Chapter 22 22

Chapter 22 22
by the time Lu Chen decided he couldn't stay in that bed for another minute. He dressed slowly, his fingers still a bit clumsy with the layers of silk, but he refused to let Xiao Zheng help him this time. He needed to feel like he was back in his own skin, even if the skin belonged to a man everyone in this house expected to see in a coffin.
He stepped out into the main corridor, his boots making a solid, reassuring sound against the floor. He wasn't running, but he wasn't dragging his feet either. He walked with his hands tucked into his wide sleeves, his eyes darting from the pillars to the eaves, taking in every detail of the estate as if seeing it for the first time.
The reaction from the household was immediate. A group of younger servants scrubbing the floor near the entrance stopped mid-motion, their brushes dripping soapy water. Two older women carrying baskets of fresh linen nearly tripped over their own feet when they saw him rounded the corner. They all bowed, their heads dipping so low their chins touched their chests, but the silence that followed was heavy with something that wasn't just respect.
"Why is everyone looking at me like this?" Lu Chen muttered, not slowing his pace. He didn't look at the servants, but he felt their eyes crawling over his back the moment he passed.
A-fu, who had been trailing him like a faithful shadow, stepped up beside him. The old man looked tired, but there was a flicker of something like pride in his eyes. "That’s because they are surprised you survived, Young Master. The rumors from the physician were not kind. Most of the kitchen staff had already started betting on which day the funeral would be held."
Lu Chen let out a short, dry laugh. "Betting on my death? I hope they lost a lot of money."
"Many did," A-fu admitted, his voice low.
Lu Chen stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning to look at the older man. "Am I that wicked, A-fu? Is the idea of me living really that much of a shock to the system?"
A-fu didn't answer immediately. He looked at the floor, then at the wall, then finally back at Lu Chen. "Hmmmm," he hummed, a sound that was neither a yes nor a no, but held the weight of twenty years of dealing with the original Lu Chen's temper.
Lu Chen smirks slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. He wasn't offended. If anything, the blatant honesty of the house’s fear was a relief. "Well, it will boost my system. At least I won’t die anytime soon if the sheer spite of this place is keeping me upright."
He didn't explain what he meant by "system," and A-fu didn't ask. They continued walking until they reached the inner courtyard, a place of manicured gardens and quiet water features that usually felt like the most peaceful part of the mansion.
Lu Qing was there. She was sitting on a stone bench under a willow tree, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She wasn't reading, and she wasn't sewing. She was just staring at the ripples in the small koi pond, her face a mask of quiet, hollow exhaustion. She looked younger than nineteen in the harsh daylight, her skin pale and her eyes shadowed.
Lu Chen paused at the edge of the courtyard. He looked at her, then at the way she seemed to be shrinking into her own clothes. He felt a weird tug in his chest the kind of feeling he used to get back in his world when a character he liked was being written into a corner.
"Hey," he said, stepping into the sunlight.
Lu Qing flinched, her whole body jerking as if he had shouted. She snapped her head toward him, her eyes wide with a flash of panic before she realized who it was. She forced a small, brittle smile onto her face and stood up quickly, smoothing her skirts.
"Brother," she said. Her voice was thin. "I didn't know you were walking about."
Lu Chen walked closer, stopping a few feet away. He didn't loom over her, but he didn't pull back either. "You okay?"
She nodded. The movement was too fast, too rehearsed, like a puppet being pulled by strings. "Yes. I am fine. Just enjoying the air. I am glad to see you looking stronger."
Lu Chen noticed the way her fingers were twisting the fabric of her sleeve. He noticed the way she wouldn't meet his eyes for more than a second. She was terrified, and she was miserable, and she was trying to pretend she was neither. He didn't push her. He knew from his own life as a writer that you couldn't force a character to confess their subplot before they were ready.
"Right. Enjoy the air then," he said, giving her a nod that was meant to be casual but probably came off as blunt.
He turned his head slightly and caught a movement near the covered walkway. Lu Ren was standing there, his arms crossed over his chest, his back pressed against a red lacquer pillar. He had been watching them the whole time. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw set in a hard line. He didn't move to join them, and he didn't offer a greeting. He just stayed there,
Lu Chen looked back at his sister, then at his scowling step-brother, and then at the high walls that surrounded them. He felt the weight of the Lu name pressing down on all of them,
"A-fu," Lu Chen said, his voice loud enough for Lu Ren to hear.
"Yes, Young Master?"
"I'm going to the library. Don't let anyone bother me unless the house is on fire."
He walked away without waiting for an answer, his boots clicking on the stone. He didn't look back at Lu Qing’s trembling hands or Lu Ren’s suspicious stare. He had things to do, plans to memorize, and a story to rewrite.