Chapter Fifty-Six: Responsibility

At this rate, Mo Niannian had no idea how long it would take to finish this wretched task.

If she’d known, she never would have agreed to that demon’s request.

Because of this matter, Mo Niannian no longer dared to produce anything out of place in this little world.

Ah, how infuriating!

So infuriating that she muted the system for twenty-four hours.

System: ????

Meow meow meow? Why is it always the one to get hurt?

“Miss, a message has arrived from the Princess’s residence.” Baishao hurried over to Mo Niannian, her steps light with excitement.

The spot beside Mo Niannian was already occupied by Jiang Hu, so Baishao could only stand on her other side. Her smile was radiant. “The Princess’s residence is hosting a Mid-Autumn banquet and has invited you to attend.”

A banquet? Mo Niannian lost interest as soon as she heard.

Baishao looked at her with wide, hopeful eyes. “Miss, will you go?”

Her entire face was alight with longing.

Entertainment was scarce in this era, and Baishao yearned for such festivities. Even just to watch the bustle would be enough.

Mo Niannian saw the look in Baishao’s eyes and felt a bit helpless. Remembering she hadn’t stepped outside in over half a month, she nodded slightly. “All right, we’ll go.”

Baishao was overjoyed.

“I knew Miss was the best!” Baishao crouched by Mo Niannian’s side, her eyes bright with excitement.

Jiang Hu watched the scene in silence, his chest aching with discomfort. It was a harsh sight—he truly disliked this woman.

He covered his mouth and coughed twice, his face turning instantly pale.

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling ill again?” Mo Niannian looked at him with concern.

Jiang Hu bowed his head, his spirits low. “It’s nothing.”

Mo Niannian, worried, poured him a cup of hot water. “Here, have some.”

Jiang Hu’s hand hung limp at his side, a hint of apology in his eyes. “Mistress, just set it down. I’ll drink it in a moment.”

His complexion was truly off, and Mo Niannian pressed further. “What’s wrong, really?”

“My hand… I have no strength,” Jiang Hu replied apologetically.

“Oh, it’s nothing much. Just drink,” Mo Niannian insisted, handing him the cup.

During the worst of Jiang Hu’s illness, it was always Mo Niannian who cared for him.

She had thought of finding a few servants to help, but Jiang Hu refused to let anyone else near him.

After two failed attempts, his sickness only worsened.

Mo Niannian had no choice but to tend to him herself.

“Thank you, Mistress.” Jiang Hu’s voice was reverent and intense, the light in his eyes almost frightening.

He bowed his head, revealing the long line of his neck, the collar around it gleaming coldly.

He stretched out a crimson tongue to lick the water from his lips, his eyes curving in a dazzling smile.

Baishao muttered something under her breath, clearly annoyed.

Mo Niannian didn’t catch it, but Jiang Hu cast Baishao a casual glance, his gaze predatory, full of warning.

Baishao glared right back.

“Mistress, your servant… your servant has a favor to ask.” Jiang Hu spoke weakly, his words interrupted by a fit of coughing.

A frail beauty always stirred pity, especially one as exquisite as Jiang Hu. When someone usually so cold and sharp showed vulnerability, it only ignited the instinct to protect.

Mo Niannian was no exception. Her voice softened. “What is it?”

“I’d like to ask Mistress to withdraw those people.”

Mo Niannian had assigned some attendants to care for him, though Jiang Hu never allowed them near.

In the end, it was she who did everything.

Mo Niannian was puzzled. “You don’t like them? Should I find someone else?”

“That’s not it. They’re fine, but… I’m not used to having people around me.”

His expression was fragile and wary, and Mo Niannian suddenly remembered the hero’s tragic past.

How pitiful—no wonder he refused company. He’d suffered too much, scarred inside and out.

“It’s all right, you don’t have to have them. But your wounds aren’t healed—are you sure you don’t need help?”

“I’m fine. I can take care of myself.” Jiang Hu tried to lift his arm, but his injuries made it impossible.

His head drooped in defeat.

Mo Niannian took in the whole scene, her heart aching. This poor thing.

“Never mind, I’ll help you. Just call me if you need anything.”

After all, his injuries were her fault.

What harm in taking care of him for a while?

He was so pitiful—Mo Niannian couldn’t bear to see him like this.

She remembered how wild and fierce he’d been the first time they met, like a wolf of the grasslands.

How had he come to this?

Mo Niannian couldn’t make sense of it.

“Miss! How can you, a lady of such standing, do these things?” Baishao was nearly hopping with indignation.

Jiang Hu also lowered his head, obediently. “It’s all right, Mistress. You needn’t trouble yourself.”

“It’s settled. No more arguing,” Mo Niannian said, dismissing the matter and turning to sample the kitchen’s new jerky.

But it wasn’t as tasty as what the male lead made.

She’d been utterly spoiled by his cooking.

Mo Niannian gnawed at her jerky, full of resentment.

Baishao shot Jiang Hu a fierce glare, sidling over to mutter, “Don’t think saving Miss gives you free rein.”

Jiang Hu’s eyes flickered, his head bowed, trembling. “I know my place. I only wish to stay by the Miss’s side.”

He spoke too quickly and was seized by a fit of coughing.

Baishao: ???

What was that supposed to mean?

Mo Niannian looked over, her gaze questioning.

Jiang Hu’s coughing grew worse, and Mo Niannian moved to wrap him more securely in his cloak.

“Baishao, what did you say to him?”

Baishao, at a loss for words, widened her eyes. “Miss, I…”

Jiang Hu’s eyes reddened with anxiety. “It’s all my fault for upsetting Miss Baishao.”

“Baishao, looking after Jiang Hu is my decision. You needn’t say more.”

Jiang Hu’s coughing showed no sign of stopping, so Mo Niannian had to help him back to his room. Left alone, Baishao stood in the wind, bewildered. What had she even said?

Supported by Mo Niannian, Jiang Hu coughed with every step as they made their way back.

His eyes lowered, he basked in her warmth.

For the sake of Baishao’s loyalty to her mistress, he’d let her off this once. But if there was a next time, he had many ways to deal with her, none leaving a trace.

A flicker of malice passed through Jiang Hu’s eyes, gone as quickly as it came. Leaning weakly against Mo Niannian, he murmured, “I’m troubling Mistress.”

“You’re not a trouble.”

Was this a burden? No, it was her responsibility and her atonement.

Mo Niannian sighed deeply.

“For tomorrow’s gathering, may I go too?” Jiang Hu looked at her, full of anticipation.

“You want to go?”

“I do.”

He wanted to follow her, wherever she went.

“Then come, but if you feel unwell, you must tell me at once. Promise you won’t keep it to yourself.”

Mo Niannian truly worried about Jiang Hu’s health—what if he fainted at the banquet?

“I understand.”