Chapter 26: A Eunuch, Yet Still So Arrogant

He had thought the commotion here would be enough to draw everyone’s attention. Hushan could not help but steal a glance at the person inside, but the expectation he held in his heart vanished the moment he looked up.

Shen Quanyi merely cast a casual, indifferent glance at him before turning her gaze away.

Qiuyue felt a pang of pity. Hushan was frail, huddled in the snow, and with the flakes still falling heavily from the sky, he was nearly being buried alive. He stubbornly raised his head and shook the snow from his body, but his thin frame was like a drifting willow catkin; it seemed as though a single gust of wind could blow him away.

After a long while, Shen Quanyi let out a sigh. Qiuyue understood; she immediately picked up the teapot simmering on the small stove, poured a bowl of tea, and personally handed it over. Shen Quanyi took a sip and then softly instructed Qiuyue, "Take an umbrella to him."

In the vast, white expanse of snow, Qiuyue walked over with an umbrella overhead, carrying another in her arms, trotting toward Hushan.

"Here, take this. Our mistress told me to bring it to you."

Qiuyue handed over the umbrella. Hushan extended a hand, stiffened by the cold, to accept it, then kowtowed to express his gratitude. Qiuyue marveled at such a man—even at a time like this, he did not forget his manners. Yet, it was precisely because of those manners that he was being punished. What a strange man.

Watching Hushan merely accept the umbrella without opening it to shield himself, Shen Quanyi turned back and curled up on the daybed by the stove. The warm, radiant heat dispelled the chill from her body. With a long, soft sigh, she reached up and gently pressed her temples.

Qiuyue came in, propped the umbrella against the door, and rubbed her hands together to warm them by the stove. She still frowned, muttering, "That man is truly strange. I gave him an umbrella, yet he doesn't even use it. A eunuch, and yet so arrogant." She whispered to herself; he wasn't even a man anymore, so what was there to be coy about?

As she spoke, her words caused Lady Liu to start. Intentionally avoiding the topic of the Zhang woman, she hurriedly stood up to clear the spent ash from the stove, added fresh coal, and personally carried the basin of embers out.

"Go and have the meal served," Shen Quanyi said. Qiuyue nodded and hurried to comply. Sensing that Shen Quanyi’s expression was not as it usually was, she dared not delay, quickly donning her cloak before heading out.

"Well? Do you need me to invite you personally?" Shen Quanyi raised her voice deliberately.

The thin, long shadow in the snow finally moved, limping with great difficulty toward the front of the room.

"Greetings, Mistress."

With that, Hushan knelt down once more, looking so fragile he seemed on the verge of fainting. He had been in the snow for too long; half his clothes were already soaked through. His hair, once neatly combed, had come loose, sticking damply to his forehead. Even his voice sounded stuffy through his nose. At this rate, he was bound to fall deathly ill.

"I never imagined I would see Steward Hu in such a wretched state."

The two were quite close, and Shen Quanyi could smell a cloying, sweet scent on him. She frowned instinctively.

"Mistress is amused at my expense," Hushan said, shrinking his neck; he was cold.

Shen Quanyi pushed the braziers together and threw a few pieces of charcoal from the bucket into the fire. They soon burst with a crackling sound, sending out a wave of intense heat.

Shen Quanyi looked up at Hushan. His pale face gradually regained a hint of warmth in the heat, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He bowed his back, eyes lowered, but suddenly a slender, fair hand reached into his field of vision.

In her hand was a pure white handkerchief.

Hushan was pleasantly surprised. He took the cloth, casually wrapped his injured right hand, and regained a bit of spirit, looking at Shen Quanyi with bright, sparkling eyes.

"Why?" Shen Quanyi’s voice remained calm, as if nothing could stir even a ripple in her. "You are a head steward with a face in this courtyard; surely your life is without worry. As for being punished, haven't you been just as ruthless when dealing with others?"

Her voice was flat, yet it carried an immense sense of oppression.

Hushan looked up, his eyelashes trembling violently. He suddenly offered a faint smile and reached out to unbutton his clothes. Shen Quanyi had not expected this; he was wearing only his outer robe, with nothing underneath. She hurriedly turned her head away, cursing him silently as a menace. She shouldn't have been soft-hearted. "You are insolent!" she scolded. "To behave in such a manner—do you not wish to live?"

Hearing the reprimand, Hushan showed no panic, continuing to strip until he was completely bare.

"I beg for your mercy, Miss," Hushan’s cold voice was tinged with a slight hoarseness.

Hearing such shameless words, Shen Quanyi was filled with anger. She cursed Hushan for being frivolous and rude, wishing she could cast him out immediately. She was about to turn and lash out at him, but when her eyes fell upon his naked upper body, the words died in her throat.

A hideous, jagged red scar ran from his shoulder down to his abdomen. Furthermore, there was a faint, curved mark on his chest—it looked as though it had just scabbed over, and one could clearly tell it was a bite mark. Besides these, there were several round, black wounds where the rotting flesh was visible, surrounded by countless smaller scratches and lacerations.

Even with all the mental preparation she had, Shen Quanyi’s scalp went numb. Seeing those crisscrossing, old and new wounds on such fair skin—it was truly too much.

"Now you know, Miss. This 'son' of the house may look glorious on the outside, but inside, I am already like rotting silk."

"Sometimes, living is worse than being a beast."

Hushan closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and bowed his head to kneel, his voice trembling: "This servant has no other intentions; I only beg you to save my life. You have seen these wounds..."

"They are not fatal," Shen Quanyi interrupted. She closed her eyes. She knew her own capabilities well; she was like a clay bodhisattva crossing a river, barely able to save herself. She had no power to make promises about another's life.

Hushan bit his lip, saying nothing, but stared steadily at Shen Quanyi.

"You are a smart man. You want me to give you a hand. But have you considered what would happen if I were unwilling, or if I told Steward Zhang about your intentions?"

Shen Quanyi’s words were blunt. Having endured so much torture, for Hushan to still be alive meant he was by no means simple. The way the Zhang woman treated him today was something he had intentionally let her see. He had set a trap himself.

"I am not the Goddess of Mercy who saves all from suffering." Shen Quanyi curled her lips into a cold, mocking smile. She grabbed the teacup from the table and inverted it, spilling the water into the charcoal brazier.

With a hiss, the water vanished without a trace.

Hushan blinked and suddenly smiled. "Hushan would not dare. I simply possess a few skills and wish to relieve your burdens, Miss."

Shen Quanyi composed her expression, looked at Hushan in silence for a moment, and then said faintly, "Very well, go back. You should be ill for a few days; it will be a good time to rest."

Hushan finally set his heart at ease. He struggled to stand, but after only two steps, he stumbled. He hurriedly steadied himself against the doorframe and looked back at Shen Quanyi. "This servant believes that you will soon have a use for me, Miss. I shall wait for your call."