Chapter 9
Chapter 9: Handsome Men Ruin You
Xiao Man knelt on the cold blue bricks, nails digging into her palms until pain bit sharp and clean.
Old Madam’s words fell like an iron gate.
With a single clang, they crushed the hope she’d carried for eight years—along with every careful plan she’d built around it.
A transfer?
What a pretty phrase.
Transferred to the Auspicious Cloud Residence—into the Buddhist Scion Eldest Young Master’s courtyard.
That was no different than washing a lamb, tying a ribbon around its throat, and delivering it straight to a wolf.
And her boss was the one doing the delivery.
A thousand words clogged her throat. A hot fury surged from her soles to the crown of her head.
She wanted to slam her hand on the table and shout into Old Madam’s face: I’m done.
But reason pinned her down, hard.
The contract she’d signed—warm ink on white paper—pressed like an invisible weight on her spine. Forget standing upright. Even breathing felt like a luxury.
It was a living contract, not a death sentence, but the words were still there in black and white: the master household could reassign her as needed.
When your boss stamps your transfer with her own hand, what can a signed-up servant do?
Hand in a resignation letter?
Fire Old Madam, the chairwoman of the manor?
A joke. A joke so big it made her want to laugh and scream at once.
Her contract wasn’t even in her own hands. What freedom could she talk about?
Humiliation.
The kind that swelled until it threatened to burst her chest.
All because of that damned dream.
And because of that Buddhist Scion who looked so pure in daylight—yet in her dream held her like a starving beast.
Xiao Man gritted her teeth.
It had been ridiculous, unreal. She’d blamed some spirit mischief, some filthy trick.
In the dream, they’d tangled and tumbled; awake, they should have been strangers.
She’d even secretly congratulated herself.
A steamy dream didn’t cost anything. If anything, she’d gotten a free taste of a top-tier beauty—face so perfect it belonged on a shrine.
And then—
The “beauty” himself had stepped forward and claimed it.
Not only that—he wore the expression of a man wronged, as if he were some virtuous husband whose purity had been stained.
You dirtied me. You take responsibility.
The memory of Old Madam’s knowing, measuring gaze—and Lin Qing Xuan’s light, casual ask—made Xiao Man’s face burn as if invisible hands had slapped her again and again.
And that look of his before he left…
Hurt? Heartbroken?
Pah.
Xiao Man’s fury flared hotter.
What right did he have to act holy and wounded?
In the dream, who was the one who wouldn’t let her go?
Who was the one pressing against her, whispering her name again and again in her ear, as if it belonged to him?
She couldn’t think about it—
A chill swept over her.
Sweat broke out across her back in fine, cold beads.
A worse thought slid into her mind like a venomous snake.
Old Madam might still press the matter down, for the sake of these years.
But what if First Madam knew?
That First Madam who longed for her son to marry, to have heirs, who cherished Lin Qing Xuan like her own eyes.
If she discovered that a lowly maid had “tainted” her almost-Buddha son in a dream…
Xiao Man’s vision went black in waves.
She could already see it: First Madam’s well-kept face twisting with rage and disgust.
A pig cage?
Beaten to death with clubs?
Sold to the filthiest brothel, made to suffer until she begged for death and couldn’t find it?
Those would be the light punishments.
Fear—cold as winter vines—wrapped around her heart and squeezed.
It drowned every last bit of her anger and pride.
Freedom, leaving the manor, saving silver to buy herself out… beside survival, it all turned flimsy and laughable.
What mattered now was sealing the breach.
This could not reach First Madam’s ears.
Absolutely not.
“Old Madam!”
Xiao Man threw herself down. Her forehead slammed into the cold tiles with a dull, heavy crack.
Bang.
When she lifted her head, her eyes were red to the rims.
It wasn’t an act.
She was desperate. Terrified. Clinging to the only lifeline left.
“This servant… this servant begs Old Madam for mercy!”
Her voice shook, thick with tears, and she forced every word to sound earnest enough to save her life.
“This servant knows her place is low, her looks are nothing. How could this servant dare—how could this servant dare to hold even the slightest improper thought toward Eldest Young Master?”
“Eldest Young Master’s Buddha light shines on all. He is as clear as moonlight, clean as a breeze—someone this servant could never reach even if I spent my whole life looking up!”
She shook her head hard, as if she could shake the accusation right off her skin.
“What happened today… it was an accident. This servant was confused, truly. This servant doesn’t even know why Eldest Young Master took notice, disturbed his quiet cultivation. This servant… this servant deserves death a thousand times!”
She drew a harsh breath and trampled her own dignity into the dirt, lowering herself as far as she could.
“For years this servant has served Old Madam in the Green Reed Courtyard. Though stupid and clumsy, this servant has always been careful—never daring to slack, never daring to make mistakes.”
“Old Madam is kind and generous to those below. This servant remembers it all. This servant only wishes to serve you well, to repay your heaven-great grace.”
“Today… today was not what this servant wanted. This servant dares not think of climbing upward, not even for a breath. This servant only begs Old Madam—only begs Old Madam to consider that this servant has been diligent these years and never made a great error…”
Xiao Man bowed again, and this time she pressed her forehead to the floor and didn’t lift it.
The cold stone against her skin couldn’t cool the panic in her chest.
Her voice turned hoarse, squeezed out of her throat.
“Please, Old Madam… for now… for now, do not tell First Madam about this!”
“This servant is truly terrified. This servant is lowly—death would be nothing. But if this angers First Madam and harms the bond between you and First Madam, this servant would never be forgiven even in a hundred deaths!”
“Please, Old Madam, have pity!”
“Please, Old Madam… give this servant a way to live!”
She lay prostrate, her body trembling like a leaf caught in a storm.
All her grievance and rage were crushed beneath something stronger: the raw hunger to survive.
Eight years of caution. Eight years of walking on thin ice. The light of freedom had finally been in sight.
She couldn’t let it be ruined by this ridiculous truth—
Handsome men ruin you.
Old Madam was all she had left. The last straw in her hand.
The room sank back into silence.
Only one sound remained—soft, steady, unsettling.
Scrape… scrape…
Old Madam’s nails, slow and patient, dragging again and again over the carved copper patterns of the hand warmer.