Transmigrating Behind the Mirror to Become Her Guardian Lady - Chapter 12

The sudden crash startled Shu Mengli, making her flinch. Her first instinct was to ask what had happened, but the moment she opened her mouth, she remembered she was currently just a mirror. She could only remain silent and wait for Jiang Weilu to investigate.

Yet, she couldn’t help but worry about the child. Shu Mengli reached out and lightly tapped the water curtain, signaling Jiang Weilu to be careful. Fortunately, the girl received the signal and brushed her hand against the small mirror, silently assuring her: I know, Sister. Don’t worry.

The sound had come from just behind the next row of flower stands. Jiang Weilu rounded the corner cautiously and revealed the scene to Shu Mengli, who sat powerless in the mirror space.

The old butler whom Shu Mengli already suspected was more than he seemed—was curled on the ground in agony. His hands gripped his right leg, and cold sweat poured down his face. Beside him, a beautiful flower pot lay shattered in pieces.

The scene in the water curtain remained still for a long moment. Shu Mengli couldn’t tell if the child was frozen in shock or if she simply had no intention of helping. She tapped the curtain again to nudge her.

Prompted by her Sister, Jiang Weilu finally moved. She stepped forward and helped the butler up. The old man leaned heavily against her, cold sweat dripping even in the dead of winter. It took a few deep breaths before he found the strength to thank her.

“Many thanks, Eldest Miss.”

In the lonely desolation of the Pear Town villa, there were only the two of them (and Shu Mengli’s presence in the mirror). Over the last half-month, the butler had become Jiang Weilu’s “practice tool” for smiling; as a result, their relationship was decent.

Jiang Weilu shook her head, her lips curving into a perfectly practiced, fake smile. “It’s nothing. What happened to you?”

The butler winced in pain. “An old ailment. My leg hurts whenever the weather turns cold.” He added with a forced chuckle, “Looks like there will be heavy snow again tomorrow.”

Jiang Weilu let him lean on her but remained detached. She offered another smile but had no real interest in his suffering. Sensing her subtle distance, the butler shook his head with a smile.

“Eldest Miss, don’t mind this old man. Let me sit here for a moment; I’ll be fine soon.”

Jiang Weilu watched him, her gaze deep and silent as if she were contemplating something profound. Then, she simply nodded, said “Alright” with a smile, and turned to leave once she saw he could stand on his own.

The Shadow of Indifference

Inside the greenhouse, the butler looked even more aged. He gripped a shaky flower stand, bent over in pain, and began to hobble forward one agonizing step at a time.

Inside the mirror space, Shu Mengli was stunned by Jiang Weilu’s decisive departure. She really just left? She didn’t even help him to a chair?

But upon reflection, Shu Mengli wasn’t entirely surprised. Through their time together, she had sensed that while the child could laugh and play in her presence, her core remained gloomy and eccentric. Years of trauma had made her insular to the point where her empathy was severely stunted. To Lulu, if no one reached out to her when she was in trouble, why should she reach out to others?

Shu Mengli shook her head violently. No! My sweet Lulu cannot become like this! She couldn’t let the girl live only for the mirror. Shu Mengli didn’t know when she might vanish forever, so Lulu needed a real life with real connections. She wanted her to be kind and brave not a cold island in her own world.

Once Jiang Weilu reached a secluded spot, Shu Mengli spoke softly. “Lulu… do you think the Butler Grandpa is piteous?”

Jiang Weilu’s footsteps faltered. Her pupils shrank, and her heart skipped a beat.

Did I do something wrong? Should I have stayed? Is Sister calling me out because I didn’t help him? Will she… will she hate me for this?

In an instant, Jiang Weilu’s brilliant but guarded mind went into overdrive, scaring her into a standstill. She was a child of the Jiang family—a den of foxes—and she was incredibly smart. Over the last two weeks, her progress in calligraphy, painting, and academics had been genius-level. She immediately grasped the expectation behind Shu Mengli’s words.

Sister wanted her to be kind. She wanted her to be a “good” person.

Smiling could be practiced, but how do you practice kindness? Jiang Weilu felt a surge of panic. Selfishness and indifference were etched into her bones. If Sister found out she couldn’t change, would she stop liking her? Would she leave?

No! I cannot let Sister hate me.

Jiang Weilu took a deep breath, suppressing her panic and hiding her indifferent heart. She donned a mask of concern and pitched her voice to the “kind” tone she knew her Sister preferred.

“He… he does seem a little piteous, doesn’t he?”

The Art of the Massage

This was the drawback of being trapped in the mirror. With the mirror in her pocket and Shu Mengli sitting before the water curtain, she couldn’t see the girl’s face. Shu Mengli let out a sigh of relief, believing the child was simply young and still had hope of being “bent” back toward the light.

“Then Lulu, why don’t we go back and help him?”

Jiang Weilu touched the small mirror at her chest and let out her own silent sigh of relief. She smiled sweetly and replied, “Okay!”

Ten minutes later, the butler still struggling through the greenhouse—was shocked to see Jiang Weilu return. She wore a perfectly pitched smile and reached out to support him.

“I couldn’t stop worrying about you, so I came back to check. I just remembered that a ‘sister’ I know taught me a massage technique. Maybe it can help.”

The “sister” was, of course, Shu Mengli. The technique came from her grandmother, a renowned practitioner of Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM). Her grandfather, a famous calligrapher, had injured his leg in his youth and suffered from the same recurring cold-weather pain. Her grandmother had created a specialized massage for him that was incredibly effective.

The butler looked at Jiang Weilu with a strange, discerning gaze. Incredible. The cold-blooded Jiang family actually produced a warm-hearted little thing?

Luckily he kept the thought to himself, or Shu Mengli would have rolled her eyes—evidently, indifference was a Jiang family DNA trait.

“Why would the Eldest Miss learn such a thing?” the butler asked.

Thinking of her Sister, Jiang Weilu’s smile became genuine. “It’s always useful to learn more. Why don’t you let me try?”

The butler was an old soul; he saw she didn’t want to elaborate and didn’t press. He nodded. “Then, many thanks to the Eldest Miss.”

As for why a butler would dare let the “Master’s daughter” massage his leg? Even if Old Master Jiang himself offered, this butler might feel he was worthy of the service.

Jiang Weilu helped him to his bedroom and knelt down. She rolled up his trouser leg, revealing a calf as thin and withered as an old branch. Both the girl and the guardian in the mirror hissed in a collective intake of breath.

The leg was more than just thin; it was covered in jagged, twisted scars that looked like centipedes crawling over the skin. One scar was so deep it had clearly reached the bone—the source of his lifelong agony.

Jiang Weilu lowered her gaze, steadied her emotions, and began the massage exactly as Shu Mengli instructed. Her hands were warm, and her pressure was perfectly balanced.

A Gift of Hope

The butler soon felt as if her hands carried magic. The areas she pressed grew warmer and warmer until a current of heat began to circulate through his body. As time passed, the warmth turned into a searing heat, causing sweat to bead on his forehead.

But the pain began to retreat. The agony that lived in his bones felt the pressure of the heat and, for the first time in years, showed signs of fading.

The butler was ecstatic, nearly jumping from his chair. His eyes grew misty. To someone who had sought a cure for years to no avail, this was a miracle. The pain of such an ailment is hard to describe it is a slow, agonizing “death by a thousand cuts” that makes one wish they could tear open their own flesh to scratch the bone.

He had only agreed to let her try out of a “better than nothing” attitude. He never expected it to actually work. Moreover, such a technique was clearly a “secret” or a profound skill, yet the child had performed it openly before him. The message was clear: Success or failure, I am giving this technique to you.

Now that he had a method for long-term treatment, the butler was overwhelmed. He took a deep breath, stood up, and gave Jiang Weilu a polite, gentlemanly bow.

“Many thanks, Eldest Miss.”