Chapter 19: The Kiss

Song Qiao could hardly believe her eyes. How could the gold-and-jade-pampered Mu Yi suffer such a grievous injury?

She took a half-step back in disbelief, but her shoulder accidentally struck a potted plant nearby, instantly alerting Mu Yi to her presence. He quickly threw on his robes, his sharp, piercing gaze as lethal as a blade.

"Are the guards at the Exquisite Pavilion all dead? Letting you wander out time and time again."

Song Qiao stood as if frozen by a binding spell, not daring to move. "The Marquis only ordered them to guard the gate; he never said I was under house arrest..."

"Playing word games with me?" Mu Yi chuckled abruptly. The sound was soft, yet it sent shivers down Song Qiao's spine.

Summoning her courage, she volunteered, "The Marquis is severely wounded. If you trust me, I can dress your wounds."

Mu Yi narrowed his eyes. "You know medicine?"

"Not an expert," Song Qiao said with conviction, "but surely better than the Marquis’s own haphazard bandaging."

Mu Yi remained unmoved, watching her with caution. Yet, it was merely a facade; his pale lips betrayed his true state. Song Qiao stepped forward and, disregarding his resistance, pulled at his robes.

Mu Yi gripped her wrist firmly. "Keep your mouth shut. If even a whisper of this leaks out, this time next year will be the anniversary of your death."

"The Marquis can set his heart at ease. Everyone in this manor avoids me like a plague; even if I wanted to speak, no one would listen."

She finished speaking and deftly stripped off his outer garment. Because the wounds had not been treated in time, they were already showing signs of inflammation. It was clear that the assailant had struck with lethal intent; another millimeter deeper, and Mu Yi’s life would have been in peril.

Had he been ambushed in the palace? Song Qiao suppressed the turmoil in her heart and hurried to apply the medicine. The wounds were so deep that even Mu Yi could not maintain his composure; Song Qiao could hear him gritting his teeth.

"Are you doing this on purpose?"

"Short pain is better than long suffering. Bear with it, Marquis."

Song Qiao did not hold back. As she worked, blood soon began to trickle down Mu Yi’s back—a truly shocking sight. Yet, Song Qiao remained unfazed, only leaning in to blow gently on the wound before he could lash out.

After bandaging him, she handed him fresh clothes and decisively threw his blood-stained garments into the brazier to destroy the evidence. With this seamless sequence of actions completed, she performed a formal bow of departure.

"Stop!" Mu Yi called out, finally finding the energy. "You came here looking for me—what for?"

Song Qiao met his gaze and said solemnly, "I originally wanted to thank the Marquis for sending the butler with charcoal and a maid to help me in my time of need. But since I just helped you, we are even; there is no need for thanks."

Her shrewd and direct manner amused him, and the pain seemed to ebb slightly.

He beckoned her over. "Come here."

Song Qiao stepped back instead of forward, looking as if she feared he would burn the bridge after crossing it.

Mu Yi gritted his teeth, enunciating each word: "I'm thirsty. Pour me a cup of water."

"..."

A false alarm. Song Qiao sighed silently, though she couldn't help but grumble inwardly. He was so afraid of worrying Shen Ruoxi that he wouldn't even breathe a word of his injury to her, yet after she helped him, there wasn't a single syllable of thanks—only servitude. The difference between a man in love and one who is not is truly worlds apart.

Resigned to her fate, she brought him the tea. As Mu Yi reached out to take it, he must have tugged at something in his back, for he suddenly hissed in pain.

Thinking she hadn't bandaged him properly, Song Qiao instinctively leaned in to check, but he suddenly tilted his head up without warning. Caught off guard and unable to dodge, her lips brushed against his cheek, leaving a firm, accidental kiss.

At the moment their skin touched, both of them froze in unison.