Chapter 14: I’ll Make It Up to You Later.

Meng Yiran silently recited in her heart, “Don’t air your dirty laundry in public,” and patiently stayed by Tong Yuwu’s side to greet the guests.

As a rare treasure in this world, the Little White Cat drew plenty of attention. Many of the madams and misses present grew curious about her and asked Tong Yuwu where she had come from. The bolder ones bent down to pet her right away.

But Tong Yuwu blocked their hand midway.

The rejected stranger didn’t pull back. Instead, she asked directly, “I really like her. Can I give her a stroke?”

“No,” Tong Yuwu replied, shaking her head. “She doesn’t like being touched by strangers.”

Even as she spoke, her right hand rested on the Little White Cat, kneading those tender pink ears without a care.

Meng Yiran stayed utterly still, perfectly docile.

The pampered noble miss grew annoyed. “But she didn’t resist you.”

Tong Yuwu lowered her head, baring the silky curve of her swan-like neck.

She gazed down at the Little White Cat. “That’s right. No one but me.”

Meng Yiran’s body went limp, nearly drowning in those limpid eyes. She had no attention left to nitpick the words.

The noble miss clearly wasn’t convinced. Seeing Tong Yuwu as nothing more than a frail invalid in a wheelchair, she sidestepped her and shot her hand out toward the Little White Cat.

Meng Yiran dodged with quick reflexes.

But Tong Yuwu’s hand moved even faster. Before anyone could react, the seemingly delicate noble miss—who needed a wheelchair just to get around—had clamped down on the intruder’s wrist.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the woman snapped, lips pursed. “Let go!”

Tong Yuwu stared at her steadily, not releasing her grip right away.

The invalid miss in her wheelchair already had porcelain-pale skin, and now, with her injury, her face was ashen overall, save for a thin thread of color buried deep within her lips. She looked terribly fragile.

The woman held her gaze and, in her daze, caught a faint whiff of metallic tang. A chill shot up from the base of her spine, racing through her entire body.

In the next instant, she let out an uncontrollable scream, drawing eyes from all around.

Tong Yuwu frowned and slowly let go.

The woman yanked her arm back to her chest. Beneath her pampered skin, blood rushed back into place—but four ugly azure bruises now coiled across it like venomous serpents.

Meng Yiran stared in astonishment, eyes wide.

Tong Yuwu’s palm settled back on her, stroking the Little White Cat’s fur. Meng Yiran twisted around to lick her fingertip, baffled at how such slender, delicate fingers could muster that kind of strength.

The noble miss clutched her wrist and burst into tears. Her injury was plain for all to see. The Little White Cat lifted her head and meowed apologetically twice. But Tong Yuwu pinned her ears down, forcing her to settle again.

A few madams and misses hurried over to support the sobbing woman. They murmured comforts to her while shooting dark looks at Tong Yuwu.

Tong Yuwu paid them no mind. She left the matter to the servants and had Jenny wheel them off to the second-floor balcony for some air.

With no guests up there, it was far more peaceful. But they barely had time to relax before Tong Rencheng came chasing after them.

Jenny’s eyes bulged, her gaze sharpening with wariness. Without a word from Tong Yuwu—or the guards standing nearby—she might have barked at him to stay back.

Tong Rencheng had come for a real reason.

“The Rose Medal’s gone missing,” he said, rubbing his hands. He seemed genuinely concerned for Tong Yuwu. “Should we grab a spare from the warehouse? Otherwise, the ritual later is going to turn into a farce.”

“The medal?” Tong Yuwu fished a black cloth bundle from her skirt pocket and unwrapped it. The golden Rose Medal gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight. “This one?”

Tong Rencheng’s eyes glued themselves to it. “You… you actually got it back?”

“Mm,” Tong Yuwu said.

She tilted her head back, holding the medal up to the sun. Rays pierced the filigree, dappling her impossibly beautiful face in a lavish mosaic of light and shadow.

She turned to Tong Rencheng. “Disappointed?”

His breath caught. He jerked his head aside. “Disappointed? Cough, no idea what you mean.”

Tong Yuwu smiled faintly, toying with the medal in her palm. Her fingertip traced the rose petals’ edges, pressing pale indents that she refused to release.

Abruptly, she reared back her arm and hurled it forward.

The golden medal traced a graceful arc through the air before landing with a plop in the fountain pool down in the garden.

Tong Rencheng’s eyes nearly popped out. He gripped the balcony railing, leaning far over the edge. “What the hell?!”

Without waiting for Tong Yuwu’s reply, he spun on his heel and bolted downstairs.

Meng Yiran hopped down from Tong Yuwu’s thigh and leaped onto the railing of the open-air balcony. From her vantage point, she had a perfect view of Tong Rencheng scrambling awkwardly to the fountain’s edge. He grabbed the male servant by the collar, ordering him to dive in and retrieve whatever had fallen, but the servant had no idea what had plunged into the water moments ago and hesitated to act. Gritting his teeth, Tong Rencheng gave up on anyone else. He kicked off his shoes and socks and jumped in himself to grope around in the depths.

The guests on the first floor heard the commotion and poured out of the banquet hall to gawk, whispering among themselves as they stared at the drenched Tong Rencheng.

Meng Yiran quickly lost interest and turned back to Tong Yuwu.

The esteemed Doll Lady’s expression remained impassive, her emotions on display as sparingly as ever. Yet Meng Yiran could tell from the way she intently watched the fountain that she was pleased—clearly delighted by the spectacle Meng Yiran herself had set in motion.

It struck Meng Yiran as oddly dissonant, though she couldn’t quite put her paw on why after mulling it over.

She meowed to draw Tong Yuwu’s attention, then raised a front paw to point at the fountain.

Was it really fine to just toss out such an important family medal like that? She’d gone to great lengths to recover it, after all.

Tong Yuwu’s gaze shifted as expected. She reached out, scooped the Little White Cat into her arms, and leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on Meng Yiran’s forehead.

The Little White Cat closed her eyes, letting those cool lips brush against the soft fur there.

Tong Yuwu curved her lips into a smile, her face finally showing some hint of expression.

“I threw it away,” she said.

Then she added, “Don’t be mad. I’ll make it up to you later.”

Meng Yiran let out a soft, mellow meow to show she didn’t mind at all—as long as the Doll Lady was having fun.

A moment later, Tong Rencheng’s eyes lit up as he groped around in the water. He raised the medal triumphantly, his voice cracking with excitement: “Found it—”

The onlookers burst into laughter, applauding the farce as it reached its absurd conclusion. Tong Rencheng glanced around wildly, only to meet faces caked in powder and dripping with mockery.

He looked up toward the second-floor balcony, where Tong Yuwu cradled her cat and offered him a smirk from afar—infinitely more genuine than the others.

The coming-of-age banquet wrapped up successfully in the end, but the Rose Medal that Tong Rencheng had labored to fish out never saw use. The steward fetched another from storage. Meng Yiran carried it in her mouth, and Tong Yuwu pinned it to her own chest. It was a touch irregular, but with everything that had transpired that day, the guests were too exhausted to quibble.

Before nightfall, all the visitors departed, and the castle fell silent once more.

Meng Yiran had been listless ever since her inexplicable faint earlier that afternoon. Back in the third-floor master bedroom with Tong Yuwu, she jumped onto her soft little bed and flopped down in exhaustion. Her whole body felt like it had been run over by a truck—aching deeply, laced with a persistent, inescapable heat.

Tong Yuwu had already changed into fresh clothes. She lounged against the headboard, lost in thought as she toyed with a conical pendant in her hand, her eyes fixed on the decorative painting on the bedroom’s north wall. Suddenly, she pitched forward without warning and coughed up a mouthful of blood.