Leng Minghao stopped in his tracks upon hearing the question, his eyes wary and irritated as he glared at the other man.
“None of your business. Who I bring with me has nothing to do with you. Move aside…”
Seeing that the other man was none other than Song Ziqian, the son of the Grand General, Leng Minghao cast him a cold sidelong glance, clearly annoyed by the obstruction.
“What do you mean by this, Second Young Master? I was merely curious, yet you react so defensively. Could it be that you’ve drugged some innocent girl?”
Song Ziqian had no favorable impression of Leng Minghao, the second son of the Ji Prince’s household—a man known for his lack of talent in poetry, calligraphy, or martial arts. Yet, thanks to his influential father and elder brother, he carried himself with arrogance among the noble youths.
Initially, Song Ziqian had only intended to greet him casually, but Leng Minghao’s exaggerated reaction piqued his suspicion. Raising his thick brows slightly, Song Ziqian calmly reached for the clothing covering the face of the woman in Leng Minghao’s arms.
“Song Ziqian, don’t push your luck. Who I bring is none of your concern. If you don’t want trouble, get lost. If you keep meddling, don’t blame me for not warning you.”
Despite Leng Minghao’s obvious reluctance to engage, Song Ziqian grew bolder. Seeing him reach for the fabric concealing Wan Qing’s face, Leng Minghao panicked and acted.
He slapped away Song Ziqian’s intrusive hand and stepped back, glaring coldly as he issued a sharp warning.
“Oh? Now you’re throwing a tantrum? If you were your elder brother, the heir, I’d show some respect. But as for you—today, I *will* see who this woman is.”
Song Ziqian smirked at his anger and swiftly lunged forward.
“You—what are you doing?! Song Ziqian, how dare you—”
Leng Minghao instinctively retreated, but his skills were no match for Song Ziqian’s. In mere moments, Song Ziqian had snatched the woman from his arms and sent him tumbling down the stairs.
Struggling to his feet, Leng Minghao watched in fury as Song Ziqian held the unconscious figure. Humiliated at being treated this way despite his noble status, he bristled with indignation.
Only then did Song Ziqian realize the woman in his arms was Wan Qing—someone he would later recognize. Remembering her past kindness in saving his life, and seeing her unconscious state, he immediately blamed Leng Minghao.
With a cold expression, he descended the stairs and faced Leng Minghao, who was still seething.
“Bold? If I hadn’t intervened today, Miss Mu would have fallen victim to your schemes. If you dare lay a hand on her, you’ll regret it far worse. Were it not for your family’s status, I’d break your jaw right now for what you’ve done.”
“You—Song Ziqian, just you wait! If I don’t avenge this humiliation, I’m no gentleman!”
Leng Minghao was consumed with regret. Of all the inns in the capital, why had he chosen this one? And why did Song Ziqian have to recognize her?
As Song Ziqian carried Wan Qing away, Leng Minghao’s plans crumbled before his eyes. Gritting his teeth, he staggered forward but soon halted, panting heavily, forced to watch helplessly as Song Ziqian disappeared through the inn’s entrance.
“Hmph. If your father and brother knew what you did to Miss Mu, they’d never forgive you.”
Song Ziqian scoffed at the threats behind him. Sprinting forward, he noticed Wan Qing showed no signs of waking. Though puzzled by her state—dressed only in thin undergarments—he gently patted her cheek, calling her name.
Yet she remained unresponsive. Under the moonlight, her face was deathly pale, tinged with an eerie bluish hue. Alarmed, he quickened his pace, rushing toward the Mu residence.
Meanwhile, another figure stumbled onto the street, clutching his forehead.
“Damn it, she got away. That girl will ruin everything. Poison didn’t work—I’ll have to find another way.”
It was Liu Cuishan, the black-clad man who had abducted Wan Qing—and also the secret lover of Madam Liu. He had assumed the poison he administered would be lethal, intending to interrogate her before finishing her off. But after waiting, he realized he’d been drugged instead.
Now, he staggered out in pursuit, yet despite searching the streets near the Marquis’s residence, he found no trace of her.
Considering she had no martial skills, she couldn’t have gone far. But with no sign of her, he abandoned the chase, seething at her knowledge of poisons—and the secrets she held.
“Open up! Open the door!”
Song Ziqian, frantic over Wan Qing’s condition, pounded on the Marquis’s gate despite the late hour.
“What are you doing? You—my lady! What have you done to her?!”
Not long after Wan Qing’s disappearance, Honglian and the other maids had awakened, puzzled by their unnatural slumber. Seeing the light still on in Wan Qing’s room, Honglian entered—only to find it empty.
Noticing the strange odor and the absence of Wan Qing’s medicine pouch and outer robe, she immediately alerted the others. They searched the estate all night, only to hear someone banging at the gate.
When Honglian opened it, she saw a man holding an unconscious Wan Qing, clad only in her undergarments.
Furious, she snatched Wan Qing from his arms and glared at Song Ziqian.
“You’re lying! Honglian, seize him! We’ll deal with him after Miss wakes. Let’s get her inside first!”
Chunlan, the eldest among the maids, didn’t trust his explanation. She ordered Honglian to restrain him while the others rushed Wan Qing inside.
“You’ve got it all wrong! I found her unconscious on the street—she’s been poisoned!”
Song Ziqian protested as Honglian sealed his acupoints and forced him inside. Ignoring his pleas, the maids dragged him into Wan Qing’s courtyard.
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