Song Jie tried to find some trace of humiliation or anger on her face, or at least the timid caution she used to have.
But she stood a few steps away, showing not a hint of anger.
Instead, she smiled lightly and spoke with a casual tone, “Sure, but since you suddenly requested this, it counts as overtime—five thousand silver taels per hour.”
Five thousand taels per hour?
She really dared to ask for that.
Renting out the whole Fan Tower for a year cost only ten thousand taels—was she really that desperate for money, that fond of it?
Was she willing to pretend to be someone else, even warm someone’s feet, just for money?
“Five thousand taels is nothing.”
Song Jie propped himself up, looking her over from head to toe with a scornful gaze.
“As long as you can resemble Jia Ning enough.”
She didn’t answer immediately, standing a few steps away, gazing at him for a few seconds before sighing as if compromising, “Alright, then I’ll stay with you a bit longer. But open all the windows.”
She frowned and complained, “This room is like a steamer—I’m about to die from the heat.”
Song Jie stared at her in disbelief.
Every little expression she made just now was exactly like Jia Ning’s—even her tone and words when complaining were identical.
When Jia Ning was sixteen, she always liked to say “I’m dying from the heat,” “I’m dying from exhaustion,” or “I’m scared to death.”
How did she know these things?
How could someone instantly “change faces” and become another person?
She walked toward the window, strands of hair sticking to her flushed cheeks, looking truly overheated as she reached out to push open the window.
Cang Shu hurried over and called softly, “Xie Miss.”
He reached out to hold the window she was about to push open, quickly averting his gaze from her face and whispering even softer, “The Prime Minister can’t be exposed to wind when he’s ill.”
She stood in front of Cang Shu, her fingers still resting directly on the back of his hand.
“What are you afraid of? I’m here, aren’t I?”
Cang Shu jerked his hand away as if burned.
Song Jie clearly saw his ears flush red in an instant.
He stood stiffly under the window, as if his soul had left his body, gripping the fingers that Xie Yushu had touched, completely motionless.
Only then did Song Jie notice that Cang Shu’s always-neat belt had a fold tucked behind his waist, as if he’d hastily tied it and hadn’t had time to smooth it out.
That was odd.
Cang Shu was always meticulous whenever he appeared before him—why was his belt so messy today?
And why was he just standing there frozen?
Shouldn’t he have rudely pushed Xie Yushu away and stopped her?
Xie Yushu opened all the windows.
The night breeze blew in, ruffling her loose hair and robe sleeves, and also made Song Jie cough violently.
Cang Shu snapped out of his daze and hurried to close the windows, but Xie Yushu said, “Don’t close them.”
While he hesitated, Xie Yushu had already walked quickly to the bedside, lowered the dark blue bed curtains, and gently asked Song Jie, “Can’t you have even a little wind? Is it really that uncomfortable?”
The icy chill in Song Jie’s chest was stirred up again.
He coughed painfully, lifting his head to glare at Xie Yushu with anger, but met a face full of guilt, her eyes drooping slightly, making her look like a pitiful little puppy or kitten.
“I didn’t know you felt so bad.”
She reached inside the bed curtains to gently rub his shaking back.
“I’m sorry, Song Elder Brother, I’ve never taken care of anyone before. Tell me, how should I look after you to make you feel better?”
Her palm was warm as it stroked his frozen back.
Both his body and heart trembled as he stared at her, his brows slowly knitting together.
“How…do you know those words?”
Jia Ning had once said the exact same thing—almost word for word.
She had also called him “Song Elder Brother” for the first time out of guilt.
How could this be a coincidence?
How did Xie Yushu know all these things?
“Stop talking.”
Xie Yushu interrupted him, then quickly added, “You’ll cough even worse.”
She hurriedly tucked the quilt around him, sat by his side, and began to gently rub his cold arm, leaning in close and asking, “Does this feel a bit better?”
Song Jie looked quietly at her.
He was fully awake, but the closer she got, the more alive those Jia Ning-like expressions became on her face.
It really felt as if Jia Ning still cared about him like this.
In fact, Song Jie knew very well that ever since Jia Ning reunited with Imperial Prince Xiao Zhen, she had grown to dislike him more and more.
The better Jia Ning treated Xiao Zhen, the more Song Jie hated Xiao Zhen, tormenting him even more.
It was only after Jia Ning broke with him for Xiao Zhen’s sake that Song Jie realized Jia Ning had already fallen for Xiao Zhen…
Song Jie thought bitterly: Even if Jia Ning really came back, she would never care for him like this again.
She would only hate him together with Xiao Zhen.
“Are you still cold?”
Xie Yushu gently touched his cheek with the back of her hand, frowning even more.
“Why are you still so icy?”
Song Jie stared at her without blinking, only to realize, even more bitterly, that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her face.
He couldn’t suppress the longing in his heart to draw closer to her.
He yearned for that warm hand to touch him, for her heated body to embrace him, for that more caring, gentler “Jia Ning” to appear before him again.
He knew very well she was a fake, yet he painfully wished this dream she wove wouldn’t end too soon.
At least let him feel a little better.
His fingers moved uncontrollably, gripping her warm hand in return.
Inside the blue curtains fluttering in the wind, Song Jie spoke hoarsely, “Hold me, Jia Ning, make me warmer.”
A glimmer of amusement flashed in Xie Yushu’s eyes, but she quickly replaced it with a look of concern.
“Alright, I’ll hold you.”
She didn’t hesitate at all, reaching out to embrace Song Jie through the quilt.
“I’ve been warm-blooded since I was little. My mother says I’m like a little stove. Use me to keep warm.”
Song Jie leaned into her arms.
Even through the quilt, he could feel her heat.
Her face was beaded with fine sweat, and a warm, fragrant scent wafted from her neck, like melted balm.
It was so warm.
The icy pain in his bones seemed to be melted by her heat.
He closed his eyes, breathing in her scent, feeling her warmth.
The chill that tormented his chest really did ease a little.
It was as if he were soaking in a hot, blissful dream, clutching her fingers, trying to draw more warmth, but it was never enough—he still felt cold.
He began to want to pull off the quilt, to press closer, tighter to her, thinking perhaps that would drive away the bitter cold deep in his bones.
Unable to resist, he pressed his face closer to her warm neck, his nose touching her damp skin…
She suddenly moved, blocking his face with her hand and murmured softly, “You can’t take advantage of me while you’re at it.”
Song Jie opened his eyes and saw her turn her head away, refusing to look at him.
Her cheeks and ears were burning red, and her lowered lashes fluttered anxiously, brushing right at his heart, making both his heart and throat heat up.
His mind buzzed, and he almost hallucinated that she really was Jia Ning…
She covered his eyes with her hand, embarrassed.
“Don’t stare at me, Song Jie.”
Song Jie’s heart swelled to bursting, his whole body tingling as if thawing from ice and snow.
Under her palm, his eyes stung and burned.
He reached out to hold her hand, his voice hoarse and choked, “Jia Ning, I miss you so much…”
But she pulled her hand away, shattering his dream and calling him, “Song Prime Minister.”
Song Jie met a pair of eyes filled with disgust.
All her tenderness and shyness vanished, replaced by cold indifference and dislike.
She told him, “I only provide impersonation of Xie Jianing, nothing beyond that. If you can’t control yourself, this ends here.”
Song Jie felt as if he’d fallen into an icy abyss, as if he’d been slapped twice across the face.
He had actually, so clearly, mistaken her for Jia Ning again…
He couldn’t deny his shame: in that moment, he knew she wasn’t Jia Ning, but he desperately wanted to be treated with that kind of gentleness, like Xiao Zhen was, to lose himself in the dream Xie Yushu wove for him, to seek even a sliver of comfort in his pain, even if it was self-deception…
She stood up to leave.
Song Jie grabbed her tightly, the burn on his palm throbbing painfully.
“Don’t go, it was my fault…”
His touch made her frown again.
Song Jie immediately let go and said without hesitation, “I’ll add another two thousand taels, as an apology for my rudeness.”
He saw Xie Yushu’s brow relax a little at the mention of “two thousand taels.”
She wiped her fingers with a handkerchief and told him, “I accept your apology, but let me be clear: when I’m impersonating Xie Jianing, you are not allowed to initiate any physical contact.”
Song Jie could clearly sense her disgust for him, as if…she really saw him as just a business transaction.
But hadn’t she wept when he was unconscious?
Hadn’t she warmed his feet for him?
He looked at Xie Yushu in confusion but could only agree.
He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to put on such a look of revulsion—he didn’t want to touch her anyway.
But the words stuck in his throat, because just now, he had truly lost his mind and wanted to hold her hand…
Women.
Xie Yushu sighed and lifted the bed curtain.
“Where are you going?”
Song Jie immediately asked.
Hadn’t he paid her?
She looked back at him helplessly.
“To fetch some water to clean your wound.”
She slipped back into that “Jia Ning”-like, resigned expression and comforted him, “I’m not leaving. Count to ten and I’ll be back.”
Song Jie pressed his lips together, studying her face closely.
He’d never seen anyone as money-loving and quick to change faces as Xie Yushu.
She soon returned with a wet cloth and burn ointment, sat on the bed, pulled his hand onto her lap, and carefully cleaned his wound, scolding him with concern, “Why are you always so careless?”
Song Jie looked at her, reminding himself she was Xie Yushu.
“Does it hurt?”
She used her fingertip to gently spread the ointment, so tenderly and carefully as if afraid to hurt him, then leaned in to softly blow on his palm.
The gentle, warm breeze hovered over his palm.
The gesture was so pointless and childish, but Song Jie remembered clearly—his mother had once done the same for Xiao Zhen.
She would blow gently on the whip marks on Xiao Zhen’s arm, saying, “Blow on it and it won’t hurt.”
But Xiao Zhen would only frown and pull his hand away, saying, “Mother Consort, I’m not a child anymore.”
Yes, only children believed in such comforting tricks…
Song Jie hadn’t needed them since he was a child, but she blew so gently, applied the ointment so carefully, as if she couldn’t bear for him to be in pain.
“Congratulations, Host. You’ve gained 1 Heartthrob Value from Song Jie.”
The system suddenly chimed in.
Xie Yushu looked up at Song Jie in surprise, unable to figure out what he was thinking.
He seemed a bit crazy.
But he was so generous—seven thousand taels for just an hour.
In the Modern World, that was like acting for two hours…
“Seven thousand taels is about four million RMB,” the system helpfully converted for her.
Four million!
She immediately asked the system if the silver and gold she earned in this world could be taken back to her Original World after completing the mission.
The system replied, “As long as you max out your Life Value and complete the Main Quest, all the money you earn in the Main World can be exchanged for RMB and brought back to your Original World.”
What else was there to say?
She was a professional actress—at that moment, even Song Jie didn’t seem so detestable anymore.
Xie Yushu tucked her loose hair behind her ear, then lowered her head to blow on his hand again, asking gently, “Doesn’t it hurt as much now?”
Unexpectedly, Song Jie actually replied, “That’s just a trick for children.”
He said that, but didn’t pull his hand back, still resting it obediently on Xie Yushu’s lap.
Even his tone had lost its earlier contempt.
Judging from his character and background, Xie Yushu guessed that deep down, he actually wished to be “tricked” like this, because no one—not even his Mother Consort—had ever treated him like a child.
“Aren’t you just like a child now, needing someone to look after you all the time?”
Xie Yushu pulled over his other hand to check as well, sighing, “You need to be careful. When I’m not around, remember to apply the medicine, don’t get it wet, and don’t pop the blisters…”
She nagged on, giving him instructions.
Song Jie gazed at her lively eyes and brows.
Every word of advice sounded like Jia Ning caring for him.
“Did you hear me?”
She looked up to see him in a daze and asked, displeased, “Were you listening to me?”
Song Jie almost answered instinctively,
“I heard.”
After answering, he felt a bit of resistance inside—she was Xie Yushu, Xie Yushu!
“You can’t just listen with your ears, you have to remember it with your heart.”
She tapped his chest with her finger.
Through his clothes, it was as if his heart nodded in response.
He wanted so much to hold that hand, but reminded himself again: She is Xie Yushu.
“Lie down and sleep for a while,” Xie Yushu supported his arm.
“It won’t feel so bad if you fall asleep.”
He didn’t want to sleep, afraid that if he did, an hour would pass.
She saw right through him and said, “I won’t leave. I’ll sit here by your side as your little stove. I’ll go when you wake up.”
Song Jie looked at her steadily.
“Even if I don’t add extra pay, you’d still wait until I wake up before leaving?”
She didn’t hesitate at all.
“Of course not.”
This time, she didn’t even bother to tell a lie.
Song Jie had never seen a woman so greedy for money yet so honest about it.
He was just about to say something else when Panpan’s barking came from outside.
Cang Shu hurried out to ask who had entered the residence.
Footsteps and low voices came from outside.
Song Jie vaguely heard Cang Shu call out, “Fourth Prince?”
Soon, Cang Shu came in and reported softly outside the bed curtains, “Prime Minister, the Fourth Prince has entered the residence and wishes to see you. He says there’s an urgent matter from the Imperial Palace.”
“Xiao Zhen?”
Song Jie frowned, his lips curling with a hint of ridicule.
“What urgent matter would make him rush to the Prime Minister’s Residence at night? He’s just here to see if I’m dead yet.”
Fourth Prince Xiao Zhen?
Isn’t that the future emperor and male lead?