Chapter 87: Completing the Task (1/2)

Lin Ting’s heart sank as she realized Duan Xinning had likely fallen prey to Xia Zimo’s silver-tongued charm once again.

She shot to her feet, determined to uncover the truth.

Duan Ling, who was sitting beside her, sensed her movement instantly.

As Lin Ting abruptly left the bench, he caught her wrist, tilting his head with a puzzled look.

“Where are you going?”

“To find them.”

Lin Ting needed to know why Xinning had so easily forgiven Xia Zimo.

Without answers, she’d be too furious to sleep, maybe even wake in the dead of night plotting “murder.”

She wasn’t trying to tear apart the story’s fated lovers, drawn together like magnets, but she wished Xinning wouldn’t forgive so readily.

Xia Zimo might have his reasons, but those reasons didn’t justify bedding Xinning and then vanishing without a word.

If he wanted her forgiveness, he should pay a price.

Yet Xinning had let him off too easily.

Lin Ting finally understood the bitter taste of watching someone fail to live up to expectations.

If Xinning had only waited a little longer before forgiving him, Lin Ting wouldn’t be so livid.

She’d told Xinning just today not to forgive him lightly.

But the real blame lay with Xia Zimo, and Lin Ting’s fists itched with the urge to act.

Duan Ling still held her wrist, his fingers pressing against the jade bracelet on her arm.

“Didn’t Lingyun say she wanted to meet Xia Zimo alone? Let’s not disturb them.”

Lin Ting pretended she didn’t know they’d already reconciled—she’d only learned of it through the system’s prompt.

“They’ve been talking for nearly an hour. I’m worried and want to check on them.”

His lashes flickered slightly.

“When they’re done, Lingyun will come find you in the back courtyard.”

Ever since Lin Ting’s abduction, the estate had been surrounded day and night by Imperial guards.

As long as Xinning and Xia Zimo met in the front courtyard and didn’t leave, they’d be safe.

Lin Ting couldn’t sit still any longer, her patience fraying.

“I still want to go see.”

“I’ll go with you.”

In the front courtyard, there was a reception hall for guests, where Xinning and Xia Zimo had gone.

Lin Ting hurried toward it, her steps quick and purposeful.

As she entered the hall, the sharp tang of blood hit her.

Her gaze swept the room, landing on Xia Zimo kneeling before Xinning.

A fresh cut marred his wrist, blood dripping—the source of the metallic scent.

Xinning was frantically searching for something to bandage him with, too panicked to remember she could summon a servant to help.

Lin Ting’s eyelid twitched.

What was this scene?

Was this the classic trope where the hero, realizing his wrongs, grovels in regret, kneels, and even harms himself to win the heroine’s forgiveness?

It was straight out of a melodramatic, old-school romance novel.

Lin Ting felt a lump in her throat, a helpless frustration at her inability to alter the story’s course.

Xinning noticed Lin Ting and Duan Ling, her voice trembling with a sob.

“Leyun, Second Brother.”

Duan Ling, accustomed to blood, calmly called for a servant to tend to Xia Zimo’s wound.

Xia Zimo rose from his knees but looked only at Xinning, ignoring everyone else.

Lin Ting pulled Xinning into the inner room of the hall, fetching water to wash the blood from her hands.

Trying to suppress her irritation and the feeling that her “cabbage” had been uprooted by a “pig,” she asked, “What happened?”

Xinning, still reeling from Xia Zimo’s words, couldn’t answer immediately.

Lin Ting’s impatience bubbled over.

“Come on, tell me.”

They were alone in the inner room, safe from eavesdroppers.

Finally, Xinning spoke.

Xia Zimo hadn’t proposed because he’d discovered his father, Marquis Shian, was plotting treason.

Though he was the marquis’s son, he couldn’t dissuade his father, nor could he bring himself to betray his family and snuff out their last hope.

He also didn’t want to drag Xinning into the mess.

When he explained this, Xinning found it unimaginable—treason?

Her mind was a jumble, but she clung to Lin Ting’s advice not to forgive him easily.

Yet when Xia Zimo tried to embrace her, Xinning, in a fit of anger, grabbed a small knife from a fruit tray and pointed it at him.

She’d only meant to scare him, to make him leave, but her trembling hand had accidentally cut him.

Even then, Xia Zimo didn’t back away.

Instead, he knelt before her, pleading for forgiveness.

He swore he’d always intended to propose and marry her, but the rebellion was a done deal.

Turning back now meant death.

The Marquis of Shian had betrayed Emperor Jiade, and betraying the Xie family’s army to return to the emperor’s side would doom the Xia clan.

Emperor Jiade would never accept a family that had once turned traitor.

If Xinning wouldn’t end her pregnancy, Xia Zimo asked her to wait for him.

If the rebellion succeeded, he’d marry her with all the grandeur of an eight-bearer sedan.

If it failed, he’d face the executioner alone, never implicating her.

To prove his sincerity, he wrote a marriage contract in his own blood.

Xinning, timid and soft-hearted as cotton, was shaken by his words and the sight of his blood.

In her panic to get his wound treated, she agreed to the marriage.

After recounting the events, Xinning hung her head, unable to meet Lin Ting’s gaze.

Her hand unconsciously drifted to her stomach, her voice barely a whisper.

“Leyun, I know I was wrong to forgive him so easily. I’m sorry.”

Lin Ting was silent for a long moment then she replied, “You don’t owe me an apology. You haven’t wronged me. In this life, you only need to answer to yourself. As long as you don’t regret your choice, that’s enough. I know this isn’t easy for you, and the fault lies with him.”

By accepting Xia Zimo’s blood-written contract and agreeing to marry him, Xinning had completed the final task, even if their marriage never came to pass.

Still, Lin Ting felt powerless to change their story.

She’d warned Xinning to avoid pregnancy, and despite precautions, it had happened anyway.

Her anger was futile.

Xinning’s eyes reddened, her voice breaking.

“Leyun, do you think I’m completely useless?”

Lin Ting, without a handkerchief, used her sleeve to wipe Xinning’s tears.

“Why are you crying again? Stop it. He’s the useless one, not you.”

Xinning’s tears fell harder.

“Why would the Marquis of Shian rebel?” she asked.

“He’s a marquis, and the emperor trusts him so much.”

Lin Ting thought to herself that Xinning was as naive as ever.

“Some people’s hunger for power knows no bounds. Being a marquis isn’t enough for him.”

“Leyun, did you and the Second Brother know about this long ago?”

Xinning had noticed Lin Ting’s calm reaction—most people would be shocked to hear of treason among those close to them.

Xinning herself had initially doubted Xia Zimo, wondering if he was lying to deceive her.

Lin Ting downed a cup of cold tea to cool her temper.

“I only found out after arriving in Ancheng that Xia Zimo was secretly meeting with the fifth Young Master Xie. I didn’t know much earlier than you.”

“And Second Brother…” Xinning hesitated.

Lin Ting knew what she was asking.

“Duan Ling won’t report this to the emperor.”

Everyone knew the Imperial guards were fiercely loyal to the emperor.

Xinning was stunned and asked, “Did the Second Brother say that himself?”

Lin Ting steadied her emotions and replied, “If he wanted to report it, he would’ve done so already.”

Xinning faltered, her words halting.

“Second Brother is a Imperial Guard head. Why would he cover for Zimo? Unless he also wants to…”

Rebel?

“He doesn’t.” Lin Ting glanced at the outer hall, where she could see the servants leaving.

“Xia Zimo’s wound should be bandaged now. I’ll go with you to see him.”

As they stepped into the outer hall, Xia Zimo’s gaze fixed on Xinning.

“Lingyun.”

Xinning ignored him.

When Xia Zimo reached for her hand, Lin Ting blocked him, her eyes sharp as they flicked to his bandaged wound.

“What’s this, Xia Zimo? Do you think Lingyun is someone you can summon and dismiss at will?”

Her best friend might be soft-hearted and frustratingly forgiving, but Lin Ting would fight for her dignity.

Xia Zimo glanced at Xinning, then at her flat stomach, his voice low.

“Of course not. I only want what’s best for her.”

Lin Ting’s fists clenched, her knuckles cracking as she fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“What’s best for her? I don’t see it. Don’t think kneeling and shedding a little blood makes you impressive.”

Xia Zimo accepted her rebuke with a bowed head and replied, “I know my actions can’t undo the pain I’ve caused to Lingyun. But I’ll make it up to her, I swear.”

Lin Ting’s fists clenched tighter with every word he spoke, each one stoking her urge to land a punch.

What was it about him that made her so furious?

Duan Ling, seated nearby, glanced at the bloodied knife on the table.

“It’s getting late, Xia Zimo. Time to take your leave.”

A polite dismissal, sharp as a blade.

Xia Zimo understood but lingered, his eyes fixed on Xinning.

“Lingyun, I’ll come see you tomorrow. Rest well and take care of yourself.”

Xinning stayed hidden behind Lin Ting, refusing to meet his gaze.

With reluctant steps, Xia Zimo left, glancing back every few paces.

Duan Ling turned to Xinning and said, “You’re with your child and have been traveling for days. You need rest.”

He summoned her maid and said, “Zhilan, take the Third Miss to her room.”

Zhilan stepped forward to guide Xinning.

Xinning had hoped to share a room with Lin Ting tonight, to pour out her heart, but under Duan Ling’s calm yet imposing gaze, she faltered.

“Leyun, Second Brother, you both rest early too,” she mumbled, her courage wilting.

Lin Ting caught Xinning’s arm as she moved to leave and asked:

“Want me to stay with you tonight?”

They’d shared a room before, after all.

Xinning glanced at Duan Ling, swallowing the “yes” that nearly escaped.

“No, Zhilan will stay with me.”

She followed Zhilan to the back courtyard’s guest room.