Chapter 20 Absolutely Not Allowed to Escape His Sight.

Chapter 20: Never Out of His Sight.

He wasn’t asking—he was accusing, demanding to know why she had come.

But it was the family maid who had fetched her; she never wanted to come. Seeing the man by her side dote on her elder sister so attentively, how could her heart not ache?

Zhu Yinluan’s lips parted slightly, a wave of discomfort rising in her body, her nose burning with held-back tears before she could even speak.

One of Mrs. Zhu’s maids hurried out, saying Lord Zhu had summoned Wei Ruzuo.

Wei Ruzuo ignored her and walked off without looking back.

Zhu Yinluan watched the man’s retreating figure, his hurried steps, her lashes trembling uncontrollably as her vision blurred. Her limbs went numb with weakness, leaving her completely exhausted.

“Miss…” Ming Ya stepped forward to support her.

The Luo family had left, the witnesses had departed, and even the Zhu family paid her no heed.

The hall, once packed, now felt eerily empty. Zhu Yinluan felt as though she were trapped in icy chains, her body drenched in cold sweat.

“Miss, should we…”

“Let’s go back.” Zhu Yinluan withdrew her gaze and silently left with Ming Ya.

On the way back, inside the carriage, the tears finally broke free.

She’d kept it together until now, even improving in recent days—yet now, she didn’t know what had come over her.

Perhaps it was the medicine she had taken. No matter how hard she tried, the tears refused to stop, pouring out uncontrollably.

She hadn’t wanted to come in the first place. Her family forced her to go—was it her mother’s doing, or her sister’s intentional trick? To make her witness Wei Ruzuo fighting for the Zhu family—no, for her sister.

Yet for some reason, she couldn’t hold back. She sobbed like never before.

Ming Ya had been watching Zhu Yinluan closely. Though the latter tried to suppress it, in the silent alley, Ming Ya still caught the faint sounds of her muffled crying.

Pulling aside the carriage curtain, she saw the young lady huddled into a shaking little heap in the corner.

Shrouded in darkness, her face was bowed, her expression unreadable. Her slender shoulders shook intermittently; it wrenched Ming Ya’s heart.

Ming Ya quickly told the driver to stop and climbed in to comfort her.

Seeing Zhu Yinluan’s face streaked with tears, she couldn’t help but cry as well.

No one understood Zhu Yinluan’s loneliness and suffering better than Ming Ya, who had walked this path with her all these years. The struggle never let up.

Zhu Yinluan’s crying verged on breaking down. If they returned now and the servants saw her like this, word would surely reach Pang Shi’s ears, causing needless drama.

Seeing how pale she was, Ming Ya instructed the coachman to find a physician.

Thinking they meant the clinic visited earlier that day, the coachman drove straight there.

When they stopped, Ming Ya asked, “Where is this?”

Zhu Yinluan had stopped crying, but her eyes were swollen to the size of walnuts from the tears.

Gazing at the alley, she recalled the marketplace Jiao Hui had mentioned—mostly outsiders went there, where no one would pay her any mind. She stepped out of the carriage and led Ming Ya on a wandering walk through the lanes.

At first, Ming Ya was wary of the alley, but seeing Zhu Yinluan navigate it with ease, she couldn’t help but wonder how her mistress knew the way.

Zhu Yinluan, too downcast, remained silent.

The alley, quiet by day, was even quieter at night. Absent were the patrolling officers of the capital’s Supervisory Department. Instead, makeshift stalls crowded the street, offering tables and stools, selling everything from sweet tangyuan to spicy noodles and flatbreads.

“Miss, you hardly touched dinner. Would you like something now?” Having not yet rounded the corner, Ming Ya hadn’t spotted the clinic.

Noticing Zhu Yinluan staring at a stall serving spicy noodle soup, she asked if she wanted to try it.

Zhu Yinluan stared for a long moment before sniffled and headed over.

Ming Ya hurried after her. As Zhu Yinluan sat, she got some snacks from the vendor.

When the noodles came steaming hot, Ming Ya worried it might be too spicy—Zhu Yinluan’s usual diet was quite mild. She offered to skim off the red broth, but Zhu Yinluan refused, taking the chopsticks and slowly eating, her face almost in the bowl.

Her expression was hidden, but Ming Ya saw tears dripping into the broth.

She handed her a handkerchief, but Zhu Yinluan didn’t take it.

As it grew later, the area grew emptier.

Zhu Yinluan finally looked up and told Ming Ya there was a clinic around the corner—would she fetch some medicine in case her stomach rebelled tomorrow? Ming Ya hesitated to leave her alone but had no choice. She hurried off.

Moments later, someone sat beside her. Zhu Yinluan assumed it was Ming Ya returning, but the figure was much taller, nearly blotting out the lantern light. She lifted her gaze and met a sharp, handsome profile.

“…?”

He hadn’t noticed her at first, his eyes fixed on the vendor kneading dough. Only when he sensed her stare did he turn. “Lady Zhu?” he asked, surprised.

Seeing the confusion and astonishment in his eyes, Zhu Yinluan knew why.

She was a mess—eyes swollen, lips stinging from the spice—undoubtedly unsightly.

Yet he had recognized her.

Little did she know, to him, she resembled nothing so much as a rabbit that had been badly wronged—not ugly or pitiable, but heartbreakingly vulnerable.

“Lady Zhu, what are you doing here?” he asked, his tone light, deftly easing her embarrassment.

“I’ve heard this stall’s spicy noodles are exceptional. To see you loved it so much you cried—I must try them myself.”

As he spoke, his attendant stepped forward and ordered a bowl, requesting the same as Zhu Yinluan’s.

His words drew a faint smile from her, easing her discomfort. She wiped her nose and pulled her cloak tighter.

Only then did she think to ask, “And you, my lord? Why are you here?”

Twice in one day—running into Shen Jingzhan again.

But Zhu Yinluan was not thinking about coincidences. She lacked the energy to dwell on it.

“My grandmother is ill. The medicine we procured earlier was missing an ingredient, so I came to fetch it. My younger sister wanted a bite to eat, so I thought to bring her something.”

“I saw a young woman eating here and assumed the fare must be good. I hadn’t expected it to be you.”

His explanation was thorough, and Zhu Yinluan’s unvoiced doubts faded unspoken. She nodded. “I see.”

After that, silence fell.

Zhu Yinluan had prepared herself for Shen Jingzhan possibly asking why she had come out without attendants, but he didn’t ask.

Perhaps he had already discerned her unspoken troubles, so he refrained from questioning.

She couldn’t help but marvel inwardly once more—this Young Master Shen was truly considerate and remarkably tactful in his actions.

When the spicy broth noodles were served, he picked up the wooden chopsticks and took a slow taste.

Zhu Yinluan watched as his movements were measured, every gesture elegant and refined.

Yet as he ate, his brows furrowed slightly, as if he, too, couldn’t tolerate the heat.

She said, “If Young Master Shen finds the spiciness unbearable, you can drink that.”

She pointed to the side—a bowl of spring onion soup served with the noodles. Zhu Yinluan had tried it earlier and found it quite good, mainly for its ability to cool the burn.

Shen Jingzhan followed her suggestion and took a sip.

“Indeed, very good.” The man’s brows relaxed, his lips pressed briefly together.

It was rare to see him in such an uncomfortable situation, making it all the more amusing.

Zhu Yinluan felt a slight urge to laugh, but how could she do so in front of him? So she schooled her features.

After this little episode, she felt somewhat better. But upon regaining her composure, she remembered the inappropriateness of their being alone. Though the place was quiet and sparsely populated, Young Master Shen was far too prominent in the capital. What if someone saw them and stirred up endless gossip?

So she came up with an excuse and said to Shen Jingzhan, “My maid went to fetch medicine and hasn’t returned yet. I’ve finished eating, so I’ll go check on her. Young Master Shen may take your time…”

But Shen Jingzhan replied, “As it happens, the servant I sent hasn’t returned either. I’ll have someone go look for them.”

Zhu Yinluan fell silent. She didn’t believe Shen Jingzhan failed to notice her intent to leave, yet he deliberately stopped her.

Before she could speak again, the man explained, “My lady, you may not be aware, but the capital has been unsafe recently. Though the Supervisory Department patrols, one must still be cautious late at night.”

“Once my men bring your maid back, I’ll arrange for someone to escort you unobtrusively back to the Wei household. That would be safer.”

While she appreciated his thoughtfulness, Zhu Yinluan also felt she owed him too much. Hesitating, she said, “The Wei family carriage is nearby. It should be fine—no need to trouble Young Master Shen.”

“Even so, it’s best to ensure safety. Rest assured, my men won’t show themselves.”

“Young Master Shen is too…”

“I know what you wish to say. If you feel indebted, then in the future, should I have need, I’ll ask for your assistance in return.”

“Even so, I am of low status. How could I possibly be of help to Young Master Shen…?”

What use could she possibly be to Shen Jingzhan?

Involuntarily, her thoughts turned to Lady Pang’s years of taunting her infertility, the neglect and mockery from her relatives. Her mood darkened again.

“Every person has their worth, my lady. You are intelligent—why must you confine yourself to others’ judgments and cause yourself unnecessary distress?”

Hearing this, Zhu Yinluan couldn’t help but look up at the man.

His voice was gentle, his expression softened by the candlelight. Beyond that, she felt… a sense of familiarity, as if she had seen him somewhere before, though she couldn’t recall.

“Great use, small use—who defines what is great or small? In my eyes, any usefulness is good.”

“Take that pouch of ambergris, for instance. You’ve fretted over it constantly, yet no matter how priceless it is, it remains just another medicinal ingredient. If it can heal and save lives, then it serves its purpose. Otherwise, leaving it unused is simply a waste.”

This was the second time the man had spoken these words.

He smiled faintly. “Life’s value is immeasurable—how can they be weighed in silver?”

“I say this not to lecture you, my lady, but because I sense you're feeling down, and I wished to offer some comfort. If I’ve overstepped, I hope you won’t take offense.”

“Not at all,” Zhu Yinluan said. “Young Master Shen is a good man.”

Shen Jingzhan gazed at her lowered face and, upon hearing this, gave a quiet laugh for some reason. “…Mn.”

Hearing his muffled laughter, Zhu Yinluan unconsciously responded with a soft “mm” of her own, her fingers tightening. “…”

At that moment, Ming Ya returned with Shen Jingzhan’s attendant. Clearly, the attendant had explained something, for Ming Ya showed no surprise upon seeing Shen Jingzhan.

The two exchanged no further words. Only as they parted did Shen Jingzhan give her a small box of pastries, saying they were palace-made—his younger sister hadn’t liked them, and it would be a shame to discard them. If she didn’t mind, she could try them.

After all he had just said, Zhu Yinluan couldn’t decline without appearing ungrateful. So she thanked him and accepted it.

On the way back, she looked back once.

Zhu Yinluan assumed Shen Jingzhan had merely sent someone to escort them discreetly. She didn’t know it was the man himself who was keeping watch over her.

From the shadows not far away, his inscrutable gaze remained fixed on the carriage—his gaze shadowed with unmistakable possessiveness that would not let her escape his notice.