“You shameless little thief! Hand over the young master’s jade paperweight!”
Jiang Yuting opened his eyes.
Harsh lighting, shattered glass, the pungent smell of gasoline still lingering in his nose—and then everything before him was replaced by moldy wooden furniture. A voice in his mind asked.
Could this be… transmigration?
He’d barely finished dressing and found his footing when four or five burly guards kicked the door open and stormed in, ransacking the place—smashed this, toppled that—even tossing out the stray cat that had been licking its paws on the windowsill.
Soon, there wasn’t a single item left in its proper place, except for the hard bed behind Jiang Yuting.
He wisely stepped aside and made a “go ahead” gesture.
After the bed had been reduced to a pile of splintered planks, the lead guard shouted toward the door: “Steward Luo, it’s all been smashed.”
An old man with graying hair ambled in, casting a sidelong glance at Jiang Yuting. The cold sneer hadn’t faded from his lips before he deftly retrieved something from a fallen cabinet.
A greenish paperweight was thrust right in front of Jiang Yuting’s face: “The evidence is right here. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Evidence?
Even a police dog wouldn’t find evidence that fast, old man.
“Steward Luo…” Jiang Yuting tried to reason with him.
But he was cut off before he could even start: “Nothing to say, huh? Men, tie him up in the wood shed and starve him to death.”
“…”
“Old man,” Jiang Yuting glanced at the paperweight in his hand, “even death has its rules. First, you die with a clear conscience. Second, you die with a full stomach. You can’t just kill a man without even making things clear.”
“Not clear? This was a birthday gift from the late master to the young master. Even the scraps that fell off it are worth a thousand of you. Men, tie him up!”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than another commotion broke out outside the door.
A young woman in a bright red satin jacket walked in, leading several sturdy men.
“Greetings, Second Madam!” The guards stepped aside.
Second Madam had a kind and amiable face, but at this moment she looked somewhat anxious. She stepped forward: “Steward Luo, I went through all that trouble to find a suitable servant for Jingxing—what are you doing?”
Steward Luo lowered his head and smoothed his sleeve, letting out a cold snort through his nose that could curdle milk: “What do you mean by that, Second Madam? You brought a thief into the household. Punishing him is also clearing your name.”
“Preposterous,” Second Madam scolded. “This lad hasn’t even set foot in Jingxing’s room—how could he have stolen anything from him?”
“That’s none of my concern. We’ve caught him red-handed. Now it’s time for him to learn what discipline means.”
With the “sword of authority” in Steward Luo’s hand, Second Madam couldn’t overstep too much. She lowered her voice, trying to find a way out for both sides.
“Steward Luo, I know you want Yuyan to take care of Jingxing, but you also know his temper. So many maids and servants couldn’t catch his eye—why put your own daughter through that hardship?”
Steward Luo shot her a glance: “We servants can’t compare to you, Second Madam. Yuyan has been playing in this household since she was a child. If the First Madam were still here, I’m sure she would have approved.”
Second Madam paused for a moment: “We all know you were entrusted by your late mistress to look after Jingxing. There’s no need to keep bringing it up.”
“How about this—let this boy give it a try first. If it doesn’t work out, then we’ll trouble Miss Yuyan to attend to the young master’s chambers. What do you say?”
Jiang Yuting sat on the splintered bed planks, watching the drama unfold, and immediately realized he’d landed in a household intrigue script—unfortunately, as a cannon-fodder character who could be written off at any moment!
This wasn’t looking good!
Chef Jiang!
Before Steward Luo could respond, a young maid’s voice came from outside: “Oh no, oh no—the young master has fallen out of bed!”
……
Before he had time to think it over, the two groups merged into one and raced through a large garden as if competing, arriving at a secluded courtyard.
The room at the end was brightly lit, its door half-shut, making it impossible to see what was happening inside.
Second Madam hurried to the doorway, still catching her breath, and called into the room: “Jingxing, what’s wrong? Let your Second Aunt come in and see you, alright?”
“Get out!”
A voice came from inside—full of fury, yet lacking in strength.
Toxic pathogen invading the interior!
That was Jiang Yuting’s first thought upon hearing the voice.
Chef Jiang had studied traditional Chinese medicine for a while to make medicinal meals. Though he’d never actually diagnosed anyone, he was still better than those quacks who’d ask the patient where it hurt while taking their pulse.
From the young master’s voice alone, he could tell it was a case of Yang deficiency and blood weakness caused by years of accumulated toxins.
“Young master,” Steward Luo walked to the door, “let Old Luo come in and help you up. The floor is cold—don’t catch a chill!”
The young master inside seemed to be straining against something, his voice trembling: “No one… is allowed in.”
Those words seemed like a royal decree. Silence fell instantly outside the door. Second Madam and Steward Luo shook their heads helplessly, standing guard at the entrance like two clay statues.
……
Half an hour passed. The room fell silent. Outside, people were sprawled all over the place. Jiang Yuting, wearing only a thin shirt, shivered violently in the cold night wind.
How much longer did he have to wait?
He glanced toward the doorway. Second Madam had already wrapped herself in a cloak, hugging a hand warmer, seated on a chair brought by a servant.
Steward Luo had simply vanished.
It looked like they were all waiting for something.
Jiang Yuting peered into the room.
The stubborn young master was still lying on the floor, wearing only a thin shirt just like him.
It felt like they were all just waiting for him to die!
But this man couldn’t die!
If the young master died, what use would a servant be? He’d end up thrown out to who knows where.
Jiang Yuting strode forward, charged into the room, and with a mix of dragging and hauling, got the half-frozen young master back onto the bed.
Before he could even get a good look at his face, he heard someone shout from outside: “You fool! What do you think you’re doing?”
Jiang Yuting poured himself a cup of water, brought it to his lips, then set it back down: “What am I doing? The young master was calling for someone. You were all standing out there like blocks of wood, not a single one coming in to help.”
“The young master is awake?” Second Madam came over upon hearing this.
“He’s awake.” Jiang Yuting answered, then smiled toward the bed.
“That’s good,” Second Madam lowered her gaze for a moment, as if relieved. “You’ll stay here tonight to attend to him. Be attentive.”
After the whole crowd had left, Jiang Yuting finally went to the bedside and turned the stubborn young master over to get a look at him.
High nose bridge, sharp features, quite handsome—but pitifully thin.
He reached out and placed his fingers on the young master’s wrist.
Toxic pathogen lurking within, vital energy depleted. Lying on that cold floor for so long had also brought on a slight fever. He needed to get some water into him.
Jiang Yuting looked around the room, his gaze landing on that cup of tea.
Peach kernel water!
Peach kernels were cold in nature and promoted blood circulation. Long-term consumption would damage the body’s yang energy. Given how gaunt and weak this young master looked, if he kept drinking this, he’d end up nothing but bones.
He went to the table and grabbed two tangerines, mashed the flesh into a tea cup, then gently parted the young master’s lips and dripped the juice in bit by bit.
Half a cup down, Xie Jingxing finally showed a reaction—but the moment he opened his eyes, he suddenly struggled violently.
Clang— the little juice that remained spilled all over the floor.
“Hey hey hey, don’t move,” Jiang Yuting pressed him down on the bed. “Young Master Jingxing, right? This is tangerine juice—no poison, I promise, relax.”
Xie Jingxing hadn’t left this room since he was twelve. Servants and maids came and went in wave after wave, but no one had ever dared to utter the word “poison” in front of him.
He quieted down, staring straight at the person before him.
Red lips, white teeth, peach-blossom eyes—though dressed in a servant’s uniform, he surprisingly lacked the fawning, sycophantic air of a typical servant.
Xie Jingxing asked: “What did you say?”
Jiang Yuting flashed what he hoped was a friendly smile: “I said you have a fever. Drinking some tangerine juice will rehydrate you.”
“Just now, you said—poison?”
“Peach kernel water,” Jiang Yuting pointed at the table. “It’s not exactly poison, but with your current physical condition, if you keep drinking that, you probably won’t last much longer.”
“What’s wrong with my body?” Xie Jingxing lay flat on his back. Though his tone had softened somewhat, there was still an air of condescending scrutiny.
Jiang Yuting walked over to the table, sat down, and slowly peeled a tangerine: “Your pulse is weak and erratic—sometimes fast, sometimes slow. It’s clearly a symptom of poisoning. And the cold and heat conflict within you, the imbalance of supplementation and purging—sometimes hot and dry, sometimes cold and weak. You’d need at least eight or ten different poisons to end up like this.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“No,” Jiang Yuting popped a segment of tangerine into his mouth. “I’ve read a few medical texts, but I’ve never treated anyone. You’re perfectly welcome to think I’m talking nonsense.”
After swallowing the tangerine flesh, he continued: “But, young master—if you weren’t suspicious that there was poison in your food, why would you starve yourself to the point of looking so gaunt and sallow?”
When he’d taken Xie Jingxing’s pulse just now, he’d noticed that although the young master had accumulated toxins over the years, the medicines he’d been given weren’t lethal. Half the reason his qi and blood were so depleted and he was severely dehydrated was… starvation!
“Who exactly are you?” Xie Jingxing asked.
“Me?” Jiang Yuting popped the last segment of tangerine into his mouth. “What if I said I’m an immortal sent down from heaven to save you? Would you believe me?”
Xie Jingxing let out a cold snort and closed his eyes.
“That’s not very polite, young master.” Jiang Yuting walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. “Let’s sort this out. First, I’ve never harmed you. Second, I picked you up off the floor so you wouldn’t freeze to death. And most importantly—in this deep, sprawling estate, who else besides me can help you?”
“You help me?” Xie Jingxing’s expression suggested he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world. “A mere personal servant—how exactly do you plan to help me?”
The word “personal” was emphasized, carrying a distinctly suggestive undertone.
Jiang Yuting paused for a moment: “Young master, I don’t fully understand the rules here, and I can’t explain what happened before. But from now on, I want to stand on your side.”
“Why?” Xie Jingxing opened his eyes.
“Because when the rabbit dies, the hound gets cooked. If you die, I’ll be left to wander the streets. So let’s make a gentleman’s agreement—I save your life, and you guarantee me a life of food and clothing. How about it?”
Xie Jingxing let out another cold laugh: “I’m a fallen young master who can barely save himself. How could I possibly guarantee you a life of food and clothing?”
The young master had a handsome, chiseled face, but there was still a hint of youthful immaturity and petulance in his brows. Speaking in that tone, he reminded Jiang Yuting inexplicably of his own sensitive, rebellious younger brother back home.
He must be a few years younger than my brother.
Jiang Yuting smiled: “Didn’t Steward Luo just say that a thousand of me wouldn’t be worth your jade paperweight? Don’t worry—I’m way cheaper than that thing!”
“So you do know you’re worthless.” Xie Jingxing closed his eyes again.
“…I may be worthless, but your life, young master, is priceless. So—one word: deal or no deal?”
Xie Jingxing turned to the side: “Let’s see how you perform!”
“…”
Why was it that even after being reborn, he still couldn’t escape rebellious teenagers?
TOC | More chapters later
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