Chapter 53: Absolutely Furious

"Speak." Yuan Zaichun glanced impatiently at Liu Fu, his eyes filled with cold indifference.

Last night, Qiao Qingyun’s resistance had left him simmering with anger ever since he returned, though he couldn’t quite explain why. It felt as though someone had struck him hard on the head—a defeat he’d never experienced before, as if he’d done something wrong but couldn’t pinpoint what.

"If you want me to speak, Your Highness, you must first promise not to take my head," Liu Fu pleaded, genuinely fearful. If this was a matter between his masters, and he said too much, it might cost him dearly.

"Speak. I guarantee your safety," Yuan Zaichun replied, unable to think of anything else—he only wanted to know, where exactly had he treated Qiao Qingyun poorly?

How could she, time and again, reject his intentions?

He recalled that night when Qiao Qingyun had willingly offered herself to him. Yuan Zaichun resented himself for having been so restrained. Had he not held back, by now, they would at least have been a settled couple.

"Well..." Liu Fu nodded and bowed. "Your Highness, you and Her Ladyship are merely mutually respectful. Besides... was it not your own wish to maintain distance between you and Her Ladyship?"

These words stifled whatever Yuan Zaichun had been about to say. He swallowed his protest.

"So she disregards me entirely? She doesn't come home all day?"

At this, Liu Fu rubbed his forehead in helplessness. "Your Highness, you yourself insisted not to meddle too much in Miss Qiao’s private affairs. So whatever she wishes to do, she’s free to do!"

"You!" Yuan Zaichun nearly choked with fury—how had he ended up with such a servant, who never thought of his interests?

But on second thought, this had been their way of interacting since the wedding. Yet, in just half a month, Yuan Zaichun had already noticed Qiao Qingyun was different from others.

If it were someone else, they would be scheming for advancement, plotting and manipulating, perhaps even resorting to extreme measures to secure their position.

But Qiao Qingyun didn’t. She seemed to let things happen as they would.

Outside, Qiao Qingyun was still sipping tea, quietly waiting for their return with the supplies.

The upstairs private rooms had already been transformed: one into a ward, the largest into an operating theatre.

Everything was ready, only waiting for the final push.

"Madam, how are these used?" Qingluo asked.

Qiao Qingyun smiled faintly. "You’ll know in time."

It was best not to let Qingluo know too much yet. When there was a real patient and a demonstration, understanding would come.

"Miss! All the items have been bought!" Feng Ke and the others came back, arms laden with bundles.

Amusingly, several newly hired servants trailed behind them. Feng Ke himself was a sight—arms, head, hands all burdened with supplies.

"Pfft!" Xu Lu couldn’t help but laugh, watching these bedraggled figures.

Indeed, skillful hands always came in handy.

Chuncheng, though silent, showed naked sympathy in her gaze.

"All these beds must be sent upstairs, and those poles—especially the ones with a bend—must be placed beside each bed," Qiao Qingyun instructed. "One by each bedside."

"Understood."

At her instructions, everyone hurried upstairs. Meanwhile, Qiao Qingyun collected the bags made of sheep bladders and the cowhide gloves.

There were also plenty of syringes and other items needed for surgery.

"Miss, I’ve never seen these things used in any other medical hall."

"Don’t worry. You’ll understand when the time comes."

They worked into the evening. Only then did Qiao Qingyun take Qingluo back to the residence, by which time Yuan Zaichun was already asleep.

For some reason, ever since she had come in, everyone looked at Qiao Qingyun with peculiar obedience, which made her uncomfortable.

Qingluo was the first to bristle. "Hey! Keep staring and I’ll gouge your eyes out, believe it or not!"

At her fierce threat, the young servant turned and fled, heedless of decorum.

"Go ask Hong Ying and the others what happened."

"Yes, Miss."

Qiao Qingyun was exhausted. The only thing on her mind was to rest; her body simply couldn’t take any more.

Once inside, she dove into her blankets, wrapped herself tightly, and soon fell asleep.

"Hey, Hong Ying, when we came back, plenty of servants were staring at the Madam. What’s going on?" Zhong Shi asked, uninterested in gossip, focusing instead on his collection of training weapons—used to build strength and hone his strike.

"Oh, Qingluo, didn’t you know? Today His Highness ordered that, if the Princess Consort returned, he must be notified at once," Hong Ying revealed.

"But His Highness waited all day, and there was no news of Her Ladyship. So, in the end, he went to bed in a huff."

Hearing this, Qingluo’s face darkened, muttering, "How is Madam supposed to attend to His Highness when she’s injured like this?"

"Madam was injured?" Zhong Shi blurted, turning to the two girls. Qingluo nodded without hesitation.

"Of course. When I helped Madam dress this morning, her body was bruised in patches—her wrists, both hands, all purple and blue."

"Madam went out today to negotiate a business deal, but Young Master Feng saw her injuries. Madam was embarrassed, unable to explain."

As she spoke, Qingluo’s eyes grew despondent, even reddened.

"I knew it. Last night must have been rough for Madam. She must have been terrified."

After all, Qiao Qingyun was still just a young woman, not truly the Princess Consort yet. Faced with such an ordeal, how could she not be afraid?

Zhong Shi frowned. "What is Madam doing now?"

"Most likely sleeping. After a day’s work, she has no energy left to explain herself."

"No need for explanations," Hong Ying said angrily. "Why should she have to strip to prove anything? They failed in their duties, but expect others to follow gossip. Ridiculous."

Her straightforward nature meant Hong Ying always spoke her mind.

The next morning, Qiao Qingyun set out again with Qingluo. The other two remained to guard the courtyard.