The kitchen quickly delivered the pastries.
They were shaped like flowers, small and delicate, with a faint sweet fragrance.
Xie Yi picked one up and toyed with it between his fingers.
But the person who usually became excited at the sight of food today said nothing.
A small figure curled up in his consciousness space, looking very pitiful.
Lin Zhiji truly felt that he was quite pitiful.
The freshly made pastries were still slightly warm, soft and delicate, their sweet aroma constantly drifting into his nose.
Even a saint would find it hard to resist.
If it were usual, he would already be shamelessly asking for a bite.
But today was different.
Though slow to realize things, he could still sense that Xie Yi was in a bad mood today.
Of course, that was understandable.
A scum of a father who was irresponsible, a sharp and ruthless stepmother, a mother who died early, struggling since childhood just to survive, and being burdened with the reputation of an ominous omen, constantly bullied.
Even if revenge came later, the harm could not be erased. Feeling low was normal.
Hadn’t he seen it—Xie Yi, who never ate sweets, had even asked for a plate of pastries.
Bad mood, so eating something sweet made sense. No problem at all!
If it were someone else, Lin Zhiji would have tried to comfort them, cracking jokes or dragging them out of the swamp of emo.
But someone like Xie Yi, so strong and self-centered, probably would not want anyone to see his vulnerable side.
At times like this, he likely did not want to talk to anyone at all and just wanted to be alone.
Unfortunately, because of him, he did not have that option.
So Lin Zhiji could only quietly stay silent, shrinking his presence as much as possible, not even daring to let his gaze wander.
Xie Yi pinched the pastry, from warm until it went cold.
The room was utterly silent.
Until Xie Yi suddenly let out a laugh.
He slowly crushed the pastry in his hand and thought coldly:
Someone who was clearly so afraid of him—how could they dare say they wanted to save him?
—
The Qingping Courtyard was located on the western side of the general’s residence. Though somewhat remote, it was still better than Xie Yi’s previous small courtyard.
More importantly, Xie Pingyue had personally acknowledged his identity. He was no longer the awkward “Young Master Yi,” but instead ranked as the third son according to generational order among peers.
This could be considered a leap to the heavens.
The news quickly spread throughout the rest of the Xie household.
But just after such a major incident in the general’s residence, no one dared act rashly at this time, for fear of colliding with Xie Pingyue and not ending up with anything good.
Therefore, these past few days had been relatively peaceful for Xie Yi.
Early in the morning, he sat in the study, examining the account book taken from Vice Minister Wu’s residence.
That Vice Minister Wu had spent his life currying favor on all sides, wavering between the Crown Prince and Prince Qi. In the end, he lost his life, and the account book merely became someone else’s wedding dress.
Lin Zhiji glanced at it once. The pages were densely packed with writing, enough to make his eyes spin.
But he had no other choice, so he could only look at Xie Yi’s hands instead.
Xie Yi’s fingers were long, his knuckles distinct. His palms were covered in calluses, and across the back of his right hand stretched a scar that ran nearly the entire width, pressing down over raised veins.
Clearly they were hands made for severing tendons and breaking bones, yet when holding a brush, they carried an indescribable elegance and carefree refinement.
The longer Lin Zhiji watched, the more absentminded he became.
So he failed to notice that the hand holding the brush had stopped at some point, a drop of ink spreading across the paper.
At that moment, someone knocked on the door.
Lin Zhiji snapped back to attention.
Xie Yi set down the brush as well and casually crumpled the ink-stained paper into a ball. “Enter.”
A plain-looking maid walked in carrying tea and pastries.
Her name was Qingli, the same maid who had previously reported Madam Jiang’s scheme to Xie Yi.
Steward Xie handled matters with swift efficiency. By the very next day, attendants had already been assigned to Qingping Courtyard.
Four maids, two pages, and an old cleaning woman responsible for sweeping.
Aside from Qingli, there was also a page named Songlü, another subordinate of Xie Yi’s.
Lin Zhiji complained inwardly that the arrangements were just a little too perfect. It was hard not to suspect there were even more spies hidden somewhere inside the General’s Manor.
And these two were not only skilled at murder and arson—they were equally capable at household management.
In merely a day or two, they had thoroughly subdued the rest of the servants and managed the courtyard so tightly that not even water could seep through.
Xie Yi had now become the General Manor’s legitimate young master, so naturally the treatment he deserved followed as well.
Leaving aside everything else, just the food alone included not only the daily meals, but also allotted tea leaves, fruits, and pastries.
Qingli entered the study and skillfully arranged the tea and pastries.
Today’s pastries were different from usual. They were flaky savory pastries.
The layers were exceptionally well made, carrying the distinct salty fragrance of lard. It was exactly Lin Zhiji’s favorite kind.
Ever since hearing Xie Yi instruct Qingli to order this pastry from the kitchen, Lin Zhiji had been eagerly anticipating it, just waiting for Xie Yi to take a bite so he could piggyback off the taste.
Who would have thought Xie Yi merely glanced at the pastries before saying flatly, “Take them away.”
Lin Zhiji: “!!!”
Qingli did not dare ask further questions. She gathered the pastries back onto the tray and quietly withdrew.
Watching the delicious pastries disappear farther and farther away, Lin Zhiji was both furious and speechless.
If you weren’t going to eat them, then why order them in the first place?!
If he hadn’t been certain he’d never offended Xie Yi, Lin Zhiji would have thought the man was deliberately targeting him.
Now he could only conclude that Xie Yi was an emotionally unstable lunatic.
As a normal person, naturally he couldn’t stoop to arguing with a lunatic.
Sigh. Poor Qingli, ending up with a boss like this.
Thus, Xie Yi saw within the consciousness space that the little glowing sphere, which had been flickering angrily moments before, gradually calmed down again.
Once again, it was like this.
Ever since that night, Lin Zhiji had grown distant from him.
He was no longer as lively as before, no longer saying whatever came to mind. Instead, he had become extremely restrained.
When Xie Yi reviewed account books, he would proactively avoid disturbing him. When encountering pastries he liked, he no longer cleverly used missions as an excuse to coax Xie Yi into eating them.
Even when Xie Yi deliberately provoked him like this, he endured it silently.
Was he truly this afraid of him?
Xie Yi suddenly tightened his grip on the brush.
The once elegant, flowing calligraphy instantly turned sharp and murderous, the cold strokes nearly cutting through the paper itself.
Lin Zhiji instinctively shivered.
So for the following period of time, he became even more considerate.
He genuinely felt that lately he had already been extremely thoughtful toward Xie Yi.
When Xie Yi wanted solitude, he stayed as quiet as a chicken.
When Xie Yi worked, he stayed as quiet as a chicken.
When Xie Yi went out killing people, he even clenched his teeth shut to stop himself from screaming and interfering.
He had even considered Xie Yi’s dignity and refrained from bothering him with daily missions.
But who knew—not only did Xie Yi fail to appreciate it, he instead became even more moody and unpredictable.
Even Cang Feng vaguely sensed it and quietly asked Shen Xian, “Has Master… been in a bad mood recently?”
Shen Xian looked at him with indescribable complexity.
He felt that when this colleague of his had his arm cut before, perhaps it wasn’t the arm that had been severed, but his brain.
Didn’t he think about it? In the past, Master never had time to bother with dirty work like interrogations. Yet these last two days, he practically seemed to be living in the dungeon, frightening the interrogators so badly that even their efficiency had improved tremendously.
Since Shen Xian usually stayed at Prince Qi’s residence and only came over to report, his situation was slightly better.
And strangely enough, the one supposedly most affected, Songlü, had not only failed to lose weight—after not seeing him for a while, his face had actually become rounder.
Apparently because Master kept ordering pastries, only to have them removed untouched every single time, all of which ended up in Songlü’s stomach.
Even Shen Xian was bewildered.
How many pastries had he eaten to get this fat?
Also, didn’t Master dislike pastries?
Cang Feng muttered in confusion, “But recently nothing has happened that should upset Master. Everything’s progressing smoothly according to Master’s plans. As for the General Manor—”
Shen Xian helplessly cut him off. “Enough, enough. Stop overthinking it. It probably has nothing to do with any of that.”
Cang Feng asked, “Then what does it have to do with?”
Shen Xian: “…”
If I fucking knew, would I still be standing here getting punished with you?!
—
Inside the freezing dungeon, a prisoner was suspended from a torture rack, his body covered in bloody wounds.
The interrogator responsible was named Shuangren, Xie Yi’s subordinate who specialized in torture.
Anyone thrown into his dungeon would eventually talk. No matter how hard the bones, he could break them.
But at this moment, this villain capable of silencing crying children actually wore a stiff expression, dense sweat covering his perpetually pale face from never seeing sunlight.
And the cause of all this was Xie Yi, seated nearby watching him administer torture.
Xie Yi wore a sky-blue brocade robe, his hair neatly bound beneath a jade crown, revealing that incomparably handsome face.
He rested a bent finger against his temple, carrying an air of absentminded elegance.
If not for the gloomy dungeon surroundings, he would have looked more like some refined young noble composing poetry beneath the moon.
He lifted his eyelids slightly. “Why did you stop?”
Shuangren cautiously replied, “Master, the man’s already fainted. Continuing the torture won’t accomplish anything, so this…”
Yet Xie Yi merely said indifferently, “Continue.”
Shuangren’s face nearly twisted into bitterness.
With Master personally present today, he was just as confused as Shen Xian and Cang Feng.
Were these prisoners really that important?
Fine—even if they were important, Master clearly had no interest in the confessions at all. He simply sat there watching him.
Surely he hadn’t really come just to admire torture methods, right???
But since Master had spoken, he dared not stop.
As long as the prisoner merely fainted, it was fine. But Shuangren had far more to consider.
He needed the wounds to look horrifying without actually killing the man, making every strike nerve-racking.
The monotonous crack of the whip echoed through the dungeon.
Xie Yi lowered his lashes slightly and thought maliciously: Since Lin Zhiji despised bloodshed, then he would force him to watch all of this with his own eyes.
And besides, he also wanted to know—
If Lin Zhiji feared him this much…
Would he beg him?