Reborn Sister Steals the Drunkard, So I'll Marry the Crippled General

Chapter 66: Chapter

The next morning arrived with a soft gray light as the snow fell in thin, gentle flakes over the quiet village.

Madame Zhang rushed around the main room in a flurry of nervous energy, packing extra blankets, hot roasted sweet potatoes, and dried meat into Yimei’s travel bags. Tears glistered in the old woman’s eyes as she smoothed down Yimei’s cloak.

”Take care of yourselves on the road, A-Yue,” Madame Zhang fussed, her voice thick with emotion. ”Make sure your husband drinks his hot soup, and don’t let his legs get cold!”

Outside in the courtyard, A-Cheng was already standing by a sturdy wooden farm wagon he had borrowed from a neighbor. He patted the sturdy draft horse, checking the harness to make sure everything was secure for the slippery mountain trail.

Zhengyu stood near the doorway, leaning on his wooden crutches and wrapped in a thick wool coat. He watched the family quietly, a heavy sense of respect in his dark eyes.

Before Yimei could pick up the last bag, heavy footsteps sounded down the hallway. Grandmaster Zhang walked out into the courtyard, his face as stern as ever, though his eyes carried a gentle warmth he couldn’t hide.

He stopped right in front of Yimei and reached into his wide sleeves, pulling out a thick, hand-stitched leather notebook. He held it out to her with both hands.

”Take this,” Grandmaster Zhang said, his raspy voice firm.

Yimei reached out, carefully taking the heavy book into her hands. As she flipped open the cover, her eyes widened slightly. The yellowed pages were filled with neat, highly detailed ink diagrams of human pressure points, along with clear, handwritten instructions for needle placements, herbal dosages, and leg massages.

”I stayed up last night writing down every step of his treatment,” the old doctor said, stroking his white beard and looking Yimei straight in the eye. ”Every needle technique, every massage, and every warm press his legs will need over the next month is in that book. Do not skip a single step, Xiao Yue.”

He looked over at Zhengyu, then back to Yimei, letting out a long, quiet breath.

”You might have the hands of a true healer,” Grandmaster Zhang added softly. ”Do not let them go to waste. Now get on the wagon before the snow gets heavier.”

Yimei bowed low to the old physician, holding the notebook tightly against her chest with deep, sincere gratitude.

”Thank you, Grandmaster,” she whispered. ”I will follow every word.”

Zhengyu stepped forward, leaning heavily on his wooden crutches. He bowed his head deeply to the old physician, his voice clear and full of sincere respect.

”Thank you, Grandmaster Zhang,” Zhengyu said, his jaw tightening slightly with emotion. ”For saving my life, for fixing my legs, and for sheltering us when we had nowhere else to go. I will never forget your kindness.”

The old doctor gave a short, firm nod, accepting the young man’s thanks with a subtle softening around his sharp eyes.

As Yimei turned to climb onto the wooden wagon alongside A-Cheng, Grandmaster Zhang took two steps forward. He looked at her calm face one last time, his bushy eyebrows furrowing slightly.

”Wait, Xiao Yue,” the old man called out softly.

Yimei stopped, turning her head back to meet his gaze.

”You played the part of a simple village wife very well,” Grandmaster Zhang said, his raspy voice carrying over the quiet, snowy courtyard. ”But a woman who speaks with such wisdom and moves with such absolute focus is no ordinary peasant.”

He stroked his long white beard, looking her straight in the eye with a small, knowing smile.

”You helped me see things clearly last night, and you are taking my notes to care for your husband,” the Grandmaster added quietly. ”Before you leave my home forever... at least tell me your real name. I deserve to know who you truly are.”

Yimei stood still for a moment, the soft snow falling gently around her cloak. She glanced over at Zhengyu, who watched her in quiet silence, before looking back at the old doctor.

A soft, genuine smile touched Yimei’s lips, not her usual fake mask, but a real one.

”Yimei,” she answered smoothly, her voice clear and proud in the cold morning air. ”My real name is Yimei.”

Madame Zhang smiled warmly, tears glinting in her eyes as she pulled her shawl tight against the chill.

”Yimei...” the old woman repeated softly, testing the name on her tongue with a gentle nod. ”Now that name fits you perfectly, child.”

Yimei offered one last respectful bow. ”Goodbye, Madame Zhang. Grandmaster Zhang.”

A-Cheng flicked the reins, and the heavy wagon wheels creaked to life, rolling slowly out of the snow-dusted courtyard and leaving the quiet village behind.

Yimei sat on the wooden bench inside the wagon, pulling her thick cloak around her shoulders. Across from her, Zhengyu leaned against the straw mats, his crutches resting safely at his side.

Zhengyu looked out the back for a long moment before turning his dark eyes toward Yimei. His expression turned serious as the reality of their situation returned.

”Yimei,” Zhengyu said, his voice low over the rolling wheels. ”Once A-Cheng drops us off at the main junction... we’re heading straight back to the Bai Manor, right?”

Yimei looked up from Grandmaster Zhang’s handwritten notebook, her dark eyes flashing with sharp focus as a small, cold smirk touched her lips.

”Yes, husband,” Yimei replied smoothly, her tone laced with playful authority. ”Our one-week break is over. We have to head back before they suspect something and start looking for us.”

Zhengyu’s fist tightened against his wooden crutch, his jaw setting hard at her words, though his gaze softened slightly.

The wagon slowed to a steady halt at the snowy junction. A-Cheng jumped down from the driver’s seat and helped untie their wooden chests, his usual cheerful face shadowed by a sad smile.

”I guess this is where we part ways, Sister Yimei, Brother Zhengyu,” A-Cheng said, his voice quiet as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Yimei stepped down from the wagon and adjusted her fur cloak. She looked at the young man who had given them shelter and help when they had nothing, her dark eyes softening into a genuine, warm gaze.

”Thank you for everything, A-Cheng,” Yimei said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. ”Keep learning from your father. You have a bright future waiting for you in the capital.”

A-Cheng’s eyes glistened, but he quickly wiped them with his sleeve and gave her a bright, determined nod. He then turned to Zhengyu, who was leaning on his crutches beside the wooden chests.

Zhengyu offered the young man a small, rare.

”Sister Yimei is very special, Brother Zhengyu,” A-Cheng said earnestly, looking Zhengyu straight in the eyes. ”She’s smart, strong, and fought hard for you. After Grandmaster Zhang’s treatment fixes your legs... you better make sure you treat her well.”

Zhengyu glanced sideways at Yimei, who merely smirked back at him with an amused eyebrow raised.

Zhengyu looked back at A-Cheng, his smile broadening just a fraction as he gave a firm nod. ”I will. Safe travels back, A-Cheng.”

The moment A-Cheng’s wagon disappeared down the snowy road, Zhengyu’s soft, grateful expression vanished into thin air. He grunted, leaning heavily on his crutches, and turned to Yimei with his usual sharp, annoying glare.

”Great. Now that he is gone, how on earth are we supposed to get back to the manor?” Zhengyu complained, sweeping his hand toward the empty, snow-covered road. ”My legs are useless, we’re stuck at a deserted mountain junction, and you’re standing there looking like we’re on a pleasant morning stroll!”

Yimei just smiled, rolling her eyes at his immediate return to being a dramatic, needy husband.

Before Zhengyu could launch into another round of complaining, five tall figures dropped silently from the surrounding trees into the deep snow. They wore full black robes with black cloth covering their lower faces, swords strapped tightly to their backs.

Zhengyu instantly tensed, reaching for his hidden dagger, but the men immediately dropped to one knee in front of Yimei.

”Young Mistress,” the lead assassin greeted, bowing his head with absolute respect. ”We have come to take you back, just as you instructed. The carriage is waiting over there.”