Bai Lan followed Ning Muyan, stunned. The people of Xi Jin Garden were amazed Ning Muyan had personally come to defend a lowly doctor. He, of course, was even more astonished.
In the past, when he meekly endured scoldings and ridicule, he had only wished someone would speak for him. But in the vast Ning Estate, everyone looked out for themselves; no one would intercede.
Now, hardened by years of life, he could face situations with composure. And yet someone had stepped forward to protect him—someone he never imagined would. The twists of fate left him deeply moved.
“Ah!”
Suddenly, Bai Lan tripped over Ning Muyan’s feet and fell onto his back, letting out a cry and rubbing his forehead.
Ning Muyan looked down and gently removed Bai Lan’s hand from his forehead, checking for injury. None was found—only a bit of redness from Bai Lan rubbing it himself.
Bai Lan lifted his head weakly. “What is it?”
Ning Muyan lowered his hand, seeing Bai Lan’s distracted state. He had originally planned to return to the garden to comfort him, but seeing him like this, he said softly: “You suffered injustice today.”
“I don’t feel that wronged… rather…” Bai Lan hesitated, then asked, “Why did you come?”
“San Leng came to Bao’an Hall and told me you had been taken by the people from Xi Jin Garden,” Ning Muyan replied.
Bai Lan pressed his lips together. “At least San Leng worried for me.”
“He’s quite loyal.”
A faint crease appeared between Ning Muyan’s brows. Of course he had worried—“If he weren’t reliable, I wouldn’t let you work in my garden.”
Bai Lan gave a wry smile. He really had a way of flattering himself.
“Do you truly believe those things weren’t taken by me?” Ning Muyan asked.
He sighed softly. “Let’s leave the jade pendant aside… as for the paintings, you don’t even recognize two characters. How could you have taken them?”
Bai Lan turned his face away, vexed. He couldn’t tell if that was praise or ridicule.
“If you like, I can bring two paintings to Tianmendong for you.”
“No need,” Bai Lan said. “I see them every day in the study. By the time I return to the garden, my eyes almost grow calloused from looking.”
Ning Muyan sighed helplessly, then softened his tone further. “Alright, then.”
Seeing the warmth of his smile, like spring unfurling in the wind, Bai Lan felt a slight tightening in his chest. Hastily, he looked away and walked ahead. “Let’s go back.”
The two returned to Di Mu Garden, one in front of the other. Ning Muyan didn’t go back to his own residence but followed Bai Lan to Tianmendong, claiming he wanted a cup of tea.
Bai Lan didn’t refuse; after all, the entire Di Mu Garden was someone else’s domain, and he was merely a guest.
San Leng paced anxiously in the courtyard. Seeing Bai Lan return safely, he let out a sigh of relief. “Master, are you alright?”
Bai Lan shook his head.
San Leng was about to ask more, but seeing Ning Muyan had also come, he didn’t speak and hurried to pour tea instead.
Ning Muyan entered the room and sat at the table. He reached out, and Qing Mo handed over everything Bai Lan had brought back.
“Return to their rightful owners.”
Bai Lan looked at the jade pendant in Ning Muyan’s palm. It felt unlucky—always had, and now even more so. He no longer desired it.
“Take it,” Ning Muyan said. “I’ll clean up the garden’s rules. From now on, if the people of Xi Jin Garden call for you without my permission, they will not summon you again. Nothing like today will happen.”
Bai Lan paused, feeling reassured, and took the jade pendant. “The paintings aren’t mine.”
Ning Muyan said nothing further and handed the paintings to Qing Mo. “Return these to the study.”
“Yes, Master.”
Qing Mo left, leaving just the two of them. Ning Muyan looked at the jade pendant in Bai Lan’s hand, a faint, barely noticeable smile on his lips. “Didn’t you say you didn’t bring the pendant from home?”
Bai Lan cleared his throat. “I thought I hadn’t, but when I came, it had been packed into my bundle.”
San Leng brought the tea. Ning Muyan said nothing more and took a sip, a trace of amusement at the corner of his eyes.
Bai Lan watched him and said, “I’m a bit tired. I want to rest.”
Ning Muyan glanced outside; the sun was harsh at its peak. “Good. Today was your day off, and you spent most of the morning outside. Rest well.”
“Mm.”
As Ning Muyan reached the door, he suddenly turned back. “Bai Lan, don’t let today’s events trouble you.”
Bai Lan said nothing, just watched Ning Muyan leave Tianmendong. He exhaled and returned to his room.
Since entering the Ning Estate, he had known life wouldn’t be smooth. But having someone defend him felt… profoundly different.
He lay down, holding the white jade pendant with its red tassel. Its cool, smooth surface made him sigh lightly. His thoughts drifted.
The light in the dungeon was dim. After entering the main gate, one had to descend a long stairway. In summer, it was tolerable, but in autumn and winter, the lack of sunlight left the stone steps damp and cold.
Bai Lan carried a food box carefully down the stairs, then had to pass through several cell corridors.
Torches flickered along the stone walls, but barely lit the place. From time to time, a fat, round rat scurried across the stone floor, startling visiting family members who would shriek.
The jailer saw Bai Lan’s calm demeanor and said, “You’ve got quite the courage.”
Bai Lan wasn’t afraid of rats—he’d seen plenty in the countryside during famine, when people would catch them to eat.
But he was wary of the corridors. The iron-barred cells, dimly lit, radiated a chill. Empty or not, prisoners sometimes lurked near the doors, reaching out suddenly.
Many were unkempt and filthy, their minds frayed from confinement. They would leap at passersby like wild beasts, biting whoever they could grab.
The jailer would beat them with a club until they were unconscious.
Thus, Bai Lan always passed through carefully, heart in his throat, until he reached the dark inner cell where Ning Muyan rested with his eyes closed.
Hearing the noise, Ning Muyan opened his eyes, and upon seeing Bai Lan, rose to the edge of his cell.
After three to five months in the dungeon, Ning Muyan’s legs and knees had stiffened from the cold. Even a short walk was arduous.
Bai Lan knelt, taking out food from the box and also the warming balm he had prepared. Visiting time was limited, so Bai Lan efficiently rolled up Ning Muyan’s pants and applied the medicine while he ate.
“The court has issued a decree.”
“A decree?” Bai Lan’s hands froze. “What did His Majesty say?”
Ning Muyan shook his head slightly. “Exile.”
Bai Lan’s eyes lit up. “Exile… that means you can leave!”
Ning Muyan said nothing, mechanically continuing to eat his meal.
“Master, in any case, it’s fortunate it’s not execution! As long as you live, there’s still hope.”
Ning Muyan lowered his gaze, staring at the balm on his knees. Even after just a short while, the cold stiffness in his legs and feet had begun to warm, the sensation slowly spreading through his sinews and body.
He looked up at Bai Lan. “I’m being exiled to Lingnan. Do you know where that is?”
“I… I’ve only heard it’s very far.”
“This place is thousands of miles from the capital. To be sent there, one would spend a year or more traveling, and the exiled are not accompanied by carriage or horses—only the cruelty of the guards. Even if you were fortunate enough to reach Lingnan, the land is remote and barren, mountains and rivers harsh, diseases frequent… how many would survive there?”
Bai Lan pressed his lips together. “But Master, you endured the hell of the dungeon; why fear the hardship of exile?”
Ning Muyan suddenly reached out and touched Bai Lan’s hair. “I’ve been cast into this world, so what is there left to fear? Only…”
“You are my concubine. Should calamity strike the household, you need not follow me into exile. You may leave on your own.”
Ning Muyan’s voice lowered. “Return to my study. Three steps left from the desk, the floor tiles can be pried up. Dig down three feet, and you’ll find a box. Inside are some of my savings—enough to ensure you will never lack food or clothing for the rest of your life.”
“Take these things, leave the capital, and never return. Go to another city, somewhere peaceful, find someone who can care for you, set up a home, and live a quiet life.”
Bai Lan’s eyes reddened. Even without touching his skin, he could feel the cold that radiated from Ning Muyan’s hand.
“There are hardly any people left in the house. If I—”
Ning Muyan withdrew his hand, his gaze cold. “Go.”
Bai Lan was about to speak, but a jailer stepped forward, chin raised. “Time’s up. Go, go now.”
He lifted the food box, casting a long, steady gaze at the man standing in the dim cell.
Back at the estate, Bai Lan followed Ning Muyan’s instructions and found the box in the study. It was small—just three inches long, two inches wide. He brushed away the sand and opened it. There wasn’t much inside, but it was solid wealth:
Several private property deeds from the city, two heavy gold bars, and a white jade pendant with a tassel.
Bai Lan gripped the pendant tightly, his chest tight, and drew in a sharp breath.
“Master, are you tired?”
Seeing San Leng enter, Bai Lan placed the jade pendant under the pillow and sat up. “No, I just wanted to lie down for a bit.”
San Leng put the snacks he had brought from the kitchen on the table. “Master must be tired. But what exactly happened today?”
Today’s ordeal had been thanks to San Leng; otherwise, Bai Lan might have been wrongfully accused. He recounted the events simply. “Tell me,” he said. “I’m surprised myself. Normally, Qiao Rou is so gentle in the garden. When did I offend her that she would do this?”
Hearing the story, San Leng broke into a cold sweat. Fortunately, the young master had intervened; otherwise, Bai Lan would have suffered injustice.
“Qiao Rou was originally assigned by the lady to serve the young master. At the other end of the house, she is a senior maid. In Di Mu Garden, the young master showed consideration for the lady, so Qiao Rou continued her duties as a senior maid here.”
Bai Lan knew that in a large estate, those not personally employed by him were generally not trusted. San Leng was explaining that Qiao Rou wasn’t particularly close to the young master in Di Mu Garden.
“But she is a high-ranking maid. Why would she do such despicable things?”
San Leng spoke quietly. “She was sent to serve the young master, but also to act as a personal maid, to attend to him closely, and possibly become a concubine later.”
“But everyone knows the young master isn’t interested in frivolous affairs. Over the years, he never allowed anyone to serve him that way. Yet many still dreamed. After all, our young master isn’t just wealthy; he’s as perfect as a celestial being.”
Bai Lan cleared his throat. “So Qiao Rou was never actually called to serve the young master personally?”
San Leng nodded. “Perhaps seeing that the young master favored you, entering the study daily, she harbored resentment.”
Bai Lan understood. “No wonder. Taking my jade pendant wasn’t enough—she added other items to frame me for theft, hoping that in front of the true master, I would be punished as an enemy.”
Had she only taken the jade pendant, the master might have thought Bai Lan had a closer relationship with Ning Muyan, and things could have backfired. So she added more items, framing him for greed, which made sense given his humble background.
But no one expected Ning Muyan to intervene.
San Leng said, “Master, don’t take it to heart. Since the young master acted, she will never enter the garden to serve again.”
Not only would she never return to the garden, but the next day, Bai Lan overheard the servants discussing how Qiao Rou had been sent to work at an estate outside the city, forbidden from returning.