Upon Her Lips - Chapter 33

Chapter 33

The day was short, and the night was long.

The light had long since vanished from her sight.

Her face had been ground into the rotting mud, and her throat could not produce a single cry for help. Even if she had screamed, what would it matter? Who would see? Who would come to save her?

She only had to endure—endure until the pain turned numb, until they no longer sought to punish her for her “sins.”

What was her sin? Was it accidentally witnessing the punishment of a servant? Or was it the sin of being born into this world at all?

Her chaotic mind spun with wild guesses as the sour taste of grass, dirt, and rotten fruit filled her mouth. They said she looked like a dog, crawling there to eat food off the ground.

If this can dissolve their anger and not involve the Lady…

The Lady.

Lady Mu Fei.

Yes, because the Lady existed in this world, she still had… light. The Lady was still in that hall. She didn’t know if the conversation had ended. It was a pity the cherries… weren’t delivered.

Yuran struggled to uphold her crumbling will and dignity. A noble girl’s foot had been pressing her head down for a long time, but suddenly, the heavy pressure vanished. Were these noble girls tired of tormenting her? Or were they just taking a break before continuing?

She lay patheticly on the ground, one hand tightly clutching the ring at her chest. She fought to deny herself even the chance to cry or beg. Slowly, she pushed herself up, lifting her stiff head to look forward toward the brilliant lights.

The once-quiet back garden was now crowded with people. Had their commotion been too loud? Had it drawn others?

But she couldn’t see clearly. Having been buried in darkness for so long, she couldn’t focus. She could only see a dark, slender silhouette walking toward her through the crowd.

The figure radiated a bone-chilling cold. Her somber expression made those around her recoil a few steps—especially the noble girl leading the “punishment,” who was forced to stop.

The silhouette said nothing. She simply knelt down and gently helped the kneeling servant girl up. When she saw the girl’s face, covered in filth and mud, her expression grew even colder. Yet, when the girl looked up at her, the woman suppressed all her dark emotions, silently using a handkerchief to wipe away the grime.

Yuran felt cold fingertips brush her cheek, followed by the delicate touch of the silk. Finally, she saw the face of the person before her. “Master, s-sor…” Sorry.

Her voice was instantly flooded with endless grievance and indignation. Tears welled up in her eyes. Mu Fei covered Yuran’s eyes with her fingertips and said softly, “Don’t cry.”

Yuran bit her trembling lip hard, forcing herself not to sob, refusing to let the tears fall. Mu Fei watched, wiped away the last bit of dirt, and then moved her fingers away from Yuran’s eyes.

“Good girl.”

But Mu Fei’s fingertips were now scalded by hot tears.

When Yuran looked at Lady Mu Fei again, the Lady’s eyes had already turned a terrifying scarlet, her pupils narrowed into vertical slits. Mu Fei touched Yuran’s messy hair and slowly stood up, completely unbothered that her long gown was now stained with mud.

“I always thought that ‘punishing a servant’ was a matter for the family they belong to. Since when do outsiders do the work for us?” A slow, deliberate voice came from her throat, carrying the eerie chill of the winter wind.

Mu Fei walked up to Beatrice’s sister, Ming Campbell, who was visibly stunned. Clearly, the girl had no idea that the child they were humiliating belonged to the Mu Estate.

“She… she got mud on my dress! She was disrespectful to me!”

The moment Ming finished her sentence, a heavy slap landed on her left cheek. She froze in shock, looking at the Head of the Mu Family in disbelief. The act startled the other nobles and even drew the attention of the mansion guards.

Mu Fei gave a cold sneer and tilted her head slightly, pulling off her glove.

“Disrespectful? I am many years your senior. By what authority do you scream at me without a title of respect, Miss Ming Campbell?”

Ming listened to that icy tone. Mu Fei, the current Head of the Mu Family. Had she just been slapped in her own home over such a reason? Ming looked at her with fury, wishing she could strangle the woman who had shamed her. Consumed by rage and devoid of regret, she lunged at Mu Fei in an attempt to attack.

However, before she could touch her, another figure flashed forward to stop her. A figure in red.

Beatrice Campbell.

“Sister…!” Ming didn’t understand why her own sister was stopping her.

Beatrice smiled and blocked her sister’s path, not dignifying the girl’s foolish impulses with an answer. Not if she wants to live.

“Excellency Mu Fei, it seems there has been a misunderstanding here.”

Beatrice spoke to the Mu Matriarch with a smile. It was a banquet, after all. Compared to a slap on Ming’s face and the life of a lowly servant, everyone knew it was time to let it go. Otherwise, both families would lose face.

“I only saw my person being trampled in the grass for no reason,” Mu Fei raised an eyebrow, staring into Beatrice’s grey-gold eyes, letting every word sink in. “Since you call it ‘punishment,’ I would like to view your mansion’s surveillance to see exactly what happened.”

Ming’s heart skipped a beat. She never expected this eccentric woman to take things this far over a mere servant. Beatrice knew her sister’s cruel nature, so she leaned closer to Mu Fei, lowering her voice to negotiate. “For the sake of our fathers’ friendship… besides, your servant isn’t in any life-threatening danger.”

Mu Fei looked at Beatrice and smiled, but her eyes remained frozen.

“If you cannot provide that, then I shall handle this in my own way.” She turned her gaze toward the culprit hiding behind Beatrice—the star of the evening, the pampered eldest daughter.

“My way is quite old-fashioned and direct. After all, that is how my mansion treats people. No outsider has the right to punish anyone from my home—even a dog. To do so is to overstep. My father taught me that those who overstep should be killed. Furthermore—”

Mu Fei turned to Dao Lei, gesturing for him to cover Yuran’s eyes.

Then, her words vanished into the freezing winter wind. Before anyone could react, a bloody gash appeared across Ming’s left ear. The wound was as clean as if made by the world’s sharpest scalpel. In an instant, the air was saturated with the high-concentration scent of pureblood, followed by Ming’s piercing scream.

“Mu Fei!”

Beatrice’s shout did not stop her. In less than a second—a window so brief even Beatrice couldn’t intervene—Ming’s ear was completely severed. The left ear, adorned with a priceless sapphire, fell into Mu Fei’s palm.

“Ah—!! My ear! My ear…!”

Ming’s agonizing shriek shocked the entire banquet—the high nobles and the bowing servants alike. No one stepped forward to help. Even Ming’s own sister, the most powerful noble in the house, only spoke to stop her; she did not move to strike.

It was a dramatic scene for a banquet, but the shamed protagonist was the host herself. All because of a mere servant, the young Head of the Mu Family had acted with the ruthlessness the rumors described.

Mu Fei looked coldly at the girl and the Campbell guards. She curled her lips into a faint smile, walked up to Beatrice, and looked her in the eyes. “Now we are even.”

She placed the blood-stained ear into Beatrice’s hand. “I came in a hurry and couldn’t prepare a birthday gift for the Second Miss. Consider this a generous tribute.”

Beatrice didn’t get angry; she laughed. She knew that fighting Mu Fei now would cause a collapse of many intertwined interests, especially with so many eyes watching. She accepted the “gift” and ordered the servants to take the wailing Ming to her room.

Mu Fei turned and walked back to Yuran, whose eyes were still covered by Dao Lei. The girl’s legs were shaking; kneeling on the frozen ground for so long had made it hard for her even to stand. In the faint moonlight, Yuran could only feel the Lady leaning down toward her…

Mu Fei draped her own black coat over the girl. Before the eyes of the entire assembly, the Lady carefully picked the girl up with one arm.

Carrying a servant—the act was incomprehensible to the onlookers. Mu Fei didn’t care. She used the black coat to shield the huddled “little thing,” pulling her entirely into her shadow. Dao Lei followed closely behind. The Campbell guards made no move to stop them, returning to their posts at Beatrice’s command.

“I shall visit the Mu Estate soon, Excellency Mu Fei,” Beatrice called out as they left. She wanted answers to her suspicions. When she looked at that girl, the scent had been… so strange.

Mu Fei glanced back at Beatrice with a somber look, then stared straight ahead, holding the mud-stained girl tightly as she left the brilliant lights of Misty Mountain.

All the way, Yuran was held in Mu Fei’s arms. Her face was buried in the Lady’s shoulder. Her cold, shivering body was shielded from the wind and the silence by the Lady’s embrace. To be held by her was something Yuran had never dared to dream. When she finally felt the Lady’s cold body temperature, Yuran realized her eyes were already soaked.

She didn’t want the Lady to carry her—it wasn’t proper, and her clothes were filthy. But the Lady didn’t stop.

Mu Fei felt the hot tears burning her skin, one after another. She pulled back the black cloth covering Yuran’s head and looked down. Her voice was cold as always, but her eyes had lost their edge, carrying a trace of softness.

“Yuran, are you afraid of me?”