Chapter 12: Playing Tricks

After giving the instructions, Mu Yi took Shen Ruoxi to her courtyard without the slightest concern for whether Song Qiao’s condition was suitable for the cold wind.

Under the eaves, Song Qiao could only clutch her lantern and, with Pei’er at her side, muster the courage to search in the pitch-black darkness.

A jade pendant—not too big, yet not small either—was difficult enough to find in broad daylight, let alone in a night so dark that one couldn’t see their own hand.

Having missed her medicine time, Song Qiao’s legs soon began to ache faintly again. Pei’er supported her as they searched for nearly an hour, sweating profusely from the effort, but there was no sign of progress.

The servants Mu Yi had left behind, seeing this, refused to help. Some watched coldly from the sidelines, others lazily shirked their duties, all adopting an indifferent attitude as though the matter did not concern them.

Everyone knew the young mistress was out of favor; the marquis lord was clearly making things difficult for her. They were all waiting to see her fail.

Yet just as their guard lowered, the unexpected happened.

Pei’er suddenly cried out in alarm. Looking up, they saw Song Qiao collapse unconscious right before everyone’s eyes.

——

Inside the brightly lit chamber, Pei’er stayed by the bedside without leaving.

Song Qiao’s body had always been fragile. After the fall, even after being carried back for quite some time, her eyes remained tightly shut, as if she might never awaken.

“Are you all satisfied now?” Pei’er demanded as she sent the doctor away first, taking the initiative.

The servants, caught off guard, panicked and began shirking responsibility. “Heaven knows, the marquis ordered us to watch the young mistress and find the jade pendant. It was never our intention to make things hard for her…”

“Then why are you still standing here? Didn’t you hear the doctor say the young mistress needs rest?” Pei’er’s tone was sharp. “Or do you want to wait until she wakes up to force her to keep searching?”

Immediately, they scattered like frightened birds and slipped out of the room.

The master might make things difficult for the young mistress, but if these servants treated trivial matters as orders, they would surely suffer for it.

At the sound of the door closing, Song Qiao slowly opened her eyes. Her gaze was clear, showing no trace of unconsciousness.

“Everyone’s gone?” she asked, pushing herself up.

Pei’er’s stern expression softened as she gave her a thumbs-up. “The young mistress is clever for coming up with that plan. Otherwise, in this freezing cold, we might have frozen solid outside and never made it back.”

Song Qiao exhaled deeply, with a plan in mind and contingencies prepared—there was no way she would let Mu Yi make things so difficult that it would be her undoing.

“Where is this place?” she asked.

After drinking more than half a bowl of ginger soup, Song Qiao finally had the strength to look around the room, which was decorated in a style quite different from usual.

Though simple in arrangement, every item—from the screen to the teacups—was valuable, clearly no ordinary dwelling.

“This is the marquis lord’s main courtyard. It was urgent at the time, so you were brought here nearby,” Pei’er explained matter-of-factly.

Song Qiao almost spat out her soup. How was this any different from sending a sheep into the wolf’s den?

She struggled to get out of bed. “Help me put on my shoes quickly. Let’s go back at once.”

“Go where?”

The heavy curtain was suddenly lifted, and Mu Yi’s voice, cold as the night air outside, came without warning.

Pei’er was stunned. It was nearly the middle of the night—how could the marquis lord have returned so suddenly?

His gaze, however, was fixed on Song Qiao as if appraising an object, scrutinizing her from head to toe.

After confirming she was unharmed, he sneered, “You want wages for doing chores? You really are precious.”

He had come quickly, dressed impeccably, giving Song Qiao the uneasy impression that he had not slept at all.

Ignoring his sarcasm, she reached into her sleeve and produced a jade pendant. “Is this the marquis lord’s lost item?”

Mu Yi narrowed his eyes, seemingly surprised she had actually found it. But soon he averted his gaze, indifferent. “Consider it a reward.”

“No merit, no reward. Especially for something bestowed by the emperor. The marquis lord should keep it himself,” Song Qiao said respectfully, placing the pendant beside him as if paying homage.

Seeing this, Mu Yi paused briefly, then with a half-smile revealed a truth.

“Actually, Ruoxi, you’re mistaken. This jade pendant isn’t an imperial gift at all. It’s just a trinket given by a friend.”