“Do I look like her?”
Xie Yushu stopped in front of Cang Shu under the hazy moonlight and asked him.
Cang Shu nodded instinctively.
He couldn’t quite put it into words, but it wasn’t just about appearance—even the way she looked up seemed the same.
“This is called professionalism. Every copper coin I earn is worth it,” Xie Yushu said bluntly to him.
Cang Shu froze for a moment, then understood, and quickly took out two Silver Notes to hand to Xie Yushu.
“Two thousand taels in Silver Notes. Xie Miss, please check.”
Xie Yushu didn’t take them herself.
Her Assistant, Jin Ye, accepted them on her behalf, checked them, and nodded at her, indicating the amount was correct.
He’s got the right idea.
Cang Shu hurried back to the Prime Minister’s Mansion at full speed.
Seeing how anxious he was, Xie Yushu was sure that Song Jie’s condition today must be even worse than yesterday.
Even the Da Ao Dog was whining anxiously at the door today.
When it saw Xie Yushu, it didn’t bark at her, but instead turned to lead the way, slipping into the room and whining inside, as if calling her in.
Xie Yushu still left Jin Ye outside.
When she entered and saw Song Jie lying on the couch, he looked utterly wretched.
“What happened to his hands?”
Today, Song Jie didn’t just feel cold like a corpse—both his palms were covered in huge blisters from burns, some of which had burst and were oozing blood.
It looked painful just to see.
“When Prime Minister’s illness flared, he grabbed the red-hot brazier himself,” Cang Shu said in a low voice, then went to fetch a bowl of medicine for Xie Yushu to feed Song Jie.
Xie Yushu sat down and turned Song Jie’s face toward her.
She saw that even his lower lip was bitten through, his mouth full of blood, and his entire body was taut, enduring the bone-chilling pain of the Fever Poison.
“It won’t go down this way.”
Xie Yushu remembered the original script: only the female lead, Xie Jia Ning’s, body warmth could ease Song Jie’s icy pain.
But from her last experience, she realized that any human warmth would work—the Fever Poison couldn’t tell who the female lead was.
Xie Yushu gave Cang Shu a direct order.
“Take off your outer robe.”
Cang Shu was stunned for a moment.
“Take it off and get on the bed. Hold Song Jie’s feet in your arms,” Xie Yushu urged, taking the medicine from his hands.
“Me?”
Cang Shu had clearly never had such close contact with another man, let alone undressed in front of others.
He stood there stiffly, his ears turning red, not knowing what to do.
“If not you, then should I do it?”
Xie Yushu shot him a glance, thinking to herself: No matter how much you pay me, I’m not doing this kind of thing.
Cang Shu’s face grew even redder.
He braced himself and stammered, “Xie Miss…could you turn around?”
Only then did Xie Yushu notice that his lowered face was nearly crimson—rather cute, actually.
She turned around, deliberately saying, “There’s no other way to save him. Cang Shu, don’t overthink it. Once we leave this room, we’ll pretend nothing happened.”
It would’ve been better if she hadn’t said anything.
Saying it like this only made the atmosphere even more awkward.
Cang Shu’s hands, untying his belt, felt like they were on fire.
His throat was hot and itchy.
He lowered his voice even further.
“Understood, Xie Miss. Rest assured, I…I won’t let a third person know.”
He gritted his teeth and quickly took off his outer robe, then turned sideways onto the bed, tucking Song Jie’s icy feet into his arms.
Only after pulling his inner robe closed did he say quietly, “Xie Miss, you may turn around now.”
Xie Yushu slowly turned back and saw Cang Shu sitting at the foot of the bed, blushing like a cooked shrimp.
He hung his head, not daring to look at her at all.
But under the black inner robe, his neck and chest…the longer she stared, the redder he became.
She hadn’t expected someone who looked so lean to actually have such a well-defined figure.
The atmosphere was just right.
She pulled out a small white porcelain medicine bottle from her sleeve and set it beside Cang Shu’s hand.
“It’s ointment for bruises and injuries.”
Cang Shu froze, his gaze slowly moving from the tiny bottle to Xie Yushu.
Xie Yushu had already sat back beside the bed, pulling Song Jie’s hand onto her lap, lowering her head to carefully clean the blood seeping from his palm with a cotton swab.
Her voice was very soft.
“Apply it, and the swelling will go down faster.”
For him?
The subtle redness and swelling at the corner of Cang Shu’s lips suddenly felt very noticeable.
He looked down again at the little medicine bottle.
It was new—
Xie Miss had bought it especially for him…
He was just a servant.
Other than the Prime Minister, no one had ever cared about his life or death, but Xie Miss remembered even a slap mark on his face.
His throat burned, and as he gripped the bottle, a warm current surged through his body.
It took him a long time to finally squeeze out a hoarse, raspy, “Thank you.”
“Congratulations, Host, you’ve gained 1 Heartthrob Value from Cang Shu,” the Heartthrob System Interface chimed in her mind.
A bottle of ointment worth just a few Copper Coins for 1 point of Heartthrob Value—
Xie Yushu was very satisfied with this exchange rate.
She said no more, carefully reapplying Burn Ointment to Song Jie.
The room was silent, only the sound of Panpan panting could be heard.
It squatted by the bed, keeping watch over Song Jie, panting with its tongue out from the heat.
It was the height of summer, and the room was already stuffy.
After Song Jie’s attack, two braziers were lit.
Before long, Cang Shu noticed Xie Yushu’s flushed cheeks, a thin sheen of sweat on her nose, and droplets sliding down her chin.
Her black hair clung to her fair neck…
He looked away, wanting to ask if Xie Yushu needed some tea to cool off, when the pair of feet in his arms suddenly moved.
A low, pained moan came from between Song Jie’s tightly clenched lips.
“Come help me lift his head,” Xie Yushu said to Cang Shu.
“He should be able to swallow now.”
Cang Shu quickly got off the bed and reached out to support the Prime Minister’s head, only to realize that his inner robe had fallen open as he bent over.
Xie Yushu couldn’t help but glance at him, catching sight of his chest muscles, abdominal muscles, and a scar…
“Sorry, Xie Miss.”
He hurriedly grabbed his robe with his other hand, his body temperature soaring as if he had a fever.
“No matter,” Xie Yushu replied, putting on a straight face.
She pried open Song Jie’s mouth and, taking advantage of his semi-conscious state, poured the entire bowl of medicine down his throat, causing him to cough violently.
Xie Yushu reached out to support his back, letting him lean against her shoulder and gently patted his back to help him breathe.
“Don’t spit it out, drink it and you’ll feel better.”
In the dim candlelight, a few strands of her hair had come loose.
Cang Shu suddenly felt that, in this moment, she looked nothing like Miss Jia Ning.
Miss Jia Ning was a sheltered young lady, but right now, Xie Yushu’s lowered gaze, illuminated by candlelight, made her seem like a gentle elder sister, like a compassionate Madonna…
“Host, you’ve gained another 1 Heartthrob Value from Cang Shu,” the System chimed in.
Xie Yushu looked up at Cang Shu in surprise.
Cang Shu quickly averted his gaze, picked up his outer robe and belt from the floor, and escaped to the outer room to get dressed.
The inner chamber was quiet, with only Song Jie’s coughing and Xie Yushu’s gentle soothing.
Under Xie Yushu’s hand, Song Jie gradually calmed down.
His face shifted, pressing against the warmth of Xie Yushu’s damp neck.
So warm…
His icy feet were warm, the neck he touched was warm, and there was an unusually warm hand stroking his back, holding him in an embrace.
His frozen chest was pressed against a hot body, like clinging to a brazier, the heat continuously enveloping his cold body, thawing him from his bones.
Even the pain that had seeped into his marrow gradually eased under her gentle touch…
It was unbelievably warm.
“You’ll feel better after drinking the medicine,” her voice murmured right beside his ear.
He had never heard such a gentle voice before.
Even his own mother had never comforted him so tenderly.
He didn’t even think it was a dream, because people rarely dream of things they’ve never experienced.
He couldn’t even dream of such a gentle voice…
He clung to that body, pressing his face close, rubbing against the dampness there… like tears.
Was she crying?
Was she crying for him?
He could feel his feet again.
Just now…was she the one warming his feet?
In his daze, he heard that gentle voice call him, “Little Daoist, let go and lie down…Let me help you lie down, all right?”
Jia Ning?
Had Jia Ning ever spoken to him so gently?
He couldn’t find such a Jia Ning in his muddled mind.
The warm hand left his back, trying to pry his arm—when had he wrapped it around her?—from around her.
“Let go, Little Daoist, you’re too heavy. Let me help you lie down…”
She coaxed him softly for a couple of sentences, but then lost patience and suddenly changed her tone: “Let go of me, Song Jie.”
She pushed him forcefully onto the bed, and he hit the bed frame with a dull “thud”.
“Prime Minister?”
Cang Shu’s voice called from outside.
He groaned in pain, as if startled awake from a dream, and struggled to open his eyes.
He saw a flushed face—there was a flash of surprise on that face, quickly replaced by worry, so quickly he thought he’d imagined it.
“Little Daoist, you’re awake?”
Those warm hands came to cradle his head, gently placing it on the pillow.
“Don’t move around, what if you bump your head?”
He caught a faint scent of sandalwood and blinked, gradually seeing the person in front of him more clearly.
“Jia Ning?”
In the candlelight, the person before him wore a blue Daoist robe, hair tied up, eyes slightly red as if she’d just cried.
Wasn’t this the Jia Ning who once stayed at the Daoist temple?
He couldn’t believe it.
He reached out to touch her face, but his wrist was gently caught.
“Don’t move, your hand is burned.”
She frowned slightly, holding his hand up for him to see, her tone a girl’s gentle reproach: “Look at what you’ve done to yourself. Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Doesn’t it hurt to hurt yourself like this?”
Years ago, Jia Ning had also stopped him from self-harm like this, looking at him with red eyes, both distressed and worried.
Song Jie stared blankly at that face, until he noticed the small mole on her nose and finally realized—she wasn’t Jia Ning.
“Xie…Yushu?”
It was like being struck by lightning.
Was it Xie Yushu who’d just held him?
Was it Xie Yushu who’d warmed his feet?
Were those tears on her face for him?
Was it pity?
He stared at her in disbelief and repeated her name, “It’s you…Xie Yushu?”
She paused for a moment, the frown on her brow relaxing, the tenderness in her eyes vanishing instantly.
“It’s me.”
Her warm hand left his wrist, and she slowly tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“It looks like Song Prime Minister has made it through another attack and is fully awake.”
In the blink of an eye, she “changed her face,” turning cold and indifferent.
She even shifted her gaze away from him and looked at Cang Shu.
“Then I should be going.”
She had barely finished speaking before she got up from the bed to leave, without a hint of hesitation.
Song Jie stared, watching her blue robe sleeve slip away from him.
Almost instinctively, he reached out to grab her, but as soon as he touched her he snapped awake and forced himself to pull back.
That was Xie Yushu, not Jia Ning.
He warned himself, but couldn’t help speaking.
“Is two thousand taels so easy to earn?”
As soon as he said it, he coughed, icy air stabbing into his chest as if all the braziers had been taken away and he was about to fall back into the cold.
No, he didn’t want that.
“Xie Yushu.”
He called her name hoarsely.
Xie Yushu stopped and looked back at him.
Song Jie raised his head and met her cold gaze.
For a moment, he was confused—was the person who had just gently comforted him really Xie Yushu?
Was the person who’d seemed so much like Jia Ning just now actually Xie Yushu?
How could a person change so much in the blink of an eye?
“I want to buy an hour of your time,” Song Jie said.
He wanted to see for himself, while he was still clear-headed, how she “acted.”
“Aren’t you fond of money? I want you to play Jia Ning for one more hour.”
He tried his best to sound contemptuous, reminding her that he only saw her as a stand-in.
And reminding himself—she was Xie Yushu, the one making money by impersonating Jia Ning.
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.