Chapter 8: What weapons does Jiang Lingyao have to contend with a transmigrator like me?

The scene fell into a sudden, deathly silence, so quiet one could hear a pin drop.

Pei Xingzhi’s throat bobbed as he said indifferently, "I will see you home."

At these words, Song Lian’er’s eyes reddened. She tugged at Jiang Xiuyuan’s sleeve with a look of grievance, on the verge of tears.

"Brother Pei, we still have serious business to attend to."

Jiang Lingyao said nothing; hearing this, she simply turned to leave.

Seeing this, Song Lian’er stepped forward with a delicate, affected air and said to Pei Xingzhi, "Brother Pei, why don’t you try the soup I brewed?"

She cast a fleeting glance at Jiang Lingyao, feeling triumphant. Attempting to compete with her? It was nothing but a fool’s errand! With a single word, she could make Jiang Lingyao’s own brother close his eyes to reality and defend her, all while pushing her closer to Pei Xingzhi. What could Jiang Lingyao possibly use to fight her?

Jiang Lingyao felt no ripples in her heart as she heard the commotion behind her. She merely quickened her pace, desperate to flee the small courtyard that had once offered her such warmth. However, her knees were swollen and aching so intensely that she was forced to slow down, inching forward step by step.

Ignoring the varying gazes of the maids and servants, Jiang Lingyao showed no hint of vulnerability. Her steps were slow and heavy, betraying nothing of the severity of her injuries. As she walked, she pondered where she might find suitable medicinal ointment. Her injuries were not the type that common salves could heal. She hadn't lacked for such things before; she had been showered with gifts from the palace and treasures sourced by her family.

It was a pity that all those precious items had been handed over to Song Lian’er by Jiang Xiuyuan, simply because she had pricked her finger while embroidering, leaving a mark so faint it was barely visible.

"Jiang Lingyao."

A cold, detached voice suddenly came from behind her. Jiang Lingyao startled, turning to see Pei Xingzhi striding toward her, his expression grim.

As he drew closer, his brows knit together tightly. A year had passed, and the baby fat on Jiang Lingyao’s cheeks had vanished, leaving her face gaunt. This made her eyes appear even larger, sending a sharp pang of tension through his heart.

After Jiang Lingyao had made her mistake, he had ordered people to look after her at the temple. When the Song family learned of this, they had taken her back themselves, telling him not to worry, as they had already seen to everything and would ensure she suffered no injustice. With the Song family involved, he had naturally been reassured. But looking at her now, had she truly suffered no injustice?

"Does Lord Fang require something?"

Jiang Lingyao’s tone was distant. She took a step back to increase the space between them, which caught Pei Xingzhi off guard.

The distracting thoughts in his mind vanished instantly, and his expression grew even colder. He produced a container of medicine and held it out to her. "Take this. I heard that after Lian’er’s birthday, you were punished with kneeling again for another mistake."

Jiang Lingyao paused, but made no move to accept it, stepping back once more. "I thank Lord Pei for his concern."

Her initial infatuation had been real. She was not a doll carved from wood or stone; she was a woman of flesh and blood. Confronted by the very man she had once adored, personally offering her medicine, how could her heart remain entirely still? Had this been the past, she would have long since snatched the medicine with a joyful face.

But now, she only shook her head, suppressing that faint, lingering flutter in her chest. She said calmly, "Such fine medicine would be wasted on me. Please, take it back."

What was this sudden concern of his? Was it pity, born only because he found her so wretched?

Jiang Lingyao veiled the darkness in her eyes, and they stood in silence.

Pei Xingzhi despised this look of calm detachment. A flicker of inexplicable, thin anger surfaced on his face, and he said coldly, "Lian’er did not mean to make things difficult for you just now. She is sensitive by nature; do not hold it against her."

In the past, whatever he gave her, Jiang Lingyao had cherished. Why was she so indifferent today? Was she still sulking? A year had passed—why did she seem like an entirely different person? Why was there such a chasm between them?

Growing more displeased, he thrust the medicine into her arms. "I do not wish to say more."

Jiang Lingyao was stunned. She looked at the medicine in her arms and, under his cold, stern gaze, finally replied, "Thank you."

So, he had come to apologize on Song Lian’er’s behalf. No wonder he had been so abrupt and cold.

Jiang Lingyao understood. Thinking of her own blackened, swollen knees, she kept the medicine, feeling a pang of pity for her former self. She could not help but let out a low sigh.

Her palms ached from clenching them so tightly. As she turned to leave, she heard Pei Xingzhi say, "Jiang Lingyao, do not overthink things. Stay quietly and wait for me to marry you."

She faltered, but did not stop her pace, nor did she respond.

For some reason, as Pei Xingzhi watched Jiang Lingyao’s thin, retreating silhouette, his eyes darkened abruptly. He instinctively wanted to speak, but seeing Jiang Lingyao quicken her steps as if desperate to escape, the words died in his throat.

When he returned to the study, Jiang Xiuyuan watched him enter and asked with a furrowed brow and a probing tone, "Where did Brother Pei go just now? Did you go to find Jiang Lingyao?"

Pei Xingzhi sat down, took a small sip of tea, and replied coldly, "No."

He was a man of cold temperament who disliked idle talk, and Jiang Xiuyuan dared not press further, lest he cause offense.

After a moment, Jiang Xiuyuan broke the silence in the room. "Brother Pei, why don't you reconsider? Would you be willing to make Lian’er a wife of equal status, so that she may marry into the Pei family alongside Jiang Lingyao?"