Chang Yuncheng escorted the heavily intoxicated Fan Yilin home, declining the Wang family's invitation to stay for a meal. By the time he returned, dusk was settling over the estate.

Though he knew Qi Yue wasn't home, the sight of a light burning inside the house warmed his heart nonetheless.

"My Lord, may we set out the meal?" Qiu Xiang inquired.

Chang Yuncheng shook his head.

"No need, I don't wish to eat right now," he stated.

Qiu Xiang acknowledged him and moved to withdraw.

"Have the kitchen prepare a late supper for the Young Mistress to eat when she returns," Chang Yuncheng added.

Qiu Xiang confirmed once more and retreated.

After washing up, Chang Yuncheng still couldn't resist walking over to Qi Yue’s side of the room. He lit a lamp, illuminating the somewhat chaotic state of her desk.

This woman was truly peculiar; she wouldn't tidy her desk herself, nor would she allow the maids to, claiming that if things were organized, she’d never be able to find anything. She’d probably lose things even if they were neatly arranged, he mused.

Chang Yuncheng smiled faintly and settled into Qi Yue’s usual chair. He thought he could still catch the faint scent of her delicate perfume in the air.

He picked up a sheet of paper, seeing it covered entirely in what looked like gibberish scrawls. Suddenly, a fierce gust of wind slammed against the windowpane, causing the candlelight to flicker wildly.

Chang Yuncheng reached out to shield the flame and lowered his head to study the writing intently.

The wind howled. Qi Yue pulled her cap down tighter, watching as Hu San and the others huddled together, shivering.

"It’s alright, you’ll get used to it," she told Liu Pucheng, while curiously asking him, "Teacher, when you first came here, were you frightened?"

Liu Pucheng’s beard was whipping wildly in the wind; he reached up to grasp it.

"Frightened, yes," he admitted.

Hu San and the others seemed slightly reassured upon hearing this.

"Master is scared too? We thought you weren't afraid of anything," they chuckled.

The atmosphere eased considerably. By then, they had arrived before the temporary mortuary shed.

On a blustery winter night, the shed felt even more unnerving.

A single light suddenly pierced the darkness, drifting toward them.

Hu San couldn't suppress a sharp cry.

"Doctor Liu, you've arrived." The Coffin Boy spoke, raising his lamp higher to reveal his features.

He addressed Liu Pucheng, yet his gaze remained fixed on Qi Yue.

Qi Yue, just as she had the first time, had her face and head completely veiled, showing only her eyes. She offered the Coffin Boy a small smile.

"Hurry inside," the Coffin Boy urged, suppressing the excited thump of his heart as he led the way.

Compared to the last occasion, Hu San and the others showed slightly better composure, but when Qi Yue slit the deceased’s mouth and nostrils, they couldn't help but turn their heads away sharply.

This time, Qi Yue was mainly focused on running an experiment with Liu Pucheng concerning a specific blue line—she didn't scold them for their reactions.

"...Achieving precise alignment during dissection... the most crucial part is the orbicularis oris muscle repair; otherwise, it will affect the entire function of the upper lip movement..." Qi Yue spoke as she worked.

"What is the orbicularis oris muscle?" the Coffin Boy’s voice drifted from the side.

Liu Pucheng looked up, surprised, not having noticed the Coffin Boy was still present.

Qi Yue glanced at him.

"Here, it’s this one," she said, pointing with the scissors she held.

Seeing her gesture, the Coffin Boy immediately stepped closer.

"...I will make a full-thickness oblique incision here... then the skin... the muscle... the mucous membrane... separating... Doctor Liu, I need you to retract here... Yes, just like that..."

"...Here, I will sever the columella from the ala of the nose, and I will divide it into three muscle flaps here... three crossed sutures... Needle..." Qi Yue reached out her hand.

Liu Pucheng was retracting on the opposite side, unable to reach the needle and thread. Hu San and the other disciples were still trembling, and A’ru, while not paralyzed by fear, was rigid and completely unable to move. When I truly perform surgery, I must ensure all instruments and threads are kept nearby, or this will be troublesome...

Qi Yue prepared to let go and fetch the needle herself.

The Coffin Boy reached out, took it, and handed it to her.

Qi Yue smiled at him.

"And the forceps," she requested.

The Coffin Boy grinned, his eyes brightened, and he immediately turned. Wait, forceps?

"The third one on the left," Qi Yue directed.

The Coffin Boy murmured an affirmative, curiously picking up the strange tool and passing it to Qi Yue, never letting his eyes stray from her hands.

Qi Yue mentally reviewed the suturing steps she had designed and practiced countless times, her hands moving deftly.

Z-plasty for the vermilion border... incision through the thin vermilion border transition zone... embedding the lip-shaped vermilion flap...

Throughout this process, the Coffin Boy either handed her surgical tools or assisted Liu Pucheng in retracting and clamping the lip. He was fully integrated into the procedure; apart from a moment of confusion when presented with unfamiliar instruments, he showed no awkwardness whatsoever.

"Not bad, young man," Qi Yue remarked with genuine admiration as she assessed him.

"Spending all day with corpses, of course he’s not afraid of anything," Hu San couldn't help but mutter.

A’ru shot him a glare, and Hu San subsided, not daring to speak further.

The Coffin Boy seemed slightly uncomfortable under her praise.

"Hey, why don't you stay and be my assistant?" Qi Yue proposed, increasingly impressed by how useful the young man was; his sheer calmness in the face of dissection alone would be a huge help.

Liu Pucheng cleared his throat hastily.

The momentary brightness in the Coffin Boy's eyes dimmed again.

"The Young Mistress honors me, but this lowly person dares not accept," he replied coolly.

"Why are you lowly?" Qi Yue challenged him, her eyes flashing.

Why lowly? The expressions of everyone else in the room were complex. Did he really need to spell it out?

"But I’m serious," Qi Yue insisted. "Young man, think about it."

The Coffin Boy smiled but said nothing. Serious? That's the biggest lie in the world. He’s only after these corpses. There’s no need to flatter him so. We are all just taking what we need from each other.

Liu Pucheng and his group soon departed. The Coffin Boy casually tossed the payment into a corner of the room and, retrieving his own needle and thread, returned to the dissection room.

He stood before the corpse, pulled back the white cloth to reveal the chest, picked up his scalpel to cut the skin, then paused to examine the suture marks around the mouth and nose before picking up his needle and thread.

"A suture like this..." he muttered, recalling what he had just witnessed, his needle flying rapidly back and forth.

It was just past the Chou Shi hour when Qi Yue finally stepped back inside her own home. She let out a breath. If things continued at this pace, she wouldn't need to fabricate emergency calls in the middle of the night anymore.

Hearing the movement at the door, Chang Yuncheng immediately stood up. The door opened, and it was the maid Ah Hao.

"The Young Mistress has gone to wash. I've come for her clothes," she said, keeping her head down.

Chang Yuncheng acknowledged her with a sound and sat back down.

Ah Hao quickly retrieved some clothes from the nearby wardrobe and retreated without raising her gaze.

A long time seemed to pass. Accompanied by the voices of the night-duty maids offering their evening greetings outside, the door stirred again. Qi Yue entered, trailed by the steam of her recent bath.

"Ah, you’re still awake," she remarked, shaking her damp hair.

Chang Yuncheng looked at her.

"Why are you only back so late?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

Qi Yue pouted, about to speak, when Chang Yuncheng gave a small cough.

"...You must be tired," he amended.

Qi Yue looked up at him, her expression one of thorough scrutiny.

Chang Yuncheng felt a prickle all over under her gaze.

"What are you looking at?" he snapped.

Qi Yue smiled at him.

"This time it was normal," she confirmed with a nod.

Chang Yuncheng understood, his temper immediately flaring. He reached out and grabbed Qi Yue as she sauntered past.

"Hey, what are you up to now? If you add new wounds, are you going to pin them on Young Master Fan again?" Qi Yue teased, unable to suppress a laugh at her own words.

Chang Yuncheng looked at her demeanor, and his pent-up irritation dissipated.

"My Lord, Young Mistress, the late supper has arrived."

The maid’s voice from outside separated the couple.

Looking at the exquisite, savory congee and side dishes, Qi Yue thanked Chang Yuncheng again.

Chang Yuncheng sat opposite her in silence.

The atmosphere was somewhat awkward and heavy, so Qi Yue stopped speaking, and they each ate their congee. When dealing with a woman, you must praise her, be considerate of her, and constantly say, 'I know you’ve worked hard,' 'I know you’ve been wronged.' It doesn't matter if she has or hasn't been wronged; saying this is never wrong.

Chang Yuncheng swallowed a mouthful of congee.

"You were wronged before," he stated.

Qi Yue, mid-bite of congee, looked up at him.

"What?" she asked indistinctly. This vile woman... is she deliberately pretending not to understand?

"Before," Chang Yuncheng repeated gruffly. As he said this, Fan Yilin's drunken words echoed in his ears: When speaking to a woman, you must be gentle; be as sweet as possible...

"...You were wronged."

Chang Yuncheng’s latter half of the sentence dropped abruptly in pitch and became somewhat distorted, as if an unseen hand had suddenly clamped around his throat.

Qi Yue, spoon halfway to her mouth, waited for him to finish. Hearing the garbled end, she couldn't help but choke out a laugh.

"You wicked woman!" Chang Yuncheng exploded in vexation, slamming the table and rising to leave. I knew that scamp Fan Yilin’s advice was unreliable! I must have been out of my mind to believe him!

Qi Yue coughed a few times until she stabilized, watching as the light near Chang Yuncheng's side of the room went out. Did I really hit him too hard? Did I hurt his head?

The night passed uneventfully.

The next morning, the couple finished breakfast in silence. As Chang Yuncheng stood to leave, Qi Yue called out to him.

"I brewed some medicinal tonic for disinfection. Let me wipe your wound," she offered.

Normally, Chang Yuncheng would have swept out with a flourish, but he forcibly checked his momentum and stopped walking.

A’ru brought in the finished tonic. Qi Yue personally cut several pieces of cotton cloth, soaked them, and motioned for Chang Yuncheng to sit.

A’ru hesitated, then lowered her head and withdrew.

Quezhi, carrying tea, was about to enter when A’ru intercepted her.

"But the Young Mistress specifically asked for this just now..." Quezhi peered cautiously toward the room, speaking in a low voice.

"She doesn't need it now," A’ru stated, taking the tea from her and walking away.

Quezhi pouted and retreated as well.

Using tweezers to hold the cloth, Qi Yue carefully cleaned the wound on Chang Yuncheng's forehead.

Because of the stinging sensation of the medicated liquid, Chang Yuncheng slightly tilted his head, and Qi Yue's hand immediately softened its pressure. This woman... it’s because she cares about me...

Chang Yuncheng’s rigid posture relaxed. He remained seated while the woman stood, her soft body, faintly scented with the herbal aroma, close before his eyes.

"What scent are you wearing? It’s... quite pleasant," he remarked suddenly.

Qi Yue froze, raising her sleeve to sniff. She realized it was the scent of the disinfecting tonic she had soaked in after returning from the mortuary shed last night. Pleasant? It doesn't smell very pleasant, does it?

"I've been going to the apothecary so often, I must have unintentionally picked up a medicinal smell. It’s not perfume," she laughed, setting down the cotton cloth. "There, it’s done. It will heal in a couple of days."

Before her words had fully faded, Chang Yuncheng reached out and encircled her waist, pulling her close against him.

Qi Yue tensed up again.

"Hey, are you going to..." she began to call out.

"Before, I let you suffer wrong," Chang Yuncheng interrupted, his voice low.

That sentence again...

Sensing that he made no further move, only holding her gently but firmly, Qi Yue’s tension slightly eased.

"Hey, didn't we agree not to mention the past anymore..." she said with a dry laugh, holding her hands up unsurely where to place them.

"Not mentioning it is one thing, but I cannot be ignorant of it," Chang Yuncheng said, looking up at her. "I must know what wrongs you have endured."

This man... he really is acting abnormally... Qi Yue twitched the corner of her mouth. She was truly unaccustomed to this version of Chang Yuncheng. Could he have suffered some genuine shock that affected his mind? Perhaps she shouldn't provoke him further...

"Actually, I didn't really suffer much..." she mumbled dryly.

See? This woman isn't throwing a tantrum or spouting righteous indignation like before, Chang Yuncheng thought. This is what that scamp meant: women’s hearts are soft. If you take one step back, she’ll retreat ten steps...

A smile couldn't help but surface on Chang Yuncheng’s lips.

Book Title: Jia Xu (The Excellent Son-in-Law) Author: Ye Huimei Synopsis: A fierce commoner man and woman join forces to overturn the wealthy elite and claim territory! RS