Chapter Three: The Malicious Servant Arrives

Perhaps overhearing the conversation between Xiao Zhu and Xiao Mei, Zhen Qian, suppressing his pain, shifted his body and turned his head. He was not unfamiliar with the two women before him; not only did he feel gratitude toward them, but over the past few days, he had gradually developed a certain fondness. Maybe, after having seen too many heavily made-up beauties under the bright lights of his former life, it was this kind of gentle elegance that could truly bring him peace. Whether or not it was because of his past, it no longer mattered. Zhen Qian longed to say “thank you” to the other woman, but the words caught in his throat—he was not yet ready to face them.

“My lord, did our conversation bring back some memories for you?”

Seeing him silent, Xiao Mei shook her head with a wry smile. Sometimes they could hear him shouting and screaming, but when she and Xiao Zhu appeared before him, he would look at them with eyes that were both familiar and foreign. This strange thought flashed through her mind, soon replaced by a deep unease.

“My lord, do you not understand what we’re saying?”

“The physician said we should talk to you more about the past. It might help awaken your former memories.”

Zhen Qian was secretly delighted—this was exactly the information he needed. Pretending to be ignorant could not last forever. The lack of information made him wary of his unfamiliar surroundings, and he dared not act rashly. Though he could use madness as a cover, he couldn’t let himself be treated as a lunatic forever.

“Is this really useful?”

“How will we know if we don’t try?”

Xiao Zhu leaned in close to Zhen Qian’s ear, her face tinged with a faint blush, and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear, “My lord, you once said you especially liked it when I licked your earlobe—the tingling sensation excited you. Do you remember?”

Good grief! She could say such things out loud? Zhen Qian’s body trembled slightly. Xiao Mei’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Xiao Zhu, what did you just say? My lord reacted!”

If he hadn’t reacted, he wouldn’t be a man. Xiao Zhu’s sweet breath had just brushed against his ear. “Little minx, do you understand what a conditioned reflex is?”

“Wonderful—my lord is responding!”

Xiao Mei, overjoyed, ignored Zhen Qian’s pain and threw herself into his arms, weeping with relief.

Zhen Qian sighed inwardly. Sooner or later, these two little vixens would be the death of him. What kind of care for the sick was this? He didn’t even have a quiet place to recover. Truly, he must have been cursed for eight lifetimes.

Though he was greatly unwilling, for now, he had no choice but to keep up the act until he was certain of his situation. This was a hardship he would have to endure.

Days passed, and the two young women constantly chattered by Zhen Qian’s bedside, recounting stories from the past—his birth, the three of them playing together, reading late at night, his hobbies, household matters, and even tales of sleepless nights they had shared. Eventually, Zhen Qian could recall everything with his eyes closed, and even in his dreams, he would mutter fragments that sometimes startled the two women awake. Hearing his sleep-talking, they would embrace with delighted laughter, leaving Zhen Qian entirely bereft of peaceful slumber.

In just a month, under the girls’ meticulous care, Zhen Qian finally lost patience with his pretense. He got out of bed and walked freely once more.

“Tell me more about the mistress. Some things are still a bit unclear in my memory.”

A few days earlier, Zhen Qian had suddenly recovered part of his memory, though some things remained elusive. Fortunately, with the two women tirelessly explaining everything, he seemed to recall much of it, much to their astonishment and joy—they were ready to announce it to the entire Zhen household.

“My lord is worried that the mistress will make things difficult, isn’t he? Lady Xing may be your stepmother, but you possess the bloodline of the Wang family of Langya, which is far superior to the Xing family of Zhaozhou. If it weren’t for your injury and memory loss, Lady Xing would never have dared to trouble you in the Zhen household. Now that you’ve recovered some memory, she certainly won’t dare to act out.”

Zhen Qian was surprised to learn that his birth mother was a direct branch of the Wang family of Langya. That explained why Lady Xing did not dare to go too far, even after his mother’s death. Had he not lost his memory, she probably wouldn’t have been so brazen now.

He felt a bit speechless. In this feudal society, the difference between legitimate and concubine-born children at least offered him some protection. Still, his situation was precarious. From what the two girls had told him, his one encounter with Lady Xing while bedridden had left a very unfriendly impression.

“Xiao Mei, Xiao Zhu, you wretched maids, come downstairs—Mistress has questions for you!”

A shrill, piercing male voice called from below. Zhen Qian didn’t need to look to know it was Steward Xing. During his days pretending to be amnesiac, the steward had often summoned the two women to Lady Xing. Ostensibly, it was to inquire about Zhen Qian’s health, but in truth, it was to hurry him out of the house. The two girls always refused, citing Zhen Qian’s inability to travel.

The steward shouted from below, not out of fear of the women, but lest Zhen Qian injure him by accident. Only recently, Zhen Qian had deliberately pushed a flowerpot off the balcony while feigning madness, nearly striking the steward. Had he been killed or even just scratched, the steward would have had no recourse.

“My lord, Steward Xing is here again. What should we do this time?”

The two women were a bit afraid to see Lady Xing. Though they hadn’t feared her before, that was in the past. Now, Lady Xing’s authority had grown, and they were at a loss.

“Look at you two, so easily frightened. Where’s your usual spirit? Tell Steward Xing to come upstairs. Tell Uncle Wang at the gate—if the steward won’t come up, have him brought up!”

Xiao Mei looked at Zhen Qian with doubt. Even before his memory loss, he had always been courteous. Now, his behavior seemed changed, leaving her uncertain. Perhaps the amnesia had scrambled his mind?

No matter how well one imitates, he can never be exactly the same. The current Zhen Qian was still a counterfeit, and it was impressive enough that he could resemble the original even sixty or seventy percent. To the two women who saw him every day, this was obvious.

Perhaps it was pent-up resentment, but Xiao Zhu found Zhen Qian’s new demeanor quite satisfying. Seeing he was serious, she naturally wished to see the steward embarrassed.

Not wishing to draw attention to himself, Zhen Qian remained out of sight, propping his head out the window. He watched as Xiao Zhu, hands on her hips, called down with authority, “My lord wants you upstairs. He has questions for you!”

“My lord wants to see me?” Steward Xing’s eyes darted nervously. Spotting Zhen Qian peering from above, he shuddered, fearing another flowerpot might fall and shrank back. “Is the young master’s madness cured?”

With Zhen Qian backing her, Xiao Zhu shed her usual timidity and glared at the steward. “What nonsense! My lord called you up—are you refusing to listen?”

Steward Xing forced a smile more bitter than tears. “Hehe, since the young master’s health is improving, it’s a great event for the Zhen household. I’ll go inform the mistress at once!” He turned to leave; a wise man avoids immediate danger. In a feudal household, the hierarchy was strict—no servant could afford to cross even a forgetful young master. The wily steward knew this well.

“Stop!” Xiao Zhu barked. “Since you’re here, see my lord before you go!”

The steward was no fool. He’d done plenty of questionable things and knew nothing good awaited him upstairs. “No need. Since the young master is well again, the mistress is eager for the news. I’ll bring gifts next time to pay my respects.”

Hearing him stress “the mistress,” Xiao Zhu knew he was trying to invoke Lady Xing’s authority. But with Zhen Qian’s health improved, they no longer needed to cower. She was about to call him back when she saw him trying to slip away. She rushed to block him. “You can’t leave!”

Seeing Xiao Zhu suddenly so assertive, the steward cursed his luck. Any fool could see she was out for revenge. If he didn’t escape now, when would he?

He ducked down and spun away, dodging Xiao Zhu’s grasp, and made for the courtyard gate.

Just then, a figure blocked the gate. Distracted, the steward ran straight into him. “Ouch!” Not expecting anyone at the gate, he lost his footing and fell hard onto his backside.

“You... Who are you?”

Dazed but nimble, the steward managed to get up, rubbing his sore rump. Looking up, his face changed instantly.

“It’s you, Steward Xing. Why so eager to leave? The young master invited you upstairs. Or do you think he can’t summon you himself?”

The steward’s heart sank. He recognized the man at the gate—Wang Peng, the gatekeeper of Zhen Qian’s courtyard. Had it been anyone else, the steward wouldn’t have been afraid. But Wang Peng, a skilled martial artist, had served Zhen Qian’s mother since she married into the family. Now, he was utterly devoted to her son. Crossing him was akin to courting death.

“Hehe! Old Wang, is it? I just have something urgent, so I’ll take my leave.”

But Wang Peng would not let him escape. He’d long harbored resentment toward the steward and now had his chance. Without another word, he strode over, seized the steward by the collar as if he were a chick, and said, “You can leave after greeting the young master upstairs.”