Chapter 22 Pressing Close to His Leg

Chapter 22 Pressed Close to His Leg

The banquet hall was ablaze with light, alive with the clinking of wine cups and the murmur of conversation.

Liu Zhiyi walked briskly until she was just shy of the banquet, where she paused. Listening to the casual chatter and laughter, she took a few deep breaths to compose herself, then walked towards the feast with an air of nonchalance.

The moment she drew near, Chen Yanlin’s sharp gaze fixed on her, his eyes brimming with inquiry.

A bitter pang twisted in Liu Zhiyi’s heart. Under his increasingly impatient stare, she offered a subtle nod.

Chen Yanlin’s eyes instantly brightened. He rose with an eager haste, striding out of the banquet without a single backward glance.

The sight of his retreating figure, utterly devoid of lingering attachment, pierced Liu Zhiyi’s heart. She clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, the sharp, biting pain finally forcing her to release her grip.

Master Chen, holding a wine cup, was chatting merrily when he caught sight of her. “Where’s Yin Rou?” he asked, not forgetting.

Again, it was Song Yinrou.

Beneath Liu Zhiyi’s gentle, graceful features lay a resentment she could barely conceal. When she had first entered the Chen household, the master had never shown her special favor, and he quickly lost interest in her. Yet, he doted endlessly on Song Yinrou, granting her privileges no one else had ever received.

Her days in the Chen household stretched before her, predictable to the end. Confined to that small courtyard, she had nowhere else to go, her prime years destined to wither away here.

She had believed this would be her fate until death, but then the Fifth Young Master appeared. At first, she had been panicked and fearful, but gradually, she became ensnared in their forbidden relationship. In the thrill and absurdity of their taboo romance, she felt as though she had truly come alive.

The Fifth Young Master was stronger and younger than the master, never stingy with his loving comfort and coaxing. She had believed his feelings for her were genuine—until Song Yinrou appeared, and everything changed!

Now, he wouldn’t even glance her way, seeking her out only when it concerned Song Yinrou.

He asked her to help Song Yinrou out of trouble, even demanded she facilitate their relationship.

Liu Zhiyi stared at her broken nails, hatred choking her until she could barely breathe. All of this was because of Song Yinrou. What made her so special? If only she were gone, perhaps the Fifth Young Master would return to her.

All reason in her eyes was gradually overtaken by resentment as she lifted her gaze to Master Chen. “You’re asking about Yin Rou? She…”

*

Pant—pant—pant—

So hot… Someone, save her.

It was as if a fire had been lit inside Yin Rou’s body, the scorching flames leaving her parched and dry. Every drop of moisture seemed to have been drained from her. She desperately parted her lips, trying to gulp in fresh air, but the moment she managed to draw a breath, it burned away with a searing hiss before it could even reach her throat.

What was happening? The agony was unbearable. She tried to open her eyes, but her body was limp, utterly devoid of strength.

She couldn’t stay like this. She repeatedly commanded herself, summoning all her strength, and finally managed to peel her eyelids open slightly. Her bleary, tear-filled eyes, tinged with red, scanned the room hazily—she was still in the same chamber as before.

Liu Zhiyi was nowhere to be seen.

“Sister Liu…”

Her own voice, slurred and thick as if steeped in wine, startled her. How could she sound like this?

Her head spun violently. She remembered she had been about to change clothes when dizziness struck—that incense burner!

Yin Rou searched frantically, but the incense burner was no longer on the table. There had to be something wrong with it. And yet, while she had collapsed, Liu Zhiyi had remained unaffected.

A chill crept up from the depths of her heart, only to be smothered by another overwhelming wave of heat. Yin Rou curled her trembling body weakly, her feverish face burning hotter, her damp eyes brimming with panic.

What was happening to her? Her skin crawled as if infested, or as if she were being devoured from the inside.

No matter what, she had to get out of here.

Pressing her hands against the table, Yin Rou tried to stand, but the moment she moved, a numbing sensation seeped from her lower back, spreading through her entire body in an instant.

“Mmm…”

She bit down hard on her lip, sweat plastered her hair to her temples, clinging pitifully to her cheeks.

Her breath shuddered as she gnawed at her lip until it nearly bled, barely managing to stay upright. Shuffling unsteadily, she dragged herself to the door, tugging at it—but it didn’t budge.

Despair washed over her. She yanked at the door again, but it remained firmly locked.

Yin Rou nearly collapsed, her hands clutching the door handle to keep from falling.

Terror filled her eyes. She had to escape—but how? What could she do?

Her frantic gaze swept the room before landing on the window to the east. She lunged for it, pushing against the frame.

It was open!

Cool night air rushed in through the window, and Yin Rou nearly wept with relief.

But then—the distinct sound of a lock turning came from the door.

Yin Rou’s eyes widened in terror. Whoever was coming in, it couldn’t mean anything good.

Without a second to waste, she gathered her skirts, scrambling onto the windowsill with hands and feet. The windowsill dug painfully into her waist, but she didn’t dare stop.

The metallic clink of the lock being undone sent panic surging through her. Faster, she had to move faster!

Finally, she hauled herself over the sill and leapt down. Her ankle twisted upon landing, sending white-hot pain shooting through her. Clutching her foot, she inhaled deeply.

At that moment, the door behind her swung open.

Trembling, she peeked through the narrow gap beneath the window—it was Chen Yanlin!

Yin Rou’s pupils constricted in horror. Clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle any sound, she watched as his footsteps drew closer to the window.

Each step felt like it pounded against her frayed nerves, sending shivers down her spine.

If Chen Yanlin caught her, she was finished. Biting back the pain in her ankle, Yin Rou forced herself to run.

“Trying to escape?”

Chen Yanlin narrowed his eyes at the figure fleeing desperately under the moonlight. With a flick of his robe, he vaulted over the windowsill and gave chase.

The night wind sliced at Yin Rou’s ears like blades as she sprinted wildly. The iron taste of blood laced her ragged breaths, her ankle throbbing to the point of numbness—but she couldn’t stop. Chen Yanlin’s footsteps were closing in.

Like a specter, if he caught her, it would be her descent into hell.

She had no idea where she was running. Her vision swam chaotically until a glimmer of light caught her eye—hope. Gritting her teeth, she dashed toward it.

“Who dares charge around like this?” Shu Yan had just stepped out of Xuanhe Hall when he spotted someone rushing toward him. His sharp reprimand died on his lips as the figure drew closer, her features becoming clear.

Her delicate face was etched with terror, her dark hair disheveled, her skirts tangled wildly in the night wind.

Shu Yan’s eyes widened. “It’s you?”

Yin Rou glanced back, seeing Chen Yanlin quicken his pace. She grabbed Shu Yan and shoved him backward before darting into Xuanhe Hall herself.

Shu Yan didn't have time to react, shoved forward several steps, and ran right into the pursuing Chen Yanlin.

"Ouch—hiss—" Shu Yan clutched his shoulder, gasping. Had Song Yinrou gone crazy?

Without even seeing who he had bumped into, he snapped irritably, "Are you blind?"

"Get the hell out." The icy voice hissed through Chen Yanlin's clenched teeth.

Shu Yan froze. "Why is Fifth Young Master here?"

His eyes darted subtly over Chen Yanlin—was he chasing after Song Yinrou?

By now, Yin Rou's figure had already vanished into the corridor. To lose his quarry now—Chen Yanlin wouldn't stand for it. He shoved the obstructing Shu Yan aside and strode forward.

Realizing something was amiss, Shu Yan's face fell as he hurried after him. "Fifth Young Master, please allow me to announce your arrival first."

"Who do you think you are?" Chen Yanlin's voice was frigid.

His eyes scanned the surroundings before locking onto the study illuminated by candlelight.

"Where are you heading, Fifth Brother?" Chen Yanqing emerged from the other end of the corridor, his calm gaze assessing Chen Yanlin before settling on Shu Yan.

Shu Yan quickly explained, "Fifth Young Master stormed in suddenly without stating his purpose."

"Stormed?" Chen Yanlin sneered. "Since when has Xuanhe Hall been exclusive to Third Brother?"

"You're joking, Fifth Brother," Chen Yanqing replied composedly. "So, do you have business with me?"

Chen Yanlin stared at the study door—Song Yinrou must be hiding there. He wasn't leaving without her.

His tongue pressed against his teeth before he said with an icy smile, "Father instructed me to bring Miss Yinrou to him. Yet she wandered off and ended up here."

Chen Yanqing glanced at the study and asked Shu Yan, "Did you see anyone enter?"

Shu Yan faltered, unsure whether to admit or deny it. Claiming ignorance would be an outright lie.

"Whether she’s here or not, one look will tell." Chen Yanlin stepped forward decisively and pushed the door open.

The door creaked as it slammed against the wall, revealing an empty room.

Chen Yanlin’s face fell instantly—she wasn’t here.

"Now you’ve seen for yourself, Fifth Brother." Chen Yanqing walked past him, calmly sitting down behind the desk. His boot accidentally brushed against something soft.

He lowered his gaze slightly to look beneath the table.

Crouched at his feet was a trembling girl, desperately trying to make herself small.

The cramped space beneath the desk left her no room to retreat. Pressed flush against his leg, she tilted her frightened face upward, her teary, unfocused eyes glistening as she peered at him through fluttering lashes.

Her flushed cheeks were streaked with whether sweat or tears, tangled hair clinging to her face—a sight so pitiful it made his blood boil.