Mei Lin knelt there for a long time, not moving. It wasn't until the light outside began to fade and she heard footsteps that she snapped out of her thoughts. With a self-deprecating smile, she grasped the chair Murong Jing He had sat in and slowly pulled herself up. The chair had long since grown cold, and the fire in the brazier, left unattended, had dwindled to just a faint, flickering glow, leaving the room as cold as an ice cellar.
She rubbed her freezing hands, trying to ward off a sneeze, just as the maid assigned to serve and watch over her entered the room, carrying dinner. Seeing the dying embers, the maid quickly set down the food tray and added a few more pieces of charcoal to the brazier, stoking the fire back to life.
"Your voice may be ruined, but your hands aren't. Can't you at least add some charcoal? If you catch a cold, I'll be the one to suffer for it," the maid grumbled, her tone laced with disdain. This maid wasn't a true servant of the palace but one of the elite guards responsible for Murong Jing He's safety. Higher in rank than the death guards and shadow guards, she had been assigned by Qing Yan to watch over Mei Lin, a task she clearly resented. While she wouldn't dare neglect her duties in providing food and clothing, her cold, sarcastic remarks were constant. The reports about Mei Lin's daily life, given by those in the same unit as the maid, were often softened by personal connections and omitted such insults when reported back to Murong Jing He.
Mei Lin ignored her, quietly taking up a bowl and beginning to eat.
The maid continued to mutter under her breath, growing more irritated as Mei Lin remained unresponsive. Spotting the handprint on Mei Lin's delicate face, the maid sneered.
"Oh my, what's this on your face, miss? Were you so bored that you slapped yourself for fun? Or maybe..." Her eyes gleamed with amusement as she pieced together another possibility, bursting into laughter. "Or maybe the master was being kind to you..."
Mei Lin's grip tightened on the bowl, and the next moment, she flung it across the room.
The maid, being skilled in martial arts, easily dodged the bowl and its contents. But she didn't anticipate the sudden, sharp slap that followed.
As the bowl shattered against the wall, the crisp sound of a slap echoed in the room, plunging it into a heavy silence.
Mei Lin glanced at Qing Yan's stern expression as she slowly lowered her now-empty hand, trying to muster a smile of gratitude. But just as the corners of her lips lifted, her eyes welled with tears, which she hastily turned away to hide, swallowing the lump in her throat.
Qing Yan didn't look at her, instead fixing a cold glare on the trembling maid kneeling on the floor. "Daitang will take over your duties. Go to the Discipline Office and receive your punishment." The way he elongated the last word, with a contemptuous lilt characteristic of court eunuchs, left no room for defiance.
Mei Lin wasn't familiar with the Discipline Office, as the shadow and death guards were not part of the same organization. But the maid's sudden pale face told her that it was no place anyone would want to visit. Yet despite her fear, the maid didn't plead for mercy, a testament to the authority Qing Yan held over these people.
Once the maid left, Qing Yan finally turned to Mei Lin, who had already composed herself and managed a faint, sincere smile.
"I will have another meal sent up for you," he said coolly, before turning to leave.
Mei Lin felt a surge of confusion, unsure of why he had come. But as he paused at the door, he spoke again, his tone light yet firm, "You’re a smart woman. You should know what's best for yourself. Why go against the master?" With that, he disappeared as quickly as he'd come, as if his only purpose was to deliver that single message.
Mei Lin barely had time to think, let alone respond. His swift departure spared her from any awkwardness.
It was clear that Murong Jing He was still in a bad mood, and Qing Yan, after speaking to the guards outside, must have figured everything out. Although Mei Lin understood his good intentions, she couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed. She was someone who responded better to kindness than to force; neither Murong Jing He's slap nor the maid's taunts had moved her, but Qing Yan's subtle act of protection had unexpectedly brought her to tears. Getting hit out of a sudden burst of stubbornness wasn’t something she found particularly praiseworthy.
She suddenly thought of A Dai, remembering how she too had developed a certain defiance, and shivered at the realization. Hurriedly, she stood up, added more charcoal to the brazier, and stoked the fire higher.
After washing her hands and face, applying some rouge to cover the marks on her cheek, and tidying herself up, she left her room and headed toward Murong Jing He's courtyard.
The new maid, Daitang, followed behind her, cautious and quiet after what had just transpired. Mei Lin found this to be satisfactory. She didn't care what others said about her, but she had no patience for someone constantly chattering in her ear.
It seemed Qing Yan had given orders, as no one stopped her on her way, and she easily entered the central courtyard where Murong Jing He resided. The guards outside looked at her with strange expressions, a mix of relief and nervousness.
Murong Jing He was reclining on his bed, a maid feeding him. When he saw Mei Lin, his face darkened, but he waved away the others, clearly aware that their interactions weren’t fit for others to witness.
Mei Lin noticed the maid's visible relief as she turned to leave, and suspicion flickered in her mind until she stepped closer and felt something slippery underfoot. She realized with a jolt that Murong Jing He must have caused some kind of trouble while eating.
"What are you doing here?" Murong Jing He's face was frosty, his expression full of displeasure at seeing her.
Mei Lin had prepared herself mentally before coming, so she wasn’t easily swayed by his mood. Smiling faintly, she offered a polite bow—neither too humble nor too distant—before stepping forward to take the bowl from the table, ready to continue feeding him.
Murong Jing He watched her with suspicion, unable to understand why she had suddenly become so compliant.
"There's no need for you to serve me. I have others for that," he said coldly, leaning back and refusing the food she offered.
Mei Lin thought about the strange feeling that had surfaced when she first saw another woman feeding him. Now, being rejected, she hesitated, her smile faltering. It seemed she had overestimated her ability to resist his influence.
Seeing her hesitation, Murong Jing He grew genuinely annoyed. "If you have nothing to do, then leave! This is no place for you."
But instead of leaving, Mei Lin, spurred by his words, grew determined. If he was going to dislike her anyway, why not give him more reason to? She set the bowl down with a thud and, just as Murong Jing He thought she would obey and leave, feeling an unexpected twinge of disappointment, she lifted her skirt and climbed onto the bed.
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