The Comeback of the Charming Farmer's Wife

Yang Chuxia stared at the person ahead, whose face had become so gaunt as to be unrecognizable, the cheekbones now appeared much higher.

She had thought he would say something, but instead, he walked straight up to her, lifted his robe, and knelt down without hesitation, leaving Yang Chuxia startled.

"Brother An, why have you come?"

Yet Ye Zi’an didn’t answer her; he just knelt quietly, his eyes fixed on hers. In them, she saw reluctance, pain, and pity—so many emotions.

After Ye Zi’an had knelt for quite a while, the crowd realized, "Isn’t that the Lord Prefect? He must be really ill, he’s barely a shadow of himself. If there’s a sea breeze, such a person might just be blown away on the streets."

Why has the Lord Prefect also knelt down? Being so ill, why doesn’t he rest at home?

"Who exactly knows how to treat this illness? If someone does, they should hurry up and treat it instead of tormenting people."

"Exactly, this isn’t a good doctor at all, what happened to ’the physician’s parental heart’? It’s nonsense!"

"Right, I have no idea which doctor thought of this cruel idea, but we won’t go to him for medical treatment in the future, let’s starve that beastly brat to death."

"Agreed!"

That’s how a gossiping crowd behaves—changing opinions as quickly as the wind changes direction, capricious and fickle.

However, some people empathized with Yang Chuxia and Ye Zi’an’s actions, as their families too had sick members.

"Lord Ye and Madam Ye, my younger brother is also afflicted with this disease. I will kneel with you, in hopes that the physician will show mercy and save the people of Shandong."

"Yes, we’ll kneel with you. If begging on our knees can prompt the doctor to treat the illness, what does sacrificing our ’knees of gold’ matter?"

"Exactly, if Lord Ye can kneel, why can’t we? Lord Ye isn’t just kneeling for himself; he’s kneeling for the lives of so many people in Shandong."

And thus, such a moving sight unfolded on the streets of Shandong Prefecture City.

Nearly thousands upon thousands of people knelt along East Main Street, with Yang Chuxia and Ye Zi’an in the center, sharing a smile.

Time passed quietly, and finally, two hours went by.

Ye Zi’an helped Yang Chuxia to her feet. "How are you feeling?"

"How about you?"

They asked each other simultaneously.

"I’m okay," Yang Chuxia said with a smile, "and you, do you feel okay?"

"I’m okay, too," Ye Zi’an replied, taking her hand, "let’s go home."

The journey home was made in silence. Yang Chuxia thought Ye Zi’an might be upset with her for keeping things from him, but when they arrived home, Ye Zi’an acted as if nothing was amiss, quietly instructing the servants to prepare food for her and to get some ointment ready.

Once in the inner chamber, he lifted the hem of her trousers and saw her knees were bright red. He gently massaged them, then glanced at his own hands so thin they resembled chicken claws and said awkwardly, "Seems I’ve gotten too skinny, even massaging is bony and uncomfortable."

"I’m fine, it doesn’t hurt. It was just kneeling for a while," Yang Chuxia pulled him up, "but for you, having your bones directly against the ground must have been very painful."

With no flesh on his legs to cushion them, kneeling like that surely wasn’t comfortable.

"I didn’t feel pain either," Ye Zi’an said nonchalantly. When Mingcui brought the ointment, he applied a dab on Yang Chuxia’s knees and sighed, "You have to remember to be gentle with yourself. A woman should be delicate and let a man protect and cherish her. But I fear I might not be able to do that, so you must remember to pamper yourself, to be good to yourself. Understand?"