The maid could even hear the low sound of breathing outside the door, and it seemed there were faint murmurs of blades in the corners of the walls.
Without anyone noticing, someone had appeared next door to them — their origins mysterious, their movements unpredictable. In the capital, there were many ways to make a person disappear, especially when a courtyard housed only three ladies and a frail young servant.
A fire, or a rain of arrows.
And what if they investigated afterward? What if they caught the culprit?
Even with the Zhou family and the skills to bring the dead back to life, the mistress herself was just an orphan girl — if she died, she simply died.
This was probably why the mistress had always kept such a low profile.
Hard times, as they say.
In that instant, the maid’s heart churned with turmoil, yet Cheng Jiao-niang remained calm.
“The book says,” she said, looking toward Duke Jin’an, “that at that time, there shouldn’t have been a wolf pack hunting along the highway at midnight, let alone attacking people and carriages.”
The book says?
The maid couldn’t help but glance at Cheng Jiao-niang.
She was certain that her mistress had nothing to do with the wolf attack — could it really have come from something she read in a book?
But even if that were the truth, who would believe it if it got out?
The trouble was, the mistress was far too mischievous. Even if she had seen through the matter, how could she just blurt it out like that?
They were mere strangers passing by, no past ties, no kinship — whether they lived or died, what did it have to do with her? Just one unnecessary sentence, and now they were entangled in another family’s secrets.
Or maybe… Miss was simply too kind-hearted.
The maid’s expression softened with a touch of sorrow — but in this world, kind-hearted people never seemed to live long.
“Oh, right,” the boy on the wall chimed in right after, his voice carrying a hint of delight.
Delight?
The maid couldn’t help but lift her head.
“That was the official highway. Wolves are clever — they’ve long since learned it’s not a place to hunt, and they rarely linger on the main road. Unless their instincts override their learned habits,” the young man said, his expression alight with excitement, growing more radiant by the moment, as if he’d forgotten he was still perched on the wall. He raised a hand to gesture, “…Later, I investigated. It turned out to be blood — the culprit used horse blood to lure them. We were traveling by night, and the darkness masked it, so we didn’t notice.”
The maid was stunned. She felt like she’d heard something — and yet, nothing at all. She simply stared blankly up at the boy on the wall.
The youth leaned an arm on the top of the wall and looked at Cheng Jiao-niang.
“I read it in The Records of the Secret Grove Study. Which book did you see it in?” he asked with a hint of curiosity.
What book?
He was asking what book she’d read?
The maid felt a ringing in her ears and a dizzy haze clouding her vision.
“The Chronicle of Great Zhou’s Prosperity.”
“…Oh? There’s such a book? I’ll look for it when I get back. You should read The Records of the Secret Grove Study too — it’s really good and quite interesting…”
She could hear the two of them speaking, question and answer — every word made sense, yet it all felt distant and near at once, like a dream and reality overlapping.
“Ban Qin.”
Someone called out and gave her a gentle push.
The maid snapped back to her senses with a start.
It was a bright summer day. In the courtyard, bamboo water pipes made a soft tinkling sound. The walltop was now empty.
She quickly turned and saw Cheng Jiao-niang already seated inside the room, with Ban Qin handing her a bowl of warm water.
“…Shall we make some cold noodles to eat?”
They were speaking softly.
“Ban Qin, what are you daydreaming about?” Jin Ge’er asked, rubbing his nose with a grin. “I’ve never seen you space out before.”
The maid shot him a glare.
“Where… where did that person go?” she asked, glancing up at the wall again.
Was it a dream?
“He left,” Jin-ge’er replied casually, holding up his bow and arrow. With a swoosh, he fired an arrow toward the corner of the wall.
The bamboo arrow wobbled and fell into a clump of green bamboo.
“Stop fooling around. The firewood in the back courtyard still needs splitting,” the maid scolded, frowning sternly.
Jin Ge’er turned back, pouting, then ran off with his bow and arrows, stomping noisily as he went.
Only then did the maid turn toward the main hall. But she couldn’t help glancing back at the top of the wall again.
Was that… it?
That was all?
And they believed it just like that?
How was that possible? Was this some kind of joke?
From a book? Who would believe that?!
He—he must be up to something! There’s no way he isn’t!
This place is too dangerous. They needed to find a way to get out, and fast.
The maid stepped up onto the veranda.
But then again… her mistress was such a clever person — did she really need a reminder?
She thought back to Jiang-zhou, when the old master had sent her to the Cheng family. Someone had pulled her aside in private and told her the lady was a fool — ask around the streets of Jiang-zhou, even the little kids knew that the wealthy and powerful Cheng family had raised a simpleton.
But then she’d met that maid named Ban Qin, and that girl had told her — she’s not a fool.
Fool or not, other people’s words couldn’t be trusted. She had to see for herself.
And after more than six months of watching, whatever the lady may have been before, the so-called “fool of Jiang-zhou” she now served — truly wasn’t foolish.
If anything, she thought, it was great wisdom in disguise.
It felt as if someone gently tapped her arm.
“Don’t be afraid. Just do as Miss says, and there’s nothing to fear.”
The maid turned her head slightly and seemed to see that other girl also named Ban Qin — the one now serving Old Master Zhang — smiling at her.
Yes, following Miss and listening to her… there really was nothing to be afraid of.
People could be killed — and once killed, that was that. So what?
Miss was kind-hearted, but she was by no means soft-hearted.
Lifting her skirt, the maid slowed her steps and entered the hall.
“…Didn’t we still have a quail at home? How about making that quail soup we had last time?” she asked with a cheerful smile.
“It’s too rich — why not pan-fry it instead?” Ban Qin turned back and smiled at her.
Duke Jin’an stepped briskly into the hall.
“At least this matter was handled thoroughly and in secret,” the attendant following behind him said in a low voice, wiping sweat from his brow. “Your Highness, please don’t take such risks again.”
“I was merely returning a favor — what’s there to be afraid of?” Duke Jin’an replied with a laugh. “It’s not like I live at that residence day in and day out.”
“As long as Your Highness sees it that way,” the attendant quickly said. “Once you leave the palace next year, you can go wherever you wish. But for now, it’s simply too dangerous to go out.”
Duke Jin’an sat down. The smile on his face vanished, replaced by a chilling coldness.
“Maybe someone thinks I won’t live that long,” he said quietly.
The atmosphere in the room turned heavy.
“Your Highness, we won’t make the same mistake as last time,” the attendant said in a low voice.
“No matter,” Duke Jin’an replied. “Even with the slip-up last time, I’m still alive and well.”
He straightened his posture, lifting his chin slightly, exuding an air of pride and cold sharpness — nothing like the warm, easygoing image he usually showed in public.
“My life,” he said, “is simply better than theirs. Look — even after such a colossal mistake, the heavens still sent someone to patch it up for me.”
He thought of that lady — so bold, daring to wave him over, drawing so close, speaking softly to a stranger like him:
“Last night, the wolves… they were attracted here by human,” she had whispered.
The corners of Duke Jin’an’s mouth lifted slightly, the coldness on his face melting away.
“Your Highness, that lady’s words… can they be trusted?” the attendant asked quietly from the side.
“They can,” Duke Jin’an answered without hesitation.
Why?
She read it in a book? It was written in a book? That simple?
“Your Highness, I’ll go look for The Chronicle of Great Zhou’s Prosperity,” the attendant said quietly.
“No need,” Duke Jin’an replied. “She didn’t lie to me.”
Why was he so sure?
The attendant looked at Duke Jin’an, silently wondering.
“Because,” Duke Jin’an said, breaking into a smile again, “saving someone feels way better than lying to them.”
The attendant was dumbfounded.
What kind of logic was that?
“Oh right, who did you say she was?” Duke Jin’an asked.
At that, the attendant let out another sigh.
They had, of course, looked into her background. But the duke hadn’t even waited to hear the full report before rushing off to meet her, saying all that should and shouldn’t be said.
Acting so recklessly—was he treating himself like a fool, or treating her like one?
Still… he had guessed right in the end.
“Your Highness, that young lady… she’s known in Jiang-zhou as a fool,” the attendant said, bowing his head.
There was no one outside the palace hall, but discreet guards stood around, ensuring that the quiet conversation inside could not be overheard.
There wasn’t much to say about the so-called ‘fool from Jiang-zhou.’ The first fourteen years of her life were a blank, and the attendant summarized them in just a few words.
“Her story has no twists or hidden secrets. It’s all out in the open, completely exposed—common gossip on the streets. Everyone knows it,” he said softly. “But what’s strange is how her condition improved. She herself is… odd. According to the Chen family’s inquiries, she did indeed encounter something—or someone. Not a deity, it seems, but likely a reclusive master. The Chens may have already picked up the trail and are trying to find this person. Your Highness, should we look into it as well?”
Duke Jin’an seemed lost in thought, and the attendant had no choice but to ask again.
“Why bother, when the Chen family is already looking into it? We might as well take advantage of their findings,” the duke waved his hand dismissively, leaning against the desk, propping his head up thoughtfully. “She really is strange, isn’t she?”
He laughed again as he spoke.
“You see, she never tells lies,” he added.
The attendant gave a tight-lipped smile.
Never tell lies? How could such a person even exist? And the duke—when it came to that Cheng lady, he became a little… peculiar.
The thought flashed through his mind, and he was suddenly alarmed, as the image of that stunning lady from the Grand Mercy Hall resurfaced in his mind.
The palace had no shortage of beauties, but this one was different. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what set her apart, but something about her made you want to keep looking, to draw closer, to understand her more — yet at the same time, you didn’t dare approach too closely.
She was just a teenage girl, dressed simply in plain black, without a single ornament on her. Yet why did she shine so brightly?
The duke was already sixteen years old. At that age, other families would already be arranging marriages or preparing for betrothals.
“What’s her name?” Duke Jin’an suddenly asked.
The attendant paused, taken aback.
“Well, you’d only know her name if you had access to the family records,” he blurted out.
Duke Jin’an looked at him in surprise, and the attendant’s face flushed with awkwardness.
“What I meant was,” he quickly lowered his head, muttering to cover up, “a woman’s name is something only her family knows, and it’s not something you should inquire about rashly.”
Duke Jin’an nodded, distracted, not noticing the attendant’s discomfort.
“I understand that,” he said, “but she must have some kind of title or name, right?”
“Yes, yes,” the attendant straightened up, quickly nodding. “Her name is Cheng Jiao-niang, which was given to her by her maternal grandmother. She’s also called Jiao Jiao.”
Jiang-zhou, Cheng family.
Inside and outside the house, servants, maids, and attendants hurriedly moved about, their expressions anxious and flustered. Two young maids, holding a medicine bowl, hurried along the corridor, only to turn a corner and collide with a larger maid.
“Are you blind? Clumsy and careless!” the older maid scolded, snatching the bowl from the younger maid’s hands and turning to rush toward the door.
The paper door was pulled open halfway, and from within, the slightly anxious voice of First Madam Cheng could be heard.
“…What is it? Don’t rush. Speak properly, I will find it for you…”
“I want a painting of Jiao Jiao!”
Lying on the bed with a plaster patch stuck to his body, Seventeenth Young Master called out, feigning a weak cough.
“Aunt, if you don’t find it for me, I’ll never get better…”
