When Cheng Jiao-niang’s carriage stopped at the gate, the long-waiting Zhou Liu-lang and Qin Shi’san hurried over.
“Where have you been again?” Zhou Liu-lang asked, watching as Cheng Jiao-niang stepped down from the carriage.
“Are you sick?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked in return.
Zhou Liu-lang glared.
“You’re the one who’s sick!” he snapped.
Cheng Jiao-niang glanced at him.
“If you’re not sick, why are you looking for me?” she questioned.
This girl never had a proper word for him!
“It’s about your marriage, of course,” Zhou Liu-lang said irritably.
As they spoke, they had already entered the gate. Cheng Jiao-niang walked straight toward the main hall, with Qin Shi’san and Zhou Liu-lang naturally following behind.
“Sister,” Jin Ge’er said, looking at the maid and Ban Qin in surprise. “You’ve been crying?”
The maid and Ban Qin quickly wiped their tears, trying to hide them.
“What happened?” Jin Ge’er asked, astonished.
“We’ll talk later,” the maid said. “Go attend to the mistress first.”
“…My mother has already agreed. Soon, someone will be sent to Jiang-zhou…” Qin Shi’san said. “…We couldn’t find a suitable candidate right away, so we’ll use mine for now… At the very least, it’ll delay your family’s marriage arrangement with the Wangs.”
“…Don’t worry, my father has also agreed,” Zhou Liu-lang said stiffly.
“Does your family have a suitable match?” Qin Shi’san asked with a smile. “Don’t tell me it’s you again?”
“What’s wrong with me?” Zhou Liu-lang gritted his teeth. “Anyway, as you said, the priority is to stall for now.”
As he spoke, his sidelong glance drifted toward the young lady.
Since entering, she had remained silent, now reclining against an armrest—unlike her usual poised and upright posture.
Perhaps this was the kind of ease she only showed around those she trusted.
Was she relaxed because she felt someone was helping her, thinking of her…?
The maid brought over tea, blocking Zhou Liu-lang’s line of sight.
“…I’ve already considered several suitable families,” Qin Shi’san said. “When arranging marriages for my sisters, we’ve vetted many candidates…”
“…What kind of people would agree to marry into your family? Do you think they’d listen to you as obediently as your mother does?” Zhou Liu-lang scoffed.
“…They may not heed me as readily as my mother, but that’s only because they don’t see me as worth the trouble. But the lady is different—she is worthy of their respect.”
Zhou Liu-lang let out a derisive snort.
“Fine words won’t get you anywhere,” he said.
“I’ve also thought of something else—once we’ve shortlisted the candidates, would you like to review them first?” Qin Shi’san asked.
Cheng Jiao-niang suddenly straightened her posture.
“Ban Qin,” she called.
The maid, who had just served tea and stepped aside, promptly responded.
“Have Ban Qin bring some pastries,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
Tai Ping Residence’s tea snacks, Tai Ping Residence’s plaque, and Tai Ping tofu—these were the three treasures people now associated with Tai Ping Residence.
To outsiders, the origins of these treasures were distinct: a hired skilled chef, a tofu-making Daoist priest they had taken in, and a sought-after scholar’s calligraphy.
But Qin Shi’san and Zhou Liu-lang knew that all three treasures actually came from the same person.
Though they had visited several times, tea was always served—yet this was the first time they were offered the pastries.
“Thank you,” Qin Shi’san said with a smile.
The maid acknowledged the order and withdrew.
“…I understand your meaning—let the Cheng family make their selections first, and then you will make the final choice,” Qin Shi’san continued.
Cheng Jiao-niang shook her head.
“No,” she said. “The reason I let them choose is precisely to avoid unnecessary trouble. Such trivial matters are not worth my attention.”
“How can this be considered trivial?” Zhou Liu-lang frowned. “It’s a lifelong matter.”
“For you, it may be a lifelong matter,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
Zhou Liu-lang frowned and was about to speak when Ban Qin entered with the pastries.
“The pastries pair best with tea,” Qin Shi’san remarked, reaching out his hand.
“Pack them up,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
Ban Qin froze for a moment, and Qin Shi’san also paused his movement.
“Pack them up to take away,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, looking at the two men. “I have other matters to attend to and won’t be keeping you company any longer.”
Qin Shi’san withdrew his hand, gazing at Cheng Jiao-niang with a thoughtful expression.
“Cheng Jiao-niang, who’s playing whom here?!” Zhou Liu-lang snapped, glaring at her.
“Isn’t that clear enough in your own minds?” Cheng Jiao-niang replied, looking at him. “Alright, off you go. I have things to do—you two should head back.”
She gestured toward the pastries Ban Qin had already wrapped.
“Take these with you as a snack. I appreciate the thought, but go play somewhere else,” she said.
Qin Shi’san and Zhou Liu-lang stared at her in stunned silence, then at the pastries being handed to them.
“There, there… take some sweets and go play…”
“Good, good, such good children…”
It was as if they had been transported back to childhood, when adults would laughingly shoo them away with a handful of candies.
For a moment, they stood there, awkward and at a loss, a wave of humiliation surging from their feet to the tops of their heads, flushing their faces red.
He’d said it before—this girl had the sharpest tongue!
The gate slammed shut with a bang.
“Marry whoever the hell you want, then!” Zhou Liu-lang roared.
Qin Shi’san chuckled.
“She was always free to marry whomever she pleased,” he said. “It was us who wanted something from her, not the other way around.”
Zhou Liu-lang whipped his head around to glare at him—then noticed the box of pastries still in his hand and grew even angrier.
“You actually took them?!” he snapped, reaching out to snatch it.
Qin Shi’san swiftly sidestepped.
“You refused yours—don’t go stealing mine,” he retorted.
Zhou Liu-lang swung a punch at him.
“You actually feel good after being toyed with like that?!” he barked.
Qin Shi’san smiled, carefully holding onto the pastry box.
“Actually, it’s not that she played us—we played ourselves,” he said, turning to walk away. “She once said that when an illness is cured, people change. It’s been so long now; it’s time for me to return to normal too.”
“Weren’t we just trying to help her…?” Zhou Liu-lang muttered.
“Whether you were or not, I can’t say,” Qin Shi’san paused and looked back. “But I wasn’t. I met her, benefited from her, thought I knew her well, believed I was her friend, assumed I should help her—and that I even could help her. And if I succeeded, I’d earn her gratitude and affection. So in truth, I wasn’t helping her—I was helping myself, feeding my own delusion of indebtedness. I used to mock people for being self-righteously sentimental. Who’d have thought that now that I’m cured, now that I’m ‘normal,’ I’d fall into the same trap?”
Zhou Liu-lang halted and stared at him.
Qin Shi’san exhaled, tossing the pastry box lightly in his hand before gripping it firmly again.
“Alright, admitting that I mean nothing in her eyes is harsh, but I can’t keep acting like a child, clinging and making a scene,” he said with a faint smile. “I’m off.”
Watching as Qin Shi’san indeed boarded his carriage at a leisurely pace, drew the curtain, and rode away with the creaking of wheels, Zhou Liu-lang remained rooted in place.
He glanced back at the tightly shut gate, then whistled sharply. His horse, which had been nibbling at a willow tree nearby, trotted over at once.
Time to go.
Zhou Liu-lang swung onto the saddle and urged his horse into a gallop, vanishing down the road.
The hall in Cheng Jia-oniang’s residence was as quiet as usual. The maid and Ban Qin carefully cleared the tea set and plates before retreating to the corridor, where they sat in a daze.
“What on earth happened?”
Jin Ge’er, who had long grown impatient, hurried over and asked in a hushed voice.
The question only made Ban Qin’s tears fall again.
“The young masters have been arrested,” she said.
Jin Ge’er was shocked.
“Why?” he exclaimed.
“Because they’re deserters,” the maid replied. “They’ve already been thrown into prison.”
To Jin Ge’er, prison was a terrifying place. The last time Xu Mao Xiu and the others had emerged from jail, their injuries had been horrifying to see—and that was with Qin Shi’san pulling strings to protect them.
“Then—just now, Young Master Qin was here! Did the mistress forget to ask for his help?” Jin Ge’er suddenly exclaimed, as if struck by a realization.
The maid and Ban Qin exchanged a glance.
Throughout the journey, Cheng Jiao-niang had remained silent. When they arrived at Immortal’s Abode, she had only asked Manager Wu about the details of Xu Maoxiu’s arrest.
“Actually, this matter isn’t that serious,” the maid said. “It’s not like they committed murder or arson. Besides, it happened so far away—it’s not as if they deserted on the battlefield. The young masters aren’t high-ranking officials or famous generals, just ordinary soldiers who got into a fight and fled. It’s not worth the court’s attention. Once someone puts in a word and pulls a few strings, everything will be fine.”
Ban Qin and Jin Ge’er stared at her.
“Really?” they asked in unison, their voices tinged with hope.
The maid nodded.
“Really,” she said. “This matter is so minor that Zhou Liu-lang alone could handle it. It’s nothing compared to the affair with Secretariat Editor Liu…”
Before she could finish, Cheng Jiao-niang’s voice came from inside the room.
“See? Miss has already figured out a plan,” the maid whispered, rising to enter.
Ban Qin and Jin Ge’er quickly stationed themselves by the door, waiting.
“You go out for a trip,” Cheng Jiao-niang instructed.
“Yes,” the maid responded. “Should I go directly to your uncle, or should I speak with Sixth Young Master first?”
“I will go see my uncle myself,” Cheng Jiao-niang said. “As for you—go check whether Old Master Zhang has returned yet.”
Even Old Master Zhang needs to be involved?
The maid’s eyes widened instantly, and she straightened from her kneeling position.
Has it really come to the point where Old Master Zhang’s intervention is necessary?
In the past, no matter how difficult the situation, Cheng Jiao-niang had never suggested seeking out Old Master Zhang. Yet now, for such a seemingly minor matter of desertion, she was actually considering bringing him into it?
Does that mean… this matter isn’t as simple as it seemed?
