I'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.

Huan Ya wasn’t thick-skinned enough; the moment their eyes met, she quickly withdrew.

Accidentally, she knocked over a nearby dustpan. Trying to avoid it, she forgot about the injury on her foot and lost her balance, falling straight to the ground.

“Ugh.”

Huan Ya hastily covered her mouth, her eyes reddening as she struggled not to make a sound. She wiped away her tears, rubbed her ankle, and after a moment, slowly got back up.

“Huan Ya,” Mrs. Song came out of the house, intending to ask her to fetch a basin of water but stopped short when she saw her covered in dirt from head to toe.

Mrs. Song furrowed her brow in surprise. “What happened to you?”

“N-nothing,” Huan Ya stammered, brushing off the dirt from her clothes with caution. “Auntie, do you need something?”

“You—never mind, I’ll go myself.” Mrs. Song stepped outside.

“I c-can help,” Huan Ya quickly offered.

Mrs. Song eyed her suspiciously, noticing the worry on Huan Ya’s face as if afraid of being dismissed, and sighed quietly.

“Then go fetch a basin of water,” she said, pointing to the water jar by the kitchen door across the yard. “The basin is there too.”

“All right.”

Huan Ya nodded, limping as she made her way across to get the water.

Seeing her limp, Mrs. Song shook her head and turned back inside.

---

The carriage driver chuckled upon seeing the scene. “I thought she couldn’t speak.”

“They said she’s sharp-tongued,” someone remarked, recalling how she had clung to his leg pleading earlier in town.

The driver smiled. “Well, I’ll be off then. If you need me, have the girl call.”

“Thank you for your trouble today, Uncle Li.”

“No need for thanks! I’m off!” The driver walked away leisurely, hands behind his back.

Mrs. Song glanced again at Huan Ya, who was moving briskly and didn’t seem to need help, before heading back inside.

Huan Ya had been strong since childhood; carrying a basin of water was no hardship for her.

Even though her hands ached terribly, she still managed to bring the water to the doorway.

Mrs. Song saw her and beckoned, “Come inside too.”

“Okay.”

Huan Ya hurried over the threshold, and Mrs. Song took the basin from her, setting it aside.

As Huan Ya turned to leave, Mrs. Song called her back.

“Sit down,” she said, grabbing a small stool for her. “Once Chengzi is stable, have the doctor take a look at you too.”

With her limping gait, they couldn’t afford another little cripple in the household.

Huan Ya shook her head, about to refuse, but Mrs. Song’s stern expression stopped her. “If you don’t get examined, you can leave.”

---

Huan Ya dared not move. She timidly sat on the small stool, barely reaching Mrs. Song’s waist, evoking an inexplicable sense of sympathy.

After a while, she couldn’t help but glance up, only to lock eyes with Song Tiancheng.

Startled, she lowered her gaze again upon seeing the man’s pale face.

The master’s son seemed gravely ill.

“Alright,” the barefoot doctor wiped sweat from his brow and shook his head. “Be more careful next time. That leg was just starting to show some color, but now it’ll need a long time to heal again.”

Song Tiancheng withdrew his gaze, looked at the wound on his leg, and nodded. “Thank you, Uncle Song.”

“Don’t mention it. You… just take good care of yourself.”

The doctor turned and glanced at Huan Ya sitting on the stool, then looked up at Mrs. Song. “She needs to be checked too?”

Mrs. Song nodded. “Check them both at once.”

The doctor nodded and gestured for Huan Ya to stretch out her hand.

Huan Ya glanced cautiously at Mrs. Song. Seeing no sign of disdain, she slowly extended her hand.