[Quick Transmigration] I Cried After Scumming the Little Puppy - Chapter 17

By the second watch of the night, the manor had fallen into a deep silence. Tao Fen brought hot water to attend to Ren Xingxian’s evening wash. Ren Xingxian leaned back, her eyes heavy and contemplative.

As Tao Fen finished smoothing the bedsheets and prepared to retreat with the basin, Ren Xingxian spoke, her voice cutting through the quiet. “Tao Fen, tell me—since you entered this manor, how has the family treated you?”

Tao Fen’s expression flickered with trepidation. She replied respectfully, “The Master, the Mistress, and the Young Miss have all been very kind to me. I am deeply grateful!”

Ren Xingxian’s phoenix-like eyes flashed. “And what of Fang Yu?”

Tao Fen froze, a thousand thoughts racing through her mind before she answered with unwavering resolve. “I will be grateful for Miss Fang’s help for the rest of my life.”

“I see. From tomorrow morning, you are no longer needed at the Fragrant Pavilion. Go help in the kitchens. Your room must be cleared out by tomorrow as well.”

“As you wish.”

Tao Fen remained perfectly composed, showing not a hint of resentment toward the arrangement. She could never forget how her own mother, desperate for a few taels of silver, had tried to force her to marry the village drunk. Fang Yu had happened to pass by and threw ten taels of silver at her parents to shut them up, saving her.

Tao Fen had been too afraid to return home and begged Fang Yu to take her away, promising to do anything. Fang Yu, unable to resist her persistent pleading, brought her into the Vice-Magistrate’s manor. From then on, her life was transformed; she had a monthly salary, food, clothes, and friends. That debt of gratitude was etched into her soul.

The night deepened until even the cicadas fell silent. Ren Xingxian tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. Tao Fen’s words echoed in her mind. That girl is certainly loyal.

The medicine she had taken earlier was beginning to wear off. The wound on her abdomen began to itch, a constant, physical reminder of the precious child she had lost. Her eyes began to sting with unshed tears.

Clink.

A faint vibration from the window startled her. Ren Xingxian snapped out of her thoughts, quickly closing her eyes and feigning a deep sleep. She wanted to see who was bold enough to break into her chambers in the middle of the night.

Holding her breath, she sensed a dark shadow leap through the window. Moments later, the figure climbed onto her bed. The mattress dipped, and a familiar, pleasant scent wafted toward her.

Fang Yu was feeling quite smug. Her timing was impeccable—everyone was asleep, and she was wide awake. There was a certain thrill to this “thief in the night” routine. As she reached out to peel back Ren Xingxian’s blanket for a better look, a powerful grip clamped onto her wrist.

“Who are you? Why have you broken into the manor?”

The voice was clear and sharp, hardly the reaction of someone startled awake. Realizing the act was up, Fang Yu didn’t panic. Instead, she adopted a saccharine, melodic tone. “Xian’er, it’s me.”

Ren Xingxian nearly jumped out of her skin. She cursed her useless maids for failing to watch a woman who was supposed to be drugged into a stupor!

Fang Yu wasn’t about to give her the chance to scream. She pinned the woman down, leaning close to her ear. “Surely a lady gets lonely sleeping all by herself?”

Ren Xingxian’s strength was waning; between the medicine and the fact that she had been unable to keep any food down for days, she was in no better shape than Fang Yu. By the third watch, fatigue had set in. She found herself unable to break Fang Yu’s hold.

Giving up on her futile struggle, Ren Xingxian lay still. Seeing her compliance, Fang Yu slid to the outer edge of the bed and wrapped an arm around her waist. It wasn’t the soft, pillowy sensation she expected, but rather the firm, toned resilience of a martial artist. The tactile contrast was mesmerizing.

Ren Xingxian turned her face away, her voice icy. “I am not your precious Lian Rui.”

Fang Yu pressed closer. “But you are my lawfully wedded wife.”

She actually acknowledges this relationship? The one she treated as a curse? Bitterness rose in Ren Xingxian’s throat. She leaned in and pressed a kiss toward the corner of Fang Yu’s lips. Taken aback by the sudden move, Fang Yu’s body moved faster than her mind—she dodged.

“As I thought. You still cannot bear to be near me.” Ren Xingxian sighed. She didn’t know why Fang Yu’s personality had shifted today, but love is the one thing that cannot be faked.

“I.” Fang Yu wanted to explain, but no convincing argument came to mind. She simply held Ren Xingxian firmly, trying to think of a strategy.

And as she held her, she fell fast asleep.

In a state of half-slumber, Ren Xingxian thought she was dreaming. She saw her lost child again, demanding to know why it had been forsaken. She woke in a cold sweat, only to find a pair of slender arms draped across her chest.

The person beside her was mumbling in her sleep—broken, nonsensical fragments about “missions,” “systems,” and “going home.” Ren Xingxian only understood the last part.

Fang Yu has never once considered this manor her home.

A look of cold ferocity crossed Ren Xingxian’s face. A desperate, dark impulse surged within her. She shoved Fang Yu’s arms aside with disgust and climbed out of bed, throwing on an outer robe.

She lit a small oil lamp and stepped out. Bi He was dead to the world, but Lan Xiang was startled awake by the door. She rubbed her eyes and rushed out, turning pale at the sight of Ren Xingxian. “Miss! You’ve only just begun to recover!

Where are you going in this damp night air? The doctor said you must avoid the cold!”

Ren Xingxian pursed her lips. “I will be back shortly.”

“Let me go in your stead!” Lan Xiang pleaded.

“Quiet.”

The impulse was a fever now; she couldn’t wait another second. Ren Xingxian pushed past her. Lan Xiang hesitated, then pulled her sleeves tight and followed her from a distance. She saw Ren Xingxian enter the martial training room and emerge shortly after, clutching something tightly.

When she saw Ren Xingxian heading back toward the bedroom, Lan Xiang breathed a sigh of relief and hurried ahead to wait.

Gazing at the Thunder-Thorn Whip that had been her companion for over a decade, a tender, twisted smile played on Ren Xingxian’s lips. She gently looped the weapon around the neck of the sleeping Fang Yu.

She let out a soft, rhythmic giggle. “I suppose I should treat you to a ‘late-night snack’ today.”

Suddenly, she jerked her hands back, tightening the coil with a violent snap. Fang Yu’s face instantly turned a bruised purple, her eyes bulging. Ren Xingxian’s expression was one of pure, savage malice, yet the corners of her mouth curled deeper into a smile.

It was as if a demon in her heart had been unleashed, savoring the taste of sweet vengeance.

The Thunder-Thorn Whip twisted tighter and tighter, leaving a deep, raw ring of red around Fang Yu’s neck. Outside, the heavens suddenly erupted in a roar of thunder and a torrential downpour. A flash of lightning tore through the sky, illuminating Ren Xingxian’s pale, ghostly face—making her look more like a vengeful spirit than a woman.