Chapter-fifteen: Poison taste
Ning Chen's gaze lingered on the delicate handwriting on the note, and a realization began to dawn. The identity of the person behind the pastries became increasingly clear.
Scanning the note with his sharp, black eyes, he sneered coldly.
"Yes, Gu Yue Haoyu. I should have known it was you."
Hearing the unfamiliar name, Ye Ling'er couldn't help but ask, "Gu Yue Haoyu? Who is that?"
"Haha," Ning Chen chuckled darkly. "Ye Ling'er, you don't need to know. But from now on, if a girl in pink ever brings pastries, you'll keep them for me first."
"Oh, got it," Ye Ling'er replied hesitantly.
"Now leave. And bring me a house slave," Ning Chen ordered, his tone sharp and commanding.
As Ning Chen stared at the cakes on the table, his thoughts grew heavier. Though he now knew the sender was Gu Yue Haoyu, his furrowed brows betrayed his unease.
Even with her identity revealed, her motives remained a mystery.
*"Why did she send these to me? When did she give them to Ye Ling'er? And how does she possess such exquisite craftsmanship?"*
These questions swirled in Ning Chen's mind like a dense fog on a mountainside, obscuring clarity. What had seemed straightforward now felt tangled and uncertain.
At first, he had dismissed it as the naive infatuation of a young girl. But now, it seemed far more deliberate.
Sitting in the main seat, Ning Chen turned his cold gaze toward Ye Ling'er, who stood frozen in place. His eyes grew icier, and his voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Ye Ling'er, didn't you hear me?"
The sharpness in his tone jolted Ye Ling'er from her daze. Her thoughts raced as she tried to comprehend his command.
*"What does Ning Chen want with a house slave? What is he planning to do?"*
Images of Ning Chen's ruthless methods flashed through her mind, and a chill unlike any weather crept up her spine, freezing her in place.
But the weight of Ning Chen's words brought her back to reality. She had served him for over a year and knew all too well what that coldness in his voice meant—he was angry.
Her heart waged a silent war. Sympathy for the unknown house slave clashed with her instinct for self-preservation. Clenching her teeth, she made her choice.
"Sorry, I was distracted just now. I'll go right away," she said, her voice trembling slightly.
Without another word, Ye Ling'er turned and hurried downstairs, her steps quick and nervous. She feared that any delay might provoke Ning Chen's wrath.
Ning Chen barely gave the situation a second thought. It wasn't worth his time. He calmly picked up his chopsticks, grabbed a piece of some mushroom—he didn't even bother to know its name—and popped it into his mouth.
Quietly, he began eating his dinner, the act as steady and deliberate as ever.
---
*Thump… thump… thump…*
Ye Ling'er hurried to the house slaves' quarters next door, her breaths shallow and uneven. Her anxious eyes darted around, as though they were searching for an escape from a burden she couldn't avoid.
"Why the rush?"
The voice was calm, smooth, and reassuring. A young man stepped into view, his tied-back hair and patched robe doing little to diminish his quiet presence. His face was striking—sharp brows, bright eyes like twin stars in the night sky, red lips, and clear, fair skin.
There was a gentleness to his gaze, one that seemed to envelop the world. The faint, knowing smile at the corner of his lips radiated an inexplicable sense of safety.
Despite his plain attire, there was something in his stance, his every gesture, that hinted at greatness. Even wearing rags, he seemed destined to stand out—a dragon among men, one who didn't belong here.
"Brother Ye Han, the young master asked me to find a house slave to come upstairs," Ye Ling'er said softly, her voice betraying her unease.
Ye Han—it was him, the one Ye Ling'er had long admired. His presence calmed her in ways words never could. If Ning Chen had been there, she would've picked up on Ye Han's remarkable demeanor instantly.
"I see," Ye Han said, frowning briefly before his expression softened. His smile returned, gentle and reassuring as always. "It's alright, Ling'er. Just find someone and bring them up. There's no need to worry—it may not be as bad as you think."
"I hope you're right," Ye Ling'er murmured, though her chest felt heavy with guilt. She didn't want to obey Ning Chen's orders, but defiance wasn't an option.
Her eyes swept over the familiar faces of the house slaves. There was Uncle Zhang, Aunt Wang, and Uncle Li. Each of them had been kind to her—offering help, advice, and companionship over the years.
"Little Ling'er, what's wrong? You look so anxious," Uncle Zhang said, his voice tinged with concern.
"That's right, child. If something's troubling you, just tell us," Aunt Wang added.
"Don't be scared, Ling'er. We've got your back," Uncle Li reassured her.
Their kindness made Ye Ling'er's heart ache. She didn't want to choose. How could she? Each second she hesitated only added to the weight of Ning Chen's growing anger in her imagination.
Caught between loyalty to her master and the bonds of trust she'd built with these people, her heart wavered. She clenched her teeth, her mind spinning. Finally, she closed her eyes and let her finger point at random, hoping that blind chance would ease her guilt.
When she opened her eyes, her breath caught. It was Uncle Li.
Her vision blurred with tears as she ran to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his frame. Her voice broke as she whispered, "I'm so sorry, Uncle Li. I don't want to hurt you, but I don't know how to save everyone."
Uncle Li's brows furrowed in confusion. "Hurt me? What are you talking about, child?"
"The young master wants a slave to test the cake a girl gave him—for poison," Ye Ling'er explained, her voice choked with sobs.
Uncle Li's face turned pale, a shadow of fear darkening his expression. Still, he managed a weak, bittersweet smile. "Hahaha, Little Ling'er, it's alright. I don't blame you."
He patted her head gently, as if to ease her burden, even as his own heart grew heavier. Pulling away, he glanced at the others in the room. His smile carried a quiet acceptance—resignation to his fate.
Without another word, he began his walk toward Ning Chen's bamboo building. His steps were slow, steady, as though he were walking toward the inevitable.
Ye Han watched from a distance, his chest tight with unspoken emotions. He inhaled sharply, forcing the suffocating weight down, but couldn't stop himself from murmuring, "Ah, old man…"
He sighed deeply, turning back to his room and vanishing into the shadows.
---
*Thump… thump… thump…*
Uncle Li ascended the stairs, each step echoing loudly in the silence. His heart was strangely calm; he had already accepted his fate.
"Come in," Ning Chen called, his voice cutting through the stillness before Uncle Li even reached the door.
Uncle Li hesitated for a moment, then pushed the door open. Inside, he saw Ning Chen seated at the table, his movements measured and deliberate as he ate his dinner. The atmosphere in the room was cold, almost suffocating.
Ning Chen didn't acknowledge Uncle Li's presence right away, continuing his meal as though nothing else mattered. The quiet clink of chopsticks was the only sound.
Finally, Ning Chen finished eating. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, then turned his calm, unfeeling gaze toward Uncle Li.
"Have a bite of this cake," Ning Chen said, sliding a small plate across the table. A single, delicate piece of pastry sat upon it.
"Young master, please…" Uncle Li's voice trembled as he tried to plead. "I have a wife, children… I held you in my arms when you were just a baby."
Ning Chen's expression didn't change. "So, you didn't hear what I said?" he asked, his voice sharp and icy.
Uncle Li swallowed hard. "I… I heard."
Slowly, he approached the table. His hands shook as he picked up the plate, staring down at the beautiful pastry. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he reached for it, his fingers trembling. Closing his eyes, he lifted the piece to his mouth and took a bite.