Nonsense! She’s Not a Bad Woman! - Chapter 64

That was why Young Master had Changqing bring the young lady she trusted most from the Minister’s Mansion—and deliberately leave her in the Four-Leaf Green, enticing her to return on her own.

Changqing had said that it was no easy task to find a moment when the young lady of the Minister’s Mansion was alone. Only then could he bring her back.

Young Master didn’t care about the lady of the mansion at all. If he did, it was only for the sake of his medical books. Otherwise, why would he leave her trapped in the Plum Garden, unconcerned?

Chang’an silently sighed. A man like Young Master never truly cared for anyone. One day, he’d probably end up married to nothing but his medical tomes.

Yun Heng turned to take a book from the upper shelf of the cabinet, but suddenly, a thought flashed across his mind. He froze mid-motion and let his hand fall back.

“Forget it.”

He stepped out and walked toward the Plum Garden. The plum trees were scattered in elegant disorder throughout the yard, each blossom proud and red like a dot of color in the snow. Their delicate fragrance filled the air, refreshing the mind and soul.

Under one of the distant plum trees, he saw a tiny figure crouched on the ground.

The girl wore a snow-white fox fur cloak, blending with the snowy ground as if part of it. Facing the tree, her back to him, her face was hidden from view.

Yun Heng approached without expression, his footsteps crunching softly in the snow. The girl did not turn to look at him.

“I’ll take you out,” he said, his tone as detached as his unworldly appearance.

Qiao Wanyan looked up at him from the ground.

In an instant, Yun Heng’s mind seemed to hum. In the depths of his eyes, all he saw was that ethereal, flawless face.

He was looking at Qiao Wanyan, and she was studying this strange young man before her.

He looked like a gentleman, perhaps even trustworthy—but she was never one to judge by appearances.

Just like herself, she could put on a facade of fragility and innocence, but deep down, she was far from a saint.

Yun Heng reached out to lift her, but the girl swiftly drew the jade hairpin from her hair, aiming it at him. Her palm-sized face was full of caution and fear.

He glanced down at the hairpin. With that reaction, that “weapon,” it was clear it could not harm him in the slightest.

Even when on guard, she remained delicate and frail.

That was Yun Heng’s first impression of her: beautiful, pitiable, like a flower in full bloom—but one that could snap with the slightest touch.

“I’ll take you out,” he repeated, still in that cold, indifferent tone.

Qiao Wanyan’s hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but from cold. She had been crouched in the snow too long; her entire body was chilled, her feet numb.

“Who are you? Are you the master here? Why did you bring me here?”

Three questions in a row. Yun Heng said nothing, seeming to consider them troublesome.

He was a healer, but not a man easily approached.

“I’ll take you out,” he continued, as if repeating it was all that was necessary, and then he could return to his medical books.

Qiao Wanyan stayed silent for a moment. This foolish dog couldn’t say anything else? Always the same line. A stranger might think he was awkward or incapable of social interaction.

Her heart stirred. She remembered: the story described Yun Yao’s brother as rigid and unsociable. A healer, yet he saved people based solely on his mood and whim—a true eccentric.

Could this person be…

Yun Heng?

But if it really was him, why would he have brought her here?

Qiao Wanyan’s expression darkened. When she lifted her eyelids again, her gaze sparkled like stars, shrouded in a haze of flirtatious allure. Her face, as pale as a painting, seemed like a goddess who had never existed in the mortal world.

Fragile, broken, yet unbearably beautiful.

Yun Heng’s obsidian-like eyes trembled slightly as he saw the hot tears fall from her eyelashes. His hand instinctively reached out to wipe them away, stopping just half an inch from her skin, restrained and careful.

“Don’t cry.”

“Who are you?” Qiao Wanyan’s voice trembled.

She had learned from life, and from Qiao Yihuan in particular, that men—except for a rare few, like He Yanli—couldn’t help but feel pity when they saw a woman cry.

Tears could resolve many unnecessary troubles… as well as the necessary ones.

“I’m Yun Heng. This is the Apothecary Valley.”

As expected, Qiao Wanyan had anticipated this, yet she still could not understand why he had brought her here by force. In the original story, she hadn’t bound Qiao Yihuan and brought her to the valley.

She was already preparing to head to Apothecary Valley—so why go to the trouble of binding her? Did he not know she would come on her own?

Yun Heng’s tone was calm. “I’ll take you out first. You look unwell; the cold has affected you.”

He turned and walked ahead, but when he didn’t hear her footsteps behind, he paused and glanced back.

“My feet are numb. I can’t walk,” she murmured, lowering her gaze.

Yun Heng thought for a moment, then simply returned and lifted her into his arms, striding toward the exit.

Chang’an, standing outside, nearly popped his eyes out. His gaze darted between the two of them, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.

Wasn’t Young Master so obsessed with cleanliness that he would go insane? Not only would he never hold anyone like this—he would throw a garment into the coals if someone accidentally touched it. Eight hundred hand washes a day, everything in the Apothecary Valley had to be spotless before handling anything of his.

Chang’an’s mind swirled with amazement—and a little envy. Last night, someone had touched Young Master’s teacup by accident, and he had been punished by skipping dinner.

Yet now… Yun Heng carrying that girl looked unbelievably beautiful.

Though he felt she was far too divine for him, Chang’an admitted silently that the two looked somewhat… well-matched.

Could any mortal possibly match a goddess? Absolutely not.

Yun Heng returned Qiao Wanyan to the very room she had stayed in earlier, carefully setting her on the bed. Then, without a word, he strode away.

No explanation. No hesitation. His steps were almost swift enough to seem like he vanished.

Qiao Wanyan: “…”

Indeed… he was a strange man.

Chang’an watched Young Master’s retreating figure and sighed quietly. Even a goddess-like girl could not overcome his severe obsession with cleanliness.

No guesswork was needed—he was certainly going to wash his hands, maybe even take a bath and change clothes after this.