldest Young Master, why are you here? This servant will report to Old Madam at once.”
All the blood drained from Xiao Man’s face.
Eldest Young Master?
Wasn’t he supposed to be secluded in the Auspicious Cloud Residence, reading sutras?
She didn’t dare turn around. “I’ll go report it,” she threw out, and bolted as if her feet had been greased.
Xiu He watched her disappear and dipped in a quick bow. “Eldest Young Master, please don’t take offense. Xiao Man isn’t usually like this.”
Lin Qing Xuan’s face remained calm, but his gaze stayed fixed on the direction Xiao Man fled, unmoving for a long time.
After reporting, Xiao Man immediately shoved herself into a storeroom and hid.
She begged her roommate Dong Chun to serve tea for her.
“My monthly bleeding started. My belly hurts terribly.”
Dong Chun pinched her cheek. “My good sister, you’ve become awfully skilled at dodging work. What—because you think you’re about to leave, you don’t want to do anything anymore?”
She lowered her voice, teasing. “Fine, fine. But when you go, bring us sweet pickled garlic. We’re good sisters, aren’t we?”
Outside, Xiu He’s voice urged, sharp with impatience. “What are you dawdling for? Hurry up and brew tea. Eldest Young Master is waiting!”
Dong Chun went out with the tray, light on her feet.
The storeroom door swung shut, leaving only a thin crack of dim light.
Old wood and dust hung in the air, making Xiao Man’s throat itch.
She pressed her ear to the door and forgot how to breathe.
In the courtyard, Dong Chun’s voice rang bright. “Eldest Young Master, please have tea.”
Silence.
Xiao Man’s heart climbed into her throat.
Then Lin Qing Xuan spoke, emotionless. “Where is Xiao Man?”
“Sister Xiao Man… she isn’t feeling well, so this servant came for her.” Dong Chun’s voice wavered.
“Oh? What ails her?”
“Just… a woman’s trouble. Her belly hurts.”
“Is that so.”
Two words, cold as deep winter.
“The manor hired a doctor two days ago, skilled in women’s ailments.”
His voice was unhurried, but it fell like a net over their heads.
“Xiu He, invite the doctor. Have Xiao Man examined properly. A master showing care for servants is only right.”
Xiu He’s reply came strained. “…Yes, Eldest Young Master.”
Footsteps moved—Xiu He leaving to fetch the doctor.
No.
If the doctor came, the lie would shatter.
And then it wouldn’t be as simple as grinding ink.
Xiao Man’s mind buzzed, blank and loud.
She yanked the door open and rushed out.
Everyone in the courtyard turned at once. Dong Chun and Xiu He stared, stunned.
Lin Qing Xuan turned slowly.
He stood there, calm as ever, as if he’d known exactly where she hid.
“You may all leave.”
Five words.
Xiu He and Dong Chun bowed and hurried away as if pardoned.
The courtyard emptied until only the two of them remained.
He walked toward her and stopped.
Those same dark cloth shoes—exactly what she’d seen when she kowtowed.
“Does your belly still hurt?”
Xiao Man stood rigid, blood turning to ice.
His hand lifted.
She flinched back.
But his hand paused, then drifted to her face instead. Cold fingertips brushed her split lip.
“This hurts too?”
He was close—too close. His cool sandalwood scent wrapped around her like a cage.
“I heard you’re getting married.”
Xiao Man’s pupils tightened.
He heard it. Every word.
“Your uncle’s student?” He laughed softly, but the sound held no warmth. “If he’s such a fine young man, then I should meet him.”
His fingertip traced her lip line, light and insolent, yet carrying a pressure she couldn’t escape.
“One day I’ll invite him to the manor for tea.”
Xiao Man began to shake.
“Let him see with his own eyes…”
He paused, then leaned to her ear, voice low as a Devil’s whisper.
“…how you serve me.”