Volume One, Chapter Fifteen: I Am Frail and Weak

Qin Songting’s words left everyone present momentarily stunned, even Gu Shuya, who had remained silent until then, showed some surprise.

Had the assassin from last night been caught so quickly?

“If he’s caught, just let Wei Qian handle it. Why have Awan go to the command post?” Qin Songting said. “That place is full of big men; what if Song Xianwan gets frightened again?”

Hearing this, a trace of helplessness flickered across Qin Songting’s face, but he quickly composed himself.

“If my cousin doesn’t go, how can we identify the assassin?”

If it weren’t for Old Madam Qin showing up at Liuting Courtyard last night and ordering him to find Wei Qian to investigate, he wouldn’t have bothered. Somehow, ever since he spoke to Song Xianwan, she had been like a ghost clinging to him everywhere.

Everything seemed to revolve around her.

Thinking this, Qin Songting’s gaze sharpened as he looked at Song Xianwan.

Seeing his eyes, Song Xianwan, who had been watching him intently, shrank back fearfully behind Old Madam Qin.

“Why are you scaring her?” Old Madam Qin said to Qin Songting, noticing Song Xianwan’s fear. She had clearly seen the look in his eyes.

“Grandmother, I’m willing to go with cousin to the Capital Guard Command Post,” Song Xianwan said, gently tugging at Old Madam Qin’s sleeve. Her voice trembled slightly but was firm.

Watching this, Qin Songting finally understood why Old Madam Qin was so fond of Song Xianwan.

This woman was truly adept at playing the pitiful role.

“Then have Nurse Kang accompany her,” Old Madam Qin said. She knew that to identify the assassin, only Song Xianwan could do it. Since she was the one who had been attacked and the only witness, it had to be her. Yet, Old Madam Qin was worried about her, afraid she might be frightened by all those rough men there.

With Nurse Kang accompanying her, Song Xianwan would be protected.

“It’s alright, Grandmother. Cousin is here,” Song Xianwan said softly, her gentle voice soothing to the heart.

One might think she was utterly dependent on Qin Songting. Hearing this, Qin Songting himself wanted to laugh. Wasn’t he supposed to be more intimidating than anyone else?

Old Madam Qin’s eyes still held concern. With a sigh, she looked at Qin Songting: “If anything happens to Awan, you will be responsible.”

After saying this, she allowed Song Xianwan to proceed.

Qin Songting didn’t respond and turned to leave. After bowing, Song Xianwan hurried to follow him.

“Though Songting looks cold, his heart is warm,” Second Madam Mingru said aloud. It was a pity that his reputation would never improve now that he was linked with eunuchs.

“You should all leave first. As for the Fifth Master’s wife, now that the assassin has been caught, I don’t want to hear any gossip in the mansion,” Old Madam Qin said firmly. “Awan is also a lady of the Hou family.”

Raising her eyes toward Gu Shuya, who sat nearby, she issued a subtle warning. She feared someone might exploit this incident to tarnish Song Xianwan’s reputation.

But since Song Xianwan was also a Hou family daughter, what affected her would affect the entire family—both honor and disgrace were shared. If her reputation suffered, so would the other ladies of the Hou family, including Gu Shuya’s daughter.

“Mother is right. I will instruct the servants to keep their mouths shut,” Gu Shuya replied, standing up. Old Madam Qin waved them off.

After leaving Jinghe Garden, Gu Shuya watched Mingru and Liu Jing leave together. Remembering Old Madam Qin’s warning, her eyes darkened.

She could no longer keep Song Xianwan there. She had to leave the Hou mansion by any means necessary.

On the carriage, Qin Songting sat quietly, his hand propping his chin as he closed his eyes to rest. Song Xianwan sat beside him, lips pressed together in silence.

Clutching a handkerchief, she secretly glanced at Qin Songting.

Heavens truly favored him, bestowing upon him a face that incited both divine and mortal wrath.

No wonder the mansion’s maids said that serving the eldest young master for just one night was worth dying for.

“The assassin said you nearly killed him last night,” Qin Songting’s eyes suddenly opened. Song Xianwan hastily withdrew her gaze, flustered.

“Does cousin believe that?” she asked instead of answering.

She then coughed softly into her handkerchief, playing up her frail appearance.

Qin Songting smirked, watching her with great amusement.

His gaze was as unabashed as ever, leaving her nowhere to hide.

“As the Minister of Justice, I’ve seen many suspects. I wouldn’t dare lie to you,” he said.

“Besides, if I had truly managed to kill the assassin, how could he have escaped?” Song Xianwan met Qin Songting’s eyes calmly and confidently.

His insight was keen; any sign of weakness would be noticed.

“I’m just teasing you. I never even saw the assassin,” Qin Songting said, propping his chin on his hand, his eyes gleaming with a subtle, unreadable smile.

He was deceiving her again.

Lowering her gaze, Song Xianwan feigned grievance. “Why do you always have to tease me, cousin?”

“Well then, cousin, why don’t you tell me how you got that callus on your hand?” he challenged.

His hand reached out so swiftly that Song Xianwan barely had time to react.

Qin Songting never cared about proprieties between men and women, so she never anticipated his moves.

Her fair hand was firmly grasped by him, his slender fingers pressing on the notch between her thumb and forefinger, tracing downward along the lines into her palm.

Song Xianwan tried to pull away, but he lowered his eyes and said, “How could someone as weak as you handle a knife?”

Though the callus on her hand was now so thin it was nearly imperceptible, Qin Songting, trained in martial arts and familiar with weapons, immediately noticed.

He enjoyed watching her flustered composure, like a skillful prey finally meeting its natural predator.

“Do you think I’m lying?” Song Xianwan frowned, unable to free her hand. If he kept questioning, who knew what he might uncover.

Thinking quickly, she leaned against Qin Songting, grabbing his collar.

At that moment, the carriage jolted, giving her action a plausible excuse.

Qin Songting released her hand, but she clung to his collar, unwilling to let go.

“You said I’m frail, yet now you suspect I know martial arts. I’m truly wronged,” she said with a hint of playful reproach, pouting. As she let go, she gave him a gentle push.

Her swirling sleeve brushed against him, releasing a delicate fragrance unique to a young woman.

Amid the scent and fluttering shadows, as she turned her head, a tassel hairpin brushed his ear with a light yet teasing touch.

Song Xianwan’s heart quickened. She heard the subtle movement in his throat.

Then Qin Songting asked, “What perfume are you wearing?”

She looked at him blankly, seemingly not understanding the sudden question.

“It’s overpowering,” the man frowned, displeasure genuine and not feigned. Then he stepped down from the carriage.

The cold wind outside instantly cleared his slightly dazed mind.

Rubbing his temple, Qin Songting thought to himself: How could that scent resemble ylang-ylang so much?

In the smoky, willow-lined alleys of the pleasure quarters, only the courtesans would use such a fragrance.