Cool and slick to the touch, but not bonelessly soft—the kind of hand you’re reluctant to let go of once you hold it.
Serena Feng’s hands were long and slender, pale yet not the delicate sort that never touched real work. Her grip was strong, and her fingers were covered in calluses—these were hands shaped by labor.
"Lance Quinn, let go."
Once she realized who it was, Serena relaxed a little, pulled her hand back, and sat up, locking eyes with Lance Quinn in the darkness.
The sharpness in her eyes was nothing like someone who’d just woken up.
Any woman who wakes up in the middle of the night to find a grown man sitting beside her wouldn’t be happy about it.
Luckily, Serena Feng was bold—if it were anyone else, they’d probably have died of fright.
Lance Quinn was like a ghost, utterly silent.
"What happened to your hand?"
"I cut it myself." Serena didn’t lie, but she had no intention of explaining further. She quietly scooted back, trying to put some distance between them.
Pitch-black room, just a man and a woman alone on the same bed—she was worried something might happen.
Men always think with the lower half of their bodies. She might not want to get married, but she definitely didn’t want to lose her reputation.
Lance Quinn frowned, displeased—not that Serena saw it. When he stayed silent for so long, Serena asked, "Are you hurt?"
Serena sniffed, but didn’t smell any blood.
"No. What, you think I only come to you when I’m injured?" Lance was still hung up on the distance between them and the wound on Serena’s left hand.
But clearly, Serena didn’t want to talk about it. Asking again would be pointless.
"If you’re not hurt, why are you here? Showing up in the middle of the night like this could scare someone to death." She was a doctor—no one came to see a doctor for nothing, especially at this hour.
Ahem...
Lance Quinn awkwardly looked away.
He couldn’t exactly tell Serena Feng the real reason.
He couldn’t sleep that night, and before he knew it, he’d ended up at Feng Manor.
Even he didn’t believe that excuse, let alone Serena Feng.
“I heard you went to the palace today?” Lance Quinn improvised, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.
“Yes.” Serena nodded warily, on guard.
She sensed Lance Quinn wasn’t ordinary. Before he could ask, she added, “Don’t ask me what happened in there or what I ran into. I won’t say, I can’t say, and I won’t lie to you either.”
Lance was left speechless by Serena’s bluntness. His face darkened. “So you just assume I came to interrogate you about the palace?”
Too bad it was pitch black and he wore a mask—Serena couldn’t see his expression at all.
“If not, then why are you here?”
...
Lance rolled his eyes.
What, he couldn’t just drop by for no reason?
Since he was here, he might as well do something—otherwise, what a wasted trip.
“Give me your hands.” Lance couldn’t be bothered to argue and pointed at Serena’s hands tucked under the covers.
“What are you going to do?”
He wasn’t going to break her hands, was he?
“Relax. I’m not here to ruin your hands.” Lance’s face grew darker.
This woman really didn’t know how to appreciate kindness.
He reached out, ignoring whether Serena agreed or not, and grabbed her hands.
“Ah...” Serena tumbled forward—if Lance hadn’t caught her, she’d have fallen off the bed.
“Quiet. You want to wake the whole house? Is your reputation not bad enough already?”
As he spoke, he gently began massaging Serena’s hands.
Serena was about to say something, but a warm, tingling sensation spread from her fingertips.
“You...” Serena looked up, surprised at Lance.
This man had come all the way here at night just to massage her hands?
She didn’t buy it...
“What do you mean, ‘you’? Give me your other hand.”
Under the silver mask, his star-like eyes smiled, but Serena was too tense to notice.
...
Lance’s arrival was sudden, his departure even more inexplicable.
All night, aside from massaging Serena’s hands, he barely said a word.
In that kind of atmosphere, of course Serena didn’t dare speak either.
She was terrified new rumors would spread about her sneaking around with a man again.
Serena kept feeling there was something weird between them, but couldn’t put her finger on it. Plus, with her hands held like this—well, honestly, Lance’s massage skills were incredible, and her hands were so sore she couldn’t bear to pull away.
It wasn’t until dawn, when Lance finally let go and said he was leaving, that Serena realized what was off.
They’d spent the night together—on the same bed!
Forget ancient times—even in the modern world, a man with no blood relation sitting on a woman’s bed all night was scandalous. In this era, it was downright shocking.
Thud...
Lance had just walked out when Serena grabbed her quilt and rolled onto the bed.
Lance Quinn, you’ve gone too far.
Even if my reputation is already in tatters, you can’t just do this! If word gets out, how am I supposed to face anyone?
Thud, thud, thud...
Serena pounded the mattress as if it were Lance Quinn himself.
Aaaahhh...
What did she ever do to deserve this? One after another, people just wouldn’t let her be, and none of them saw her as a woman whose reputation could still be ruined.
Wuuu...
Serena was still sulking when Evan Zhou came knocking at her door.
“Who is it?” She wasn’t grumpy from sleep today, but her temper was still fierce.
Evan was used to it by now. He sometimes muttered to himself, who could ever put up with Serena? Maybe he’d be stuck with her for life.
“Sis, someone’s here to see you.”
“Coming.” Annoyed or not, life had to go on.
Serena rolled out of bed, grabbed a set of clothes, and threw on a hair tie to pull her hair back. Once she was presentable, she finally opened the door.
“Who comes calling at the crack of dawn? Don’t they know people need to sleep?” Serena was still thoroughly annoyed.
Ever since the Peach Blossom Festival, trouble just wouldn’t leave her alone.
“Someone from the Hsieh Clan.” Evan handed her an invitation. “Madam Hsieh is hosting a poetry gathering and wants you to attend.”
“Hsieh Clan? Not going.” Serena didn’t even look at it. “By the way, who did they send?”
She was curious—who from the Hsieh Clan would still bother coming to Feng Manor?
“Third Young Master Hsieh.”
Only he would dare show up.” Serena nodded.
Evan noticed Serena’s sour mood and worried she’d do something impulsive. “Sis, the Hsieh Clan has a Noble Consort in the palace.”
Meaning: you can’t afford to offend them.
Serena sighed. Evan was right, but she still refused to step foot in the Hsieh household.
“Tell Third Young Master Hsieh I fell into the water yesterday and I’m sick—I can’t go.”
With that, she brushed past Evan and walked out.
With their resources, the Hsiehs would definitely know what happened yesterday.
“Is that really okay?”
Too bad Serena really didn’t care for the Hsiehs. She went straight to freshen up and eat breakfast.
Breakfast was red date porridge and a bowl of pig’s blood soup.
Serena was speechless. This was a bit much.
Still, for the next few days, she’d drink it obediently.
Blood tonic, blood tonic.
...