Weariness of Spring Flowers — Chapter 16.4

"Get out! Don't ever let me see you again!" Murong Jing He pointed to the door and shouted harshly. After speaking, he turned away from her, instead focusing on checking Luo Mei's face with concern.

Mei Lin didn't think she could smile in such a situation, but she did. It even hurt her lips and forehead when she did. As she stood up, her vision momentarily darkened, and she reached out to grab something nearby, forcing herself to stay steady. Once she regained her composure, she slowly walked out. The sounds of Murong Jing He's gentle consolations to another woman reached her ears, but strangely, she didn't feel very sad. Instead, it was as if all the strength had been drained from her body, making her feel weak, as though she were walking on clouds with each step.

"Qing Yan, hurry and fetch some medicine from the healer!" Murong Jing He's loud voice echoed from behind, filled with an indescribable mix of concern and stiffness, making her ears buzz. She was so distracted that she didn't notice the step she missed and fell headlong.

Cold wind mixed with snowflakes whipped around her, blinding her and making everything blurry and unclear. Mei Lin instinctively reached out into the air, grasping at nothing. When she saw nothing but white, she realized her struggle was futile and closed her eyes, letting herself slip into darkness.

Her head throbbed in waves, making it impossible to rest even in sleep. Light flickered behind her closed eyelids, dim and unsteady. Voices murmured nearby, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. Then, something cold dripped onto her face, causing a sharp pain as it slid over her forehead, jolting her awake.

To her surprise, the first thing she saw was Qing Yan's expressionless face. He looked startled to see her awake, then glanced awkwardly at the porcelain bottle in his hand. He had accidentally poured too much of the medicine onto her face. He knew all too well how strong that medicine was on open wounds.

But the awkwardness lasted only a moment before he resumed his usual cold demeanor, speaking in a low voice, "Stay here at the healer's place. Even after you recover, don't move around too much." He should have left after giving her these instructions, but he hesitated before adding, "As servants, our lives revolve around endurance. But today, you acted on impulse. If not for the Prince..." He abruptly stopped, then turned and left without finishing his sentence.

Mei Lin watched his slightly frail figure until he exited the room, then slowly shifted her gaze to the high, old, weathered beams of the ceiling. The bald-headed healer was probably still outside, warming himself by the fire, puffing on his pipe as he always did.

Reflecting on Qing Yan's words, Mei Lin couldn't help but tug at the corners of her lips. She knew he was reminding her that she, like him, was just a servant. No matter how much Murong Jing He valued them, they were still just servants. They could endure, but they couldn't hope for more.

She also knew that if Murong Jing He hadn't slapped her today, Luo Mei's sword might have been pointed at her, or she might have faced even harsher punishment.

However, the coldness in his eyes had cut deeper than any sword, leaving her feeling frozen to the core. In the end, he probably resented her for hurting someone he cared about so deeply. Should she be grateful that, even in his fury, he still thought to protect her?

Raising her hand to cover her eyes, she took a few deep breaths, then suddenly sat up. Rising too quickly, she felt a rush of blood and almost fainted again.

Gripping the blanket tightly, she steadied herself before getting out of bed. She dipped her slender fingers in the warm water on the table and wrote three words: "Let's go."

The bald-headed healer paused, pipe in mouth, and glanced toward the tightly closed door before muttering, "Have you lost your mind?" The very idea of leaving the Prince's mansion in this weather and at this time was absurd.

Mei Lin shook her head, her eyes clear and resolute. If she didn't leave, Luo Mei would not let her go. And as for him, she could think about him when his meridians were shattered, but now, she couldn't afford to dwell on it any longer. When she saw him throw the sachet she had carefully made into the fire without a second thought, she realized that clearly. She wasn't skilled in embroidery; making the sachet had been a first for her, done out of boredom. It hadn't turned out well, and she hadn't intended to give it to him anyway, just to keep it for herself. But now, that thought was cut off.

"I can't take such things with me..."

That's what he had said. But it wasn't just the sachet he meant, it was also her.

She was just a disposable assassin from the Dark Factory, a nameless concubine in his mansion, a wanted spy. Someone like her could never stand openly by his side. Though she had always known this deep down, it wasn't until she heard him say it that she realized how much she had clung to some impossible hope.

If, after all this, she stayed here, allowing him to use her while watching him with other women, she would truly be nothing more than a fool.

The bald-headed healer, seeing her resolve, took off his fur hat and scratched his head in exasperation. "If you're going to leave, at least wait until morning. These old bones of mine can't handle the cold."

Mei Lin realized he was right. Leaving in the dead of night during a snowstorm could be fatal. With Luo Mei around, Murong Jing He would be preoccupied, and considering his earlier warning not to let him see her again, it might not be too difficult to slip out of Jingbei if she was careful.

With this thought, her mood lightened a bit despite the disappointment. She nodded in agreement and was about to return to rest when the healer called her back.

"The porridge is still warm; eat some before you sleep." He pointed with his pipe to the food box by the brazier. "With your weak body, do you think you can withstand the wind and snow?"

The food box was made of porcelain, with a compartment inside holding hot coals. It had two levels: one with porridge and the other with side dishes, both still steaming.

Mei Lin didn't hesitate. After asking the healer if he wanted any and receiving a refusal, she picked up the chopsticks and started eating. No matter how bad her mood was, she could always eat—something her harsh upbringing had instilled in her. For people like them, missing even a single meal could cost them their lives.

"Sigh, I had hoped to enjoy this place a bit longer. A prince's mansion, a place us country folk could only dream of staying in, and now I have to leave it," the bald-headed healer leaned back in his chair, squinting at the glowing coals in the brazier. His body rocked the chair back and forth, making it creak, as he spoke with a tone full of regret and reluctance, making his words all the more irritating.

Mei Lin glanced at him, swallowed her food, and dipped her chopstick in water to write on the table:

"The sun doesn't shine here."

The healer fell silent, his eyes glinting with understanding. After all, there's no place like home.

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