TFSRITA Chapter 160

Ji Jiaxun didn’t want to leave, but since everyone else was going, there was no point in staying behind by himself. With no better choice, he trudged back, clearly sulking.

His expression was sour, and his steps carried him instinctively to his courtyard.

The moment he stepped inside, he heard a crisp, familiar voice: “You’re back? Shut the gate.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the servant guarding the gate called out from outside. The courtyard door promptly clicked shut, enclosing Ji Jiaxun within his domain.

A chill ran down his spine, but he forced himself to stay calm and strolled further inside.

As he entered the main hall, a woman dressed in bright red appeared, walking toward him with a familiar stick in hand.

“What are you doing?” Ji Jiaxun snapped, his voice defiant. “Don’t you dare! If you lay a hand on me, you won’t survive until tomorrow!”

Yan Qing tilted her head and smiled, her large eyes narrowing slightly, the corners of her crimson lips curling upward into a devilish grin. “Oh? Why don’t we see if I’ll make it through the night, then?”

With that, her expression sharpened, and she strode forward, swinging the stick with a whoosh that cut through the air.

Ji Jiaxun’s face paled as he dodged the blow, heart pounding. He couldn’t believe she was serious.

“Are you insane?!” he yelled, narrowly avoiding another strike. Panicked, he bolted toward the courtyard gate, only to find it firmly locked. Sweat poured down his forehead as he saw Yan Qing coming at him again, stick raised.

He shouted in frustration, “You’re crazy! You want me dead!”

The stick landed squarely on his backside, sending him stumbling forward with a yelp.

Clutching his rear, Ji Jiaxun ran in circles around the courtyard, shouting threats. “Just you wait! Once I’m out of here, you’re finished!”

“You’re a vicious woman!”

“Ack—ow!” Another pained cry erupted as the stick found its mark again.

Ji Jiaxun, desperate for a break, tried to stop, but as soon as he turned his head, Yan Qing’s cold expression—resembling a grim reaper—sent him running again. “You maniac! Father! Mother! She’s trying to kill her husband!”

“Relax, I know my limits,” Yan Qing finally responded, her voice slightly breathless but her pace unrelenting.

Some people, she thought, just needed a good beating to behave.

Outside the courtyard, the Princess and the Marquis, who had come to eavesdrop, exchanged glances. They were surprised but also somewhat relieved. It seemed their assumptions about Yan Qing’s capabilities might be correct.

The Princess smiled. “Shall we head back?”

The Marquis nodded. “Let’s.”

Inside the courtyard, the chaos eventually subsided.

Ji Jiaxun was sprawled on his stomach in bed, whining softly as Yan Qing applied medicine to his injuries.

His face was burning with embarrassment, buried deeply in his pillow. He’d been patched up countless times before—his father had beaten him more than he could count—but this time felt different. He felt utterly defeated.

When he tried to wiggle away, Yan Qing pressed down on his wound, causing him to hiss in pain and freeze.

Satisfied that he was finally staying still, Yan Qing arched an eyebrow and asked with a hint of amusement, “Still planning to visit the Green Lotus Pavilion?”

“No,” Ji Jiaxun mumbled, his voice muffled and dejected.

Her smile widened as she ruffled his hair playfully. “Good. Be a good boy and behave.”

Ji Jiaxun bit his lip, unwilling to admit defeat. This woman was relentless—much worse than his father, who at least showed mercy when he begged. She had no qualms about pinning him down and dealing out punishment.

He rubbed his aching backside and lamented his fate. Surely, she was sent by the heavens to torment him.

“I’m thirsty,” he grumbled, his voice hoarse from yelling earlier.

Yan Qing gave him a sidelong glance, and a servant quickly brought over a cup of tea.

Just as he opened his mouth to drink, Yan Qing smacked him on the head. “What, can’t use your own hands? Or do you want to lose those too?”

Ji Jiaxun glared at her, pouting, but ultimately reached out to take the cup himself.

As he sipped the warm tea, he stole a glance at Yan Qing, who was focused on her task. Her sharp, elegant features were softened by her concentration, and her long lashes fluttered slightly as she worked. He felt a strange flutter in his chest, and the tea, which had seemed bitter at first, now tasted oddly sweet.

He quickly finished and handed the cup back, burying his face in the pillow once more. His ears, which had been fine moments ago, now burned red.

That night, Ji Jiaxun behaved himself for the first time in a long while. Yan Qing, pleased with her success, went to bed content.

The next morning, as they prepared to return to the Princess’s estate, Ji Jiaxun’s walking was less than dignified. When he climbed into the carriage, his awkward posture and inability to sit properly drew amused glances from those around him.

“Pfft…” The Princess couldn’t help but laugh, quickly covering her mouth with a handkerchief. Her eyes sparkled with mirth, the corners crinkling in delight.

“Mother! How could you laugh at me? I’m your son!” Ji Jiaxun exclaimed, utterly betrayed.