“Zheng’er!” Bai Yinan and his wife were on the verge of tears again.
Feng Linyuan scooped her into his arms. “Father, Mother, I’ll take Zheng’er back to her room and have the physician tend to her.”
Bai Yinan nodded through tears. Watching his precious daughter go limp had set his heart ablaze—he wanted to follow Feng Linyuan himself—but at the other end, the attendants from the general’s household had pulled his aged mother ashore. She was, to him, just as important.
Guilt and reluctance warred in Bai Yinan’s face as he stared at Bai Zheng’s closed eyes. “Go, then…quickly.”
They stood there with reddened eyes as Feng Linyuan carried Bai Zheng away.
Back at the pavilion, Bai Sheng and Lady He lay sodden on the bench, attendants flitting about in a panic. Bai Yinan had little choice but to force himself steady and order Bai Fu to get them settled in the nearest guest rooms. Madam Zhao followed Bai Sheng, sobbing so hard she could hardly breathe. Lin Shi, as the younger daughter-in-law, clung to her own daughter but dutifully stayed with Lady He, tending to her as best she could. As head of the household, Bai Yinan was everywhere at once—sending for the physician, dispatching someone to inform the general’s residence.
For a time the Bai household was chaos: hurried feet, shouted instructions, the thud of closed doors—everywhere but one place.
Bai Zheng’s room.
Master Zhu lifted his hand from her pulse and smiled faintly. “Do not worry, Marquis. The lady has only taken on a chill. It is nothing serious.”
“Was the Cold-Ice Powder any harm to her?” Feng Linyuan asked, voice low.
On the way back, Mo Tong had reported everything—how Bai Zheng had drawn him away, how Feng Linyuan had leapt into the lake dusted with the powder. The image of her struggling on the water had tightened his chest.
Master Zhu shook his head. “When the lady plunged in the powder had already dissipated. The lake water was icy, though—she was unprepared, took a fright, swallowed water and chilled through. She lost consciousness, but you pulled her up in time. The inhalation and chill were not severe. A little rest and she’ll wake.
“If you’re worried, I can give a calming, warming prescription. Have Qingzhi brew it; two days’ tea should do.”
The sight of Bai Zheng fighting on the lake made Feng Linyuan’s features heavier. He inclined his head. “Thank you, Master Zhu.”
“Think nothing of it.” Master Zhu smiled at the woman on the bed with a look that carried more than professional concern and then slipped out.
“Everyone else may leave,” Feng Linyuan ordered the attendants gathered in the room. “I am here.”
The servants froze, exchanging glances. Only Zhu Ling answered with a quiet “Yes,” and led them away.
At last the room belonged only to the two of them—Feng Linyuan and Bai Zheng.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his expression tight as he watched the woman who had seemed to darken on the lakeshore but now lay serene. “You don’t have to pretend. There’s no one else here.”
Bai Zheng’s lashes fluttered. She opened her eyes—clear, bright, every trace of the pallor at the lake gone. She met him and, a little sheepish, tried to laugh. “Was I that bad at it?”
He only shook his head. “No—yes.”
She drew a breath to relax, then heard him continue: “You were convincing enough you nearly fooled me.”
His tone was sharper than she expected. She blinked at him, then ducked her head a fraction. “I didn’t mean to deceive you,” she said softly. “It all happened so suddenly. There wasn’t time to tell you.”
“Sudden or not, you jumped into the lake yourself.” He fixed her with a rare, hard look. “What if I’d been a moment later? What if the servants from the general’s residence had intended harm while they were rescuing your grandmother?”
Her face fell. “I knew you would be the first to come. I counted on that. With you—someone like you, Marquis Feng—there’s no one among the servants who’d dare lay a hand on my lady.”
Feng Linyuan snorted. “You have me backing you—so why set yourself up as a martyr? If there is a case to make, tell your father. Why leap and risk your life for a demonstration?”
She drew in a long, quiet breath and the humor in her expression thinned. “If I tell Father plainly, he won’t disbelieve me. But…she is his mother. He’s a filial man to his core. If I say that Lady He has been downright cruel, he’ll soothe me and tell me to endure; if I say she wished me harm, he’ll assume a misunderstanding. He always believes blood first.”
Feng Linyuan frowned. Over the recent days he’d learned enough of Bai Yinan to know the truth of that. Bai Yinan was kind, upright, not given to frivolity—a man of sentiment and loyalty who had remained faithful to one wife, Lin Shi, all his life. He lavished what he could upon his children and suffered wrongdoing from relatives on the common assumption that kin mattered more than justice.
That softness had been Bai Zheng’s protection for so long: because there’d been no gain to take from her, people had let it pass. But now Lady He, protective of her eldest son and his branch of the family, seemed to have escalated—she would not be satisfied with petty cruelty. If she truly meant to harm Bai Zheng, what then?
Bai Zheng lowered her eyes; the smile at her lips had gone cold. She would have to force Bai Yinan to see clearly, to cut the root of Lady He’s poison by cruel necessity—by shaking his trust so hard it could no longer be used against her.
Feng Linyuan sighed and closed the small distance between them, taking her icy hands in his own. “I know why you did it,” he said quietly. “You hoped to force his hand. You hoped that in seeing you threatened, he’d wake to what’s been happening.”
She turned her face up to him. “Exactly. If I keep letting it slide, Lady He will only grow bolder. She’ll target Nianjin, Nianming—who knows what she’ll do when she thinks she can get away with it.”
He held her hands a moment longer, feeling the tremor beneath the calm. “She’s dangerous,” he agreed. “But throwing yourself into the lake to prove it—there are other ways. We’ll make him see. We’ll make him protect you—and then we’ll cut this off at the root.”
Bai Zheng let out a breath that might have been a laugh or a sob. Outside, the house still hummed with anxious footsteps, but in the small, warm room it felt for a heartbeat like danger had been kept from the world.