I don’t know when it was, but when she opened her eyes, the sky was already very bright.

No alarm to wake her this morning? Or did she sleep so deeply she couldn’t hear it? Her head throbbed painfully, and her throat was so dry it felt like it might catch fire.

When did he leave? Avery Jane tightened the blanket around her, her body aching as if it had been sawed apart. She seemed to have no strength left to even rise.

Yesterday, the weather was so cold, the temperature indoors was so low, then she sweated, was exposed to the wind. Avery Jane thought she might have caught a cold, her head was slightly feverish.

She was ill.

Dragging her heavy body, she changed clothes. She still had work to do.

She had already lost all dignity here and didn’t want people whispering about her behind her back.

The reflection in the mirror was frightening, her face pale as a ghost.

Her lips dry and cracked, showing a different kind of crimson, her eyes void of spirit like a sky devoid of stars.

Like a flower deprived of nutrients, her whole being was wilting away.

The kitchen was bustling as usual, approaching noon, the vegetables had already been washed by someone.

With one person missing from work, no one was happy, but no one showed it either. She was indifferently excluded, not even given a greeting.

"Do you need me to do anything?" Avery Jane asked the elderly maid in charge of the kitchen, enduring her dry throat.

She was organizing tableware, wiping each silver utensil with a spotless cloth until it shone brightly enough to reflect a person.

"Go to the seafood pond and scoop out some shrimp, then shell them. Miss Evelyn wants fresh shrimp dumplings for lunch. It’s the right time now to shell them. Remember to shell more, for backup. Miss Evelyn has been fond of shrimp lately," replied the older maid, not even lifting her head.

She couldn’t stand the young girls these days, merely working a little, yet acting as if near death.

The net drew up lively shrimp from the oxygenated pond, each one jumping frantically. Avery Jane stood there helplessly, unsure how to shell them.

"Watch carefully."

The maid glared at Avery Jane, dissatisfied. She picked up a shrimp from the net and deftly twisted off the head—the shrimp stopped moving immediately—then extracted the black vein and peeled off the shell in one smooth motion.

After demonstrating, she turned to wash her hands and left with the cutlery.

"Let me help you." The kitchen assistant was very young, a face full of freshness and innocence.

Avery Jane truly lacked the courage to kill a living shrimp and then shell it. She gratefully smiled, and the net in her hands was taken by the assistant.

Butler Kent stood at the door and coughed; both of them jumped in surprise.

The assistant hurriedly explained, "Butler Kent, her hands are frostbitten. If she shells the shrimp, they won’t be able to touch water for days."

Butler Kent glanced at Avery Jane’s hands, indeed red, as if the delicate skin had cracked.

Avery Jane was the hardest to manage. Yesterday, the young master was in her room all night and left only when dawn was breaking.

This morning, the person upstairs summoned him to inquire, mostly about Avery Jane’s work arrangements, asking if the young master was ignoring her.

What could he say? He could only reply that under the Hughes Family’s rules, servants weren’t free to speak anyhow.

Even with his head bowed, he could sense Evelyn Yates’s face full of fury.

"Miss Jane, go back to your room and rest," said Butler Kent, looking at Avery Jane’s abnormal complexion, as if she was sick.

The young master was going on a trip for two days, so hopefully, no trouble would arise.

"Thank you,"

Avery Jane didn’t pretend otherwise because she suddenly realized she felt so awful she might faint at any moment. Her body started heating up in waves, and her head was dizzy to the point she couldn’t quite see people clearly.

Dragging her weary and aching body, Avery Jane returned to her room.

The cold wind blowing through the cracked open window made her feel worse, so she walked over to shut it tightly.

Lying back on the bed, she was obviously exhausted, yet her body ached as if being bitten by countless ants and burned on a fiery grill, torturing her. Was she going to die?