Young Master Qin paused his writing upon hearing the news.
“What?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “Liu-lang went to snatch her?”
The servant nodded in confirmation.
“The whole street is in chaos,” he said, his expression indescribably odd, caught between wanting to laugh and holding it back.
“This rascal. I thought he had come up with some clever solution, but it turned out to be this,” Young Master Qin shook his head, his expression turning serious. “No, no. This is adding fuel to the fire.”
Then he looked at the servant.
“Has she returned to the Zhou family?” he asked, setting down his brush.
“Not yet. They’re still on the street,” the servant replied, finally unable to suppress his laughter. “The Chen family is in pursuit, and the commotion has gotten the City Watch involved.”
The Imperial Street was already bustling with people, but now it was so crowded that not even a drop of water could pass through. Those who arrived later couldn’t push their way in and were left anxiously craning their necks, their frustration mixing with bursts of laughter, curses, and chatter, creating a lively cacophony.
One of the city guards wiped the sweat from his brow, glancing at the people and carts in front of him.
“So, you’re saying he stole your carriage?” he asked, pointing at Zhou Liu-lang.
The steward and servants of the Chen family exchanged a glance before nodding heavily in agreement.
It was the simplest and most convenient explanation. Far better than claiming he had abducted his own cousin—a preposterous and laughable excuse that could easily lead to undesirable speculation.
“Young Master Zhou, stealing your carriage?” The city guard repeated, his expression odd.
Zhou Liu-lang remained seated on the carriage, showing no intention of getting down even though they had been stopped. Inside the carriage, it was eerily quiet, as if no one were there at all.
“There’s no need to ask any further. This is our carriage,” the Chen family steward insisted, pointing at the emblem on the carriage. “Look at this—it’s ours, absolutely ours!”
The servants pointed at Zhou Liu-lang.
“He’s not one of ours! He’s not one of ours!” they shouted.
The guards exchanged glances, smiling bitterly.
Working in the capital was never easy. Any minor incident inevitably involved prominent families, big or small.
A carriage belonging to the Minister of Personnel’s household being “stolen” by someone from the household of a Guide General—what kind of absurd situation was this!
“Did he steal the carriage or the person?”
“There’s someone in the carriage, isn’t there?”
Shouts from the idlers on the street rang out, followed by bursts of strange laughter.
Exactly. What was there to steal about a mere carriage? Even the guards couldn’t help but glance subtly at the carriage.
Sure enough, suspicions were beginning to arise. The Chen family members grew anxious—this was precisely what they feared!
Suddenly, a hand lifted the carriage curtain, startling everyone.
As expected, it was a delicate, jade-like hand.
“Apologies,” said a maid, her tone composed. “Thank you, Master Chen. The carriage will definitely be returned.”
The Chen family members sighed in relief upon hearing this.
After chasing for so long, they had truly been at a loss about what to do. At least their efforts weren’t in vain—this young lady clearly understood the master’s intentions.
The master knew the lady was unwilling to go to the Zhou family. Thus, when Young Master Zhou stirred up trouble by snatching the carriage, the master didn’t bother maintaining appearances or using excuses like “it’s a family matter, and outsiders shouldn’t interfere.” Instead, he pursued them directly.
Still, that was the extent of what they could do. Bloodlines held paramount importance—outsiders truly couldn’t interfere.
“I’m just here to take my cousin home. What’s the big deal about borrowing your carriage? How petty,” Zhou Liu-lang, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke with a snort.
Though it was clear there was more to the story, the current drama couldn’t continue any longer. The onlookers, disappointed, let out boos and dispersed reluctantly.
Outside the crowd, two servants, seeing the people scatter, turned around happily.
“Young Master, we can go now, we can go now,” they called out excitedly.
Behind them, a young nobleman on horseback withdrew his gaze.
“So, this is the capital,” he murmured, his face still showing the astonishment of someone seeing the bustling splendor of the city for the first time. “Even such a wide street can get so crowded that no one can move.”
The snow was falling heavier by the moment, and a gust of wind stirred up a flurry of snowflakes into the air.
The young nobleman couldn’t help but cough lightly, covering his mouth with one hand while blowing warm breath onto the other for warmth.
“Yuanchao!”
A voice called out from the street, and the young man immediately turned toward it. He saw two young men rushing out from a nearby shop, waving at him enthusiastically.
“Ha, you’ve made it too!” Han Yuanchao laughed, dismounting his horse and hurrying toward them.
“You’re a bit late. Could it be that you were reluctant to leave some warm embrace on the way?” The two teased him, patting him on the shoulder with grins. “Luckily, we booked the inn in advance and kept a room for you. Otherwise, you’d be in trouble tonight.”
Han Yuanchao quickly expressed his thanks, clasping hands with them as they walked together.
“In that case, with us fellow disciples reunited in the capital today, we must drink to our heart’s content!”
“Absolutely! There are so many famous establishments here in the capital; let’s pick one at random.”
“What was all that commotion earlier?”
“No idea, but whatever it was, it has nothing to do with us.”
Laughing and chatting, the three of them strolled off, blending into the bustling crowd.
Zhou Liu-lang reined in his horse at the second gate, where a lively commotion was already underway inside.
“Liu-lang, have you brought your sister back?”
“Jiao Jiao, my dear, you’ve finally returned!”
The Zhou couple hurried over, surrounded by a crowd of family members and servants, their faces alight with joy as they looked at the carriage.
“She is tired. Father, Mother, please let her rest first. Whatever needs to be said can wait until later,” Zhou Liu-lang said curtly, his face taut. With that, he swung his arm and strode off without looking back.
Throughout it all, the carriage remained completely silent.
The Zhou parents exchanged glances. Zhou’s father cleared his throat softly and waved his hand, signaling the onlookers—children and servants alike—to scatter immediately, lest this awkward son cause a scene.
“Jiao Jiao,” Zhou’s mother stepped forward, lifting the carriage curtain gently. “If there’s anything to say, let’s talk about it after getting out of the carriage, alright?”
The curtain lifted, revealing first a maid sitting upright, and then a figure reclining in the carriage.
Madam Zhou gasped in shock.
“Jiao-niang!” she cried out, panic gripping her. Could something have happened?
“Shh,” the maid hushed her, a hint of displeasure in her tone. “Miss is resting. Please don’t wake her.”
Resting?
Sleeping in a carriage?
Surely she’s pretending?
“You can’t sleep in a carriage. Let’s come down and rest,” Madam Zhou suggested.
“It’s fine. Miss isn’t in good health and must rest for an hour every day. She can fall asleep anywhere, and it won’t take long. If she’s woken prematurely, her body will feel terribly unwell,” the maid explained softly, shifting slightly to the side. “Madam, let’s wait until Miss wakes up. It won’t be long.”
Really? Is that true?
But according to the maids who came back with her, this young lady indeed insists on a nap during the day.
The scene grew momentarily awkward, with the sound of snow falling and softly pattering against the carriage and ground.
After standing there for just a brief moment, Madam Zhou felt her feet beginning to stiffen from the cold.
“It’s too cold here. We should wake her up and let her sleep inside,” she suggested again.
“It’s alright, I’ve prepared everything,” the maid replied quietly, pointing to the brazier inside the carriage and the large cloak covering Cheng Jiao-niang. Even her own feet were tucked under the cloak.
Madam Zhou was about to say something further when the maid hushed her again.
“There’s a draft. Let me lower the curtain,” the maid said, letting the curtain drop back into place.
Left standing outside, Madam Zhou had no choice but to swallow her words.
“Madam?” The maid holding the umbrella asked quietly.
Should we leave or stay here to keep her company? She inquired with her eyes.
Madam Zhou shot her a glare, thinking, What a clueless fool. Leave? Leave a group of maids behind to keep her company? As her aunt, wouldn’t her be the subject of gossip?
But if they wait…
Madam Zhou couldn’t help but pace back and forth.
“Go bring the hand warmer and foot warmer,” she said quietly.
Luckily, the maid wasn’t lying. Before the maid could bring the warmers over, Cheng Jiao-niang woke up.
Before the maid could speak, Madam Zhou hurriedly lifted the curtain.
“Jiao Jiao,” she called, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Where is this?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked, taking the hot water the maid handed to her.
The carriage was indeed well-equipped. Madam Zhou felt her hands and feet growing colder by the moment.
“You’ve arrived home, good child. The carriage is cold. Come down, let’s talk inside,” Madam Zhou said.
“The carriage isn’t cold,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied, glancing around her before taking a sip of the hot water.
But I’m cold.
Madam Zhou stamped her foot in frustration. This child must be a fool. How could she speak so incoherently?
This isn’t about discussing whether it’s cold or not.
“Alright, Jiao Jiao, you’ve arrived home. Let’s go inside quickly, the snow is falling so heavily,” Madam Zhou said, waving her hand to urge the maids to bring the soft sedan chair.
The maid with the hand and foot warmers arrived, and the soft sedan chair was brought as well. After some coaxing, Cheng Jiao-niang finally got out of the carriage.
She didn’t cry or cause a fuss; her expression under the hood didn’t change at all, as if she had always meant to come here, rather than being dragged halfway here.
This unexpected calm made Madam Zhou, who had prepared a lot to say, suddenly unsure of what to say.
“Jiao Jiao, let’s go inside first. We’ll talk inside,” she said, not even bothering to warm her hands, as she hurriedly placed the hand and foot warmers into the sedan chair. The maids then surrounded her as they walked toward the courtyard.
“Jiao Jiao, everything here is arranged according to your habits from the Chen family. How do you find it?” Madam Zhou said, helping her up the steps while pointing things out. “This place is closest to my courtyard, so it’s convenient for anything you need.”
Just as they were about to enter the house, two maids came in.
“Madam, the master requests your presence,” they said.
Madam Zhou smiled and patted Cheng Jiao-niang’s hand.
“Make yourself at home, don’t be so formal. I’ll go see what your uncle wants, and we’ll all come over to see you later,” she said, following the maids as she left.
Throughout this, Cheng Jiao-niang and her maids remained silent.
The maids who stayed behind quickly knelt and opened the door to the corridor.
Even standing in the corridor, they could feel the warmth coming from inside the room.
“Miss, please come in,” they said respectfully.
Just as Cheng Jiao-niang was about to step forward, she heard footsteps behind her and the startled cry of a maid.
“Sixth Young Master! What are you doing?”
Cheng Jiao-niang and her maid turned around. The maid let out a startled cry and quickly raised her hand to cover her face.
In the courtyard, Zhou Liu-lang strode forward, shirtless and carrying a bundle of thorny branches on his back. He stood still in the snow, turned around, and faced Cheng Jiao-niang with his strong back and the bundle of thorns.
“I have three wrongs and have come to ask for forgiveness from you,” he said, raising his hand in a fist and bowing. He then knelt on one knee. “First, I disregarded your fragile health and took your maid. Second, I ignored your feelings and kept you here. Third, I disregarded your helplessness and forced you to listen to my apologies.”
In the snow, the young man’s bare chest had already accumulated a layer of snowflakes. The snowflakes falling on him were melting more and more slowly.
The surrounding maids covered their mouths in trembling silence, wanting to speak but too afraid to intervene.
Cheng Jiao-niang turned around, her gaze not showing the slightest hint of embarrassment or avoidance, as it swept across the young man’s bare back.
“You had your mother sent away, just so I could see this,” she said slowly.
Zhou Liu-lang turned his back to her.
This lady was no fool; she could tell his mother had been deliberately dismissed.
“I…” He gritted his teeth and turned around, pulling out a thorn branch, holding it in front of him as if to strike, facing the lady in the corridor.
This was actually the second time he had met Cheng Jiao-niang. He thought he had forgotten what she looked like, but when he saw her now, it felt as if he had often seen her before, a strangely familiar sensation.
In the corridor, the lady, draped in a cloak and with her hood removed, stood with her hair falling around her face. Her eyes, blank and unmoving, were fixed on him—more specifically, on his bare chest.
Whether it was from the cold or something else, Zhou Liu-lang’s exposed skin began to redden.
Zhou Liu-lang had never seen a lady look at a man with such a gaze, especially not at a man with his shirt off. Unlike the maid beside him, who would cover her eyes with her hand, this lady stared openly.
Cheng Jiao-niang slowly shifted her gaze to his face.
“You…” she took over Zhou Liu-lang’s words, her hand emerging from the cloak to point a finger at him. “You’re naked. You’re… not good-looking.”
