Chapter 7: Just Thinking About It Hurts

She stood there quietly, surrounded by the same bustling scene. Sunlight filtered through the treetops, casting a gentle glow on her delicate cheeks. Her skin was as smooth as porcelain, her brows dark and elegant, as if lightly sketched by an artist’s brush with exquisite finesse. Silky hair flowed like satin in the breeze, ethereal and dreamlike. Yet, those eyes—dim and lonely—though beautiful, lacked a certain spark of vitality.

Momentarily lost in thought, Zhu Yansheng clicked her tongue, shook her head, and sighed deeply, “A beauty, a great beauty… such a pity, such a pity!”

“A pity, my foot! If she were a fool, I’d serve you like a beast of burden!” Seeing her, Zhao Ziqian felt a sudden pang below, involuntarily shivering. The cruel heart of a woman—that was no exaggeration. Someone actually called her a fool? Damn it, does a fool know how to strike at a man’s weakest spot? One day, he would find whoever misled him and make that person suffer the consequences.

“Oh?” His words caught Zhu Yansheng’s attention; a flicker of contemplation crossed her eyes. “Why do you say that?”

“Why ask? I’m not in the mood to tell you!” If he revealed that he’d been struck in a vulnerable spot by a ‘fool,’ she’d laugh at him forever. Just wait—once he finds proof that she’s not a fool, he’ll clear her name. For now, patience, patience, patience!

“Oh, when did you become so deep, you fool? You make me think of a saying.” Ah, at some point, a day without teasing the fool felt utterly wrong—poor me!

Zhao Ziqian was still feeling sharp pangs and couldn’t think too much. Unguarded, he asked, “What saying?”

“A wretch is just pretentious!” His biting tongue was unmatched, his words ruthless, leaving his opponents speechless.

Damn, as soon as he spoke, he realized he'd fallen into a trap. Sure enough, don’t expect that sly fox to turn over a new leaf. Hmph, he ignored him, shot him a glare, and prepared to close his eyes to rest. His gaze casually swept across a certain place—only to find the beauty had already gone.

Zhu Yansheng’s sharp eyes fixed on the departing figure. Her steps were light and steady, entirely unlike a foolish person. Moreover, she had seen—

After standing by the roadside for a moment, she turned and headed in a familiar direction. After a few steps, she encountered Uncle Hai walking toward her.

Uncle Hai nearly broke down in tears. Though he received a message from the young lady, waiting for several minutes had made him anxious beyond control. Unable to hold back, he hurried over. Beyond their master-servant relationship, the bond forged over so many years was not something that could be erased overnight. Seeing her, he quickened his pace and spoke with concern, “Miss, what’s wrong?”

Chu Yitong looked up at him. He was over fifty, his hair white, with the marks of time etched deeply on his face, yet his posture remained upright. His eyes overflowed with affection. Moving his lips slightly, his voice was as soft as a whisper, “Uncle Hai, it’s nothing. I just needed to clear my mind. Sorry to worry you.”

With those simple words, tears brimmed in his eyes. He kept repeating, “It’s alright, it’s alright!”

Soon after, the car carrying Chu Yitong drove home. Her gaze fell on the passing scenery outside the window, while scenes played repeatedly in her mind. She struggled to distinguish reality from dream.

Slowly closing her eyes, the chaotic memories—were they dreams, or something else? No matter what, there lingered an inexplicable strangeness, as if, from the moment she opened her eyes, the wheel of fate had embarked on a different journey. Her slender, pale hand clenched into a fist by her side, a proud and fierce expression carved between her brows.

Through the rearview mirror, Uncle Hai saw her in the back seat. A smile appeared on his aged face as he murmured, “The young lady is once again the young lady.” His voice was soft and scattered on the wind.