CHAPTER 247: GUEST RIGHTS REVOKED

Micah turned sharply on his heel and walked toward the living room. His eyes flicked toward where Zhou Ruyan sat. Then to Darcy, studying their expressions.

"Grandma, where are the tea leaves? I can’t find them," he called out, lying through his teeth without a hint of shame.

His goal was simple: stop Darcy from saying anything further. Especially about that night. About the wound. He had gone to great lengths to keep it hidden from his grandmother.

There was a pause. Then came Zhou Ruyan’s deadpan reply. "In the counter, in its usual canister."

Micah scratched the back of his neck, feigning confusion. "Huh? Are you sure?"

Zhou Ruyan glanced at him and sighed. She didn’t respond right away, but slowly shifted forward in her seat, leaning on her cane with a quiet grunt.

Before she could rise fully, Darcy stood up as well.

He reached out to stop her with a hand lightly pressed to the armrest. "Micah, don’t bother your grandma." His voice was gentle, but the words were not.

Both Zhou Ruyan and Micah looked at him, momentarily caught off guard.

"Hey! What do you mean by ’bother’?" Micah said, his voice high-pitched. "I’m just asking."

The corner of Darcy’s mouth twitched with mild amusement. He remembered Micah had been dead set against his family knowing he was hurt trying to help Nora. And of course, he would not tell his grandmother that. But seeing Micah jumping to interrupt him, Darcy couldn’t help but want to tease him. "I’ll come help you," he said, already walking toward the kitchen. "I’m worried anyway."

"Tsk," Micah clicked his tongue and turned his back on him. "I am capable of making tea, just so you know," he snapped.

Darcy’s footsteps stopped behind him. "Yeah? Like the time you burned your hand when you just entered the kitchen in my place? I can’t just sit still. I don’t know what will happen this time."

"Hey! That was a heroic act! I was trying to protect you," Micah huffed, half turning to face him with a glare. "Is it how you repay me?"

"If you had listened to me in the first place, you wouldn’t have burned your hand," Darcy replied matter-of-factly, not even bothering to hide his smile.

"You are a guest. What are you butting into the kitchen?" Micah grumbled, hating that he couldn’t refute Darcy’s words.

That time, Darcy had really warned him to be careful, but he had jumped forward like an idiot. Well, he knew if Darcy got hurt instead of him, the guilt would have killed him.

Darcy raised an eyebrow, casually pointing at the canister right in front of Micah. It was full of tea leaves resting on the counter. "Maybe you should change your glasses."

Micah stared at it, then back at him. "Are you calling me blind?"

"No. Air-headed would be more accurate." Darcy said with a smile.

"You!" Micah’s elbow jabbed lightly into Darcy’s side.

Darcy feigned a wince, smirking. "Didn’t you just say I’m a guest? And now you are attacking me?"

"Shut up. If my grandma wasn’t right out there, I swear..." Micah threatened, eyes narrowing.

"Oh, are you going to use your elder as an excuse?"

"Ahh! You have such a poisonous tongue. It’s frustrating," Micah said through gritted teeth.

Darcy chuckled, his eyes softening. "But really, I was worried you would burn your hand again. You seemed out of it earlier."

Micah pressed his lips together, glancing sideways at Darcy. "Thanks," he muttered, voice quieter. Then added. "But don’t bring up my injuries in front of my grandma. She doesn’t know. I don’t want her to worry needlessly."

Darcy nodded. No teasing now. "Got it."

He moved past Micah, reaching for the canister. He opened the lid gently, and the scent of dried leaves, earthy and floral, with a faint trace of roasted bitterness spread out in the kitchen.

He took a small pinch between his fingers and placed it into the teapot. Then he reached out for the kettle, checking the water temperature with practised fingers. He poured the once-boiled water in a slow, steady stream, keeping the spout low to avoid bruising the leaves. As the water hit the dry curled, the leaves danced and unfurled, releasing a gentle aroma into the air. He swirled the pot in a slow circular motion, letting the leaves steep evenly. His expression was calm, his movements fluid, methodical.

Micah leaned over the counter, squinting. "Hey, hey, do you even know how to do this?"

"I worked part-time at the tea shop. The hostess there was strict about tradition. She taught me about it. Saying brewing tea properly isn’t just about pouring water. It’s about timing, temperature, and patience. Letting the leaves speak." Darcy replied without looking up.

Micah’s expression fell. He puffed his cheeks slightly, lips pursed. So much for the one thing he thought he had over Darcy. Hah! The real young master even knew how to brew tea properly. This novel setting was really something else.

Zhou Ruyan, seated just beyond the kitchen entrance, tilted her head slightly. She couldn’t see them clearly, but she could hear bits of conversation. The tones of their voices. The teasing, the bickering. Micah sounded relaxed.

Her grandson, who had been frozen stiff, pale, and anxious a moment ago, the one who had brought Darcy here, was gone. In his place was the version she remembered. The quick-tongued, expressive, animated child who always bounced back faster than anyone expected.

Zhou Ruyan smiled, her fingers folding neatly in her lap. Micah and Darcy weren’t just friends. They had something steady between them. Something unshakable.

Whenever the truth came out, however painful it might be, Zhou Ruyan knew one thing for certain: Darcy’s reaction would not be something dreadful.

Micah wasn’t just an ordinary friend or saviour of his sister.

To Darcy, he meant something.

And maybe... just maybe... Darcy wouldn’t see Micah as an enemy.

Maybe he would see him as family when the truth finally came out.