Chapter 25 Blood Seeping into the Thumb Ring

Chapter 25: Blood Stains the Thumb Ring

Shu Yan hurried back to Xuanhe Pavilion with the freshly brewed medicine, standing under the eaves and calling softly through the door, "Young Master, the medicine is ready."

After waiting for a while with no response, he wondered if he hadn’t been heard.

Clearing his throat, he was about to speak again when a hoarse voice came from inside, "It's not needed."

Shu Yan froze, ignoring Chen Yanqing’s words.

What did he mean, no need? Song Yinrou’s condition was so severe—how could she go without the medicine?

As he puzzled over this, another command came from inside, "Draw a bath."

Prepare... water? Shu Yan’s eyes widened as he stared at the door, licking his dry lips. Had he heard right?

The Young Master wanted water and said the medicine wasn’t needed... Shu Yan stiffly lowered his gaze to the bowl in his hands.

His hand trembled suddenly, nearly spilling the medicine.

He steadied the bowl, suppressing his shock as he hurried away, the spoon clattering incessantly against the rim like a jingling bell.

Inside the room, the room was pitch black, thick and suffocating.

Moonlight through the window faintly revealed the scene—everything seemed unchanged. Yin Rou still curled in the chair, Chen Yanqing standing before her.

The only difference was her leg draped over the armrest, while Chen Yanqing’s broad back bent low, his towering shadow cast on the wall, magnified and oppressive.

Shedding his usual refinement, he engulfed her completely, his left arm braced beside her head while his right hand was hidden beneath her bunched-up skirts.

Yin Rou gasped for air, lips parting in desperation, but the air around her was thick and stifling. She lifted her head weakly—Third Young Master’s chest was so close, heaving as if something primal might erupt.

Dangerous. Oppressive.

His neck, constrained by his collar, was glistening with sweat, his throat bobbing slowly, each movement drawing out more moisture that vanished beneath the fabric, only to repeat.

Yin Rou wasn’t sure if her vision was too blurred, but the way Third Young Master’s gaze pinned her seemed distorted, like a bottomless mire—once trapped, escape was impossible.

Suffocating, she felt ensnared in a net, flames licking at her from below. Drenched in sweat, survival instinct made her tilt her chin up sharply.

As her neck arched, her collar gaped, revealing flushed skin that stabbed into Chen Yanqing’s vision. Darkness swirled in his eyes like a vortex, veins throbbing violently at his temples, sweat beading at his hairline.

His ragged breaths scorched her ear. Innocent and untouched, her body, now freed from the drug’s torment, couldn’t withstand even the slightest stimulation. Her nose wrinkled, and a soft sob escaped.

Trembling from crying, her leg on the armrest swayed, dizzying Chen Yanqing. Instead of receding at her tears, the hunger in his gaze only intensified.

Yet, reason still held.

Chen Yanqing watched her silently for a long moment, swallowing dryly before steadying his breath and withdrawing his hand from beneath her skirt. Carefully, he adjusted her dress.

Then his gaze fixed on a spot. Slowly, he looked up.

A crimson stain bloomed on the white fabric—blood. Chen Yanqing stiffened as if struck, pupils contracting sharply.

His thoughts stuttered to a halt.

On the first day of his father’s mourning period, his one-time concubine had bled in his hands, and he had nearly lost control.

A leaden weight filled his chest. Taking a deep breath, he finished straightening her skirt, then gripped her trembling ankle to lower her leg.

Once done, he stepped back.

Yin Rou slumped weakly in the chair, her tear-filled eyes unfocused, lips parted in shallow breaths. Upon closer inspection, her lips were bitten raw, tiny streaks of blood seeping out. Her intermittent sobs finally awoke something in him—remorse.

He took a step forward, then stopped. Clenching his hand at his side, he felt the tacky feel of drying blood. Glancing down, he saw his jade thumb ring streaked with red, the color seeping into the grooves as if branding his skin, burning to the bone.

He should have removed it—but he’d forgotten.

Spent from weeping, Yin Rou lifted limp arms to hug herself, burying her face against her shoulder, revealing a tear-streaked cheek.

"Better?" Chen Yanqing asked.

She nodded, then shook her head, tousled hair clinging to her damp face, her pouting lips unconsciously revealing her youthful innocence.

Unaware of the softening in his own gaze, Chen Yanqing watched her.

"Young—Young Master, everything’s ready."

Shu Yan’s stammering voice from outside shattered the brief quiet and dispelled the gentleness in Chen Yanqing’s eyes. Considering Yin Rou, he considered how to take her over.

His gaze flicked to her exposed toes—her embroidered slippers had fallen off at some point, her delicate silk socks doing little to protect them against the rough stone floor.

Suddenly loath to make her walk, Chen Yanqing moved to lift her, but the moment his arm circled her waist, she shrank back.

Pressing herself into the chair, she acted as if he were some predator.

Yet earlier, she had begged so desperately.

Chen Yanqing almost laughed. "You need to clean up. I’ll carry you."

Yin Rou, hazy though she was, she seemed to comprehend and stopped resisting, cautiously leaning her head against him, settling into his arms.

Her tear-stained cheek brushed his chest, a slight nuzzle before going still, biting her lower lip lightly—like a lonely creature finally finding warmth but fearing it was an illusion.

Shu Yan was holding his breath, eyes fixed on the door. When it opened and Chen Yanqing emerged carrying Song Yinrou, his thoughts scattered. After a stunned moment, he quickly lowered his head, eyes fixed firmly downward.

Soaked with sweat, Yin Rou shivered in the breeze, but the warmth radiating through Chen Yanqing’s clothes felt like a mother’s embrace.

She buried her face deeper into his chest, arms lifting to wrap around his neck, holding on with hesitant need.

Chen Yanqing hesitated mid-stride before continuing.

"Mother... Father..." Yin Rou murmured faintly, her voice trembling with heartbreaking hope.

Chen Yanqing’s hand gently patted her shoulder.

It really was them! Ecstatic, Yin Rou tightened her hold, burying her face against his neck, whispering over and over, "Mother, Father."

Shu Yan, trailing behind, witnessed it all. His expression shouted one thing: *Outrageous.*

Eyes bulging, he nearly moved to pluck her out of Chen Yanqing’s arms.

But after waiting futilely for correction, Shu Yan despaired—realizing the Young Master had willingly carried her. His face fell.

Yin Rou couldn't count how often she’d dreamed of her parents, only to see them fade away, however desperately she pursued.

"I’ve longed for you so."

She said in a small, pitiful voice, clutching him even tighter, "Don't leave me."

Chen Yanqing felt wetness on his neck—was she crying?

He lowered his gaze, but Yin Rou had buried her face too deeply for him to see anything.

All he could hear were her broken murmurs.

"Mother... Father... Brother... Xuanlin..."

Shu Yan walked behind with his head down when Chen Yanqing abruptly halted, almost making him bump into him. Puzzled, he looked up to find the previously warm atmosphere had inexplicably turned somber, an oppressive atmosphere that made Shu Yan nervous.

Chen Yanqing’s eyes were downcast, fixed on Song Yinrou’s face. The last name she'd called out—wasn't that her fiancé?

Coldness flashed in his eyes as the slanting moonlight swept past him, stretching his cold figure. His refined features, caught between light and shadow, took on a sharp edge.

Feeling the warmth around her disappear, Yin Rou instinctively pressed closer to the one holding her, only to encounter complete coldness.

Bewildered, she frowned and timidly shrank back.

Chen Yanqing watched her movements indifferently, his fingers tightening slightly on her shoulder. The sudden pain made Yin Rou freeze, fear returning to her face once more—an expression he'd seen many times before.

Realizing he had been affected by her murmurs, Chen Yanqing’s mouth tightened as he swiftly suppressed all unnecessary emotions.

In a few strides, he carried her to a side chamber, put her down and walked out without a word, instructing Shu Yan, "Fetch Yu He."

Not daring to ask questions, Shu Yan hurried off.

Chen Yanqing stood beneath the corridor, taking out a clean handkerchief from his sleeve to meticulously wipe the blood from his fingers, as if wiping away the disturbance in his heart.

Yet a trace of blood had seeped into the white jade thumb ring, impossible to wipe away. Upon closer inspection, he noticed a fine crack—likely from when Shu Yan had accidentally dropped it days ago.

Now, the blood had seeped into the jade, turning it a bright red, as if mocking his futile attempt to cleanse it.

Shu Yan soon returned with Yu He, surprised to find Chen Yanqing still standing in the same spot.

Had the Third Young Master been standing guard over Song Yinrou this whole time? The thought alone seemed absurd.

Yu He, looking worried, hurried forward. "Third Young Master, where is the young lady?"

Remembering Yinrou’s current position, Yu He quickly corrected herself, but Chen Yanqing spoke first, "She’s inside. Take care of her."

Yu He nodded hastily and entered.

Shu Yan whispered, "Young Master, Madam Chen was asking for you."

"I’ll go now."

Mourners came to the Chen household in groups, their cries echoing through the mourning hall. The flames of burning joss paper distorted the air, the heavy atmosphere of death was overwhelming.

Madam Chen cried uncontrollably, the loss of her son unbearable. Her already aged face showed even deeper grief.

*

Worried about her health, Chen Yanqing had servants assist her to rest.

"I’m fine," Madam Chen waved her hand dismissively.

Chen Yanqing didn’t insist, only having ginseng tea brought before gently reminding her, "Grandmother, you mustn't damage your health."

Madam Chen was too grief-stricken to speak. No mother could bear watching her child depart, but as the matriarch of the Chen family, she couldn’t collapse.

Taking a deep breath, she dried her tears and composed herself before asking, "Where were you earlier?"

As a servant brought the tea, Chen Yanqing handed it to her. "With Father deceased and Second Uncle unable to come back from the capital, I sent a letter to inform him."

Madam Chen believed him without question, then noticed the damp stain on his sleeve. "Your robe—how did it get soiled?"

Chen Yanqing glanced at the indistinct mark—left from when he helped Song Yinrou. The blood on his fingers had been wiped clean, but this trace of moisture remained.

"Probably brushed against something without noticing," he replied evenly, though his throat constricted with each word, the dryness clawing deep into his chest.

Yinrou had come to, sitting in a daze on the daybed while Yu He gathered her discarded clothes. Seeing the bloodstains made Yuhe's eyes water.

After suffering the destruction of her family, how could heaven show her no mercy, subjecting her to such humiliation?

Yin Rou stared blankly at the glaring red, then suddenly smiled—a pale, empty smile.

"Miss, you're scaring me," Yu He pleaded.

*

Yin Rou shook her head slowly. She truly wanted to laugh—at the very least, this was a step she had desired. Now, she and the Third Young Master were bound together.

Yet the nature of that bond shamed her, filling her with self-loathing.

Enduring the pain between her legs, she forced herself upright, sweat forming on her brow.

"Young lady, rest a while longer."

"No." Yin Rou steadied herself, legs trembling beneath her skirts. "Everyone is in the main hall. If I’m absent too long, people will suspect something."

Yu He opened her mouth to protest, but Yin Rou insisted, "Let’s go."

When they reached the mourning hall, Yin Rou knelt at the very end of the maids’ line.

As the eldest son, Chen Yanqing handed incense to mourners. His sharp gaze noticed her figure in the distance—head bowed, lashes lowered, her face paler than before, her frail frame drowning in mourning robes, as if a stiff wind could knock her over.

Who allowed her here?

Irritation flared unbidden. He summoned Shu Yan.

"Young Master’s orders?"

"With more mourners arriving, assign some to guide them."

Chen Yanqing’s gaze flickered toward Yin Rou. Shu Yan understood immediately, selecting two maids before approaching her. "You come as well."

The situation between the young master and Song Yinrou was beyond simple explanation. Though still reeling, Shu Yan knew better than to question. Chen Yanqing’s unusual regard for her was evident, softening even his tone.

Yin Rou lifted her head weakly. "Yes."

Her legs, already unsteady from kneeling, nearly gave way as she stood. Chen Yanqing’s frown deepened at her wavering figure.

Master Chen’s coffin remained in the residence for seven days before being carried to the ancestral graves at dawn. Yin Rou followed the procession, walking with grief weighing her down.

*

The path was pitch-black, illuminated only by the dim glow of white lanterns, with funeral paper money swirling through the air. Yin Rou felt no attachment to Master Chen, yet the solemnity of mortality pressed upon her heart like a heavy stone.

Once the coffin was buried and they returned to the estate, the sky finally brightened. The warm sunlight fell upon her, dispelling some of the gloom in her heart.

Just as she thought she could catch her breath, Nanny Lu stepped forward, blocking the light before her.

Yin Rou tensed. "Nanny Lu."

Even when the master was alive, she'd endured plenty of Nanny Lu's schemes, let alone now—she was no different from a fish on the cutting board.

Nanny Lu cast her a glance. "Follow me."

With a heart full of unease, Yin Rou followed Nanny Lu to the Ruxin courtyard. Passing through the moon gate, she saw from afar a crowd of people kneeling inside.

As she drew closer, Yin Rou was shocked to realize that those kneeling were all Master Chen’s concubines or maidservants, sobbing and dabbing their eyes, while Wu Shi sat in the seat of authority, eyeing them like insects.

The scene was identical to the one in her vision. Wu Shi indeed intended to sell them off—and faster than she had anticipated. Icy dread wrapped around Yin Rou, her eyes wide with terror.

"Still not kneeling?" Nanny Lu said coldly, landing a sharp kick to the back of Yin Rou’s knees.

Yin Rou stumbled and fell to the ground. She kept telling herself to stay calm—soon enough the Third Young Master learned of this and intervened.

Suppressing her panic, she slowly raised her head, only to notice an unexpected figure beside her—

Liu Zhiyi.

In her vision, only childless concubines had been sold off, and Liu Zhiyi hadn’t been among them. What had changed? Had Liu Zhiyi not conceived the master’s heir this time, or was it too early to tell?

"The master is gone, and this household no longer needs you. Someone will come shortly to take you away."

Wu Shi’s airy words sealed their fates. Pleas and sobs rose and fell—everyone knew what Wu Shi meant. Leaving the Chen family would spell disaster for them.

"Madam, please, for the sake of our years of service to the master, show us mercy!" Liu Zhiyi pleaded desperately, her gaze flickering anxiously toward the door.

Wu Shi remained unmoved, her cold gaze sweeping over the weeping crowd before settling on Yin Rou with a dark intensity.

She had heard about the incident where the old madam caught her with the Fifth Young Master. This shameless girl had already ensnared the master—how dare she seduce her son? She would make her pay!

She couldn’t allow Song Yinrou to remain in the Chen household for even a moment longer. The simplest solution was to dispose of her along with these concubines. If they resented their fate, they'd brought this on themselves for relying on their looks—this was the end they deserved.

"All this wailing is giving me a headache."

At Wu Shi’s quiet remark, Nanny Lu immediately understood. With a wave of her hand, the household guards stepped forward to drag the women away.

Watching their despairing cries, Yin Rou was frozen in terror, shrinking back as she silently prayed for the Third Young Master to appear.

"Mother, what a lively gathering. I wonder what’s happening here."

A calm voice cut through the chaos. Yin Rou squeezed her eyes shut—he'd actually come.

A moment later, she lifted her lashes to see the familiar figure approaching from the courtyard, the sunlight at his back dispelling the despair in her heart inch by inch.

Wu Shi hadn’t expected Chen Yanqing’s sudden arrival. Her face tightened as she dismissed the servants with a wave. "Third Young Master, what brings you here?"

"Grandmother sent me to fetch you," Chen Yanqing said, standing in the center of the hall. His gaze swept over the scene. "But it seems I’ve stumbled upon something. What have these women done wrong?"

His appearance was their only hope, who scrambled to plead, "Third Young Master, please don’t cast us out! We served the master loyally!"

Wu Shi’s face darkened. Of all moments, Chen Yanqing had to interfere now.

Unable to mask her displeasure, she glared at him—only to meet his deep, icy gaze, a flash of steel that sent a chill down her spine.

"What wrong have they done to warrant being sold off?"

His words were an open challenge to Wu Shi. As the mistress of the household, didn't she have the right to deal with a few concubines.

"It’s not about wrongdoing. They stayed in the Chen household only because they pleased your father. Now that he’s gone, there’s no need to keep such riffraff. Besides, they were always just the Chen family’s servants."

The concubines paled at her words, which treated them as less than human—yet none dared protest.

Chen Yanqing neither agreed nor disagreed. After a long silence, he spoke. "Father's barely cold in his grave, and you’re already in such a hurry to dispose of those closest to him? That seems premature. Those who have served the Chen family shouldn’t be sent away—it would tarnish your reputation, Mother. And it’s not as if the Chen family can’t afford to feed a few more mouths."

"After all, they served Father for years. Assigning them a courtyard to live in wouldn’t be an issue."

He finished coolly, then turned to Wu Shi. "What do you think, Mother?"

Wu Shi seethed with rage. Chen Yanqing had always despised these women—why would he speak up for them now? Was he deliberately opposing her?

Without waiting for her reply, Chen Yanqing took matters into his own hands. "Take them all away."

The women, given a reprieve, kowtowed, weeping with gratitude. Wu Shi’s face contorted with bottled rage, but she forced herself to take a deep breath and nod. "Third Young Master makes a fair point. But this maid—"

Her venomous gaze locked onto Yin Rou. No matter what, this little temptress could not stay.

Chen Yanqing exhaled lightly, his face impassive—but Shu Yan, standing beside him, knew this was a sign of his growing impatience.

The young master hadn't come here for them.

Earlier, when he had been about to fetch Song Yinrou, he’d seen Nanny Lu leading her away and immediately reported it. Chen Yanqing, in the middle of discussions with his cousin, had dropped everything and came straight here.

"You spend your days burning incense and chanting sutras—I assumed you cultivated compassion. Yet you haven’t even learned to be merciful when you can?" Chen Yanqing’s tone was flat, but the mockery in his words was unmistakable.

Wu Shi’s calm facade cracked. Her fingers clenched around her rosary beads.

Nanny Lu couldn’t hold back. "Third Young Master, how can you speak like this? Madam was merely disciplining a maid—must you blow it out of proportion? She is, after all, the mistress of the Chen household and your mother."

Her words carried a hint of reproach.

"Are you lecturing me on hierarchy?" Chen Yanqing lifted his gaze.

One imperious look sent cold sweat trickling down Nanny Lu’s back. She bowed deeply. "This old servant wouldn’t dare."

"If we’re speaking of hierarchy, what is the punishment for a servant who disrespects their master?"

Nanny Lu paled. The Third Young Master was actually holding her accountable? Even Yin Rou was startled, her eyes lifting to Chen Yanqing’s stern profile.

She had never seen the Third Young Master so severe, much less openly defy Wu Shi for her sake. Her heart trembled without warning.

Nanny Lu looked to Wu Shi in desperation. "Madam, I truly meant no offense!"

Wu Shi had never expected him to be so ruthless. With the master gone and the family business now entirely in his hands, the Chen household was effectively under his control.

Rage burned in her chest, yet she had no choice but to swallow it and speak gently. "Nanny Lu has served me for many years."

Chen Yanqing nodded. "Since she serves you, I won’t disregard that."

He paused for a moment, then spoke with icy words: "On your knees. Slap yourself."

"Sanlang!" Wu Shi cried out urgently.

Chen Yanqing cut her off, "You know full well the rules demand more than just slapping."

Wu Shi immediately fell silent. Nanny Lu had already gone deathly pale; if they truly followed the rules, she would be caned!

The other servants in the courtyard lowered their heads, their hearts pounding. Even Shu Yan held his breath at this moment. His sidelong glance at Yin Rou, forced to kneel, made it clear why the young master was so furious.

"I won't say it a third time," Chen Yanqing said, fixing his gaze on Nanny Lu. "Kneel."

His voice cut like a blade. Nanny Lu, her face deathly pale, knelt down, clenched her teeth, and raised her hand to slap her own face.

Without Chen Yanqing's order to stop, she dared not cease, striking her face again and again.

The sharp crack of each slap rang through the courtyard.