Wang Er deliberately lingered over the word “serve,” drawing it out with relish, while his gaze roamed over Qi Fang without any shame at all.

Qi Fang’s heart clenched; she shrank back toward the inner side of the bed — but Taohong’s drugged incense had drained all the strength from her body. The moment she moved, she collapsed back helplessly, and could only watch as he drew closer and closer.

“Stay away from me…” She could hear how feeble her own voice sounded. The last thing Wang Er was going to do was listen. As the terrible thing that was about to happen loomed before her, she found herself thinking, almost involuntarily, that what Song Qingshu had done to her earlier really hadn’t been so dreadful by comparison.

Losing one’s virtue was losing one’s virtue either way — but surrendering to a man renowned throughout the world, handsome and well-formed, was a great deal more bearable than being def!led by a squalid household lackey.

“Don’t be frightened, my lady,” Wang Er said, standing at the edge of the bed, practically drooling. “This one promises to have you crying out to heaven and earth in no time at all.”

His hand was nearly on her quilt. Qi Fang could bear it no longer. “You, surnamed Song — how long are you planning to watch?”

At her words, Wang Er’s face went white. He spun to bolt for the door — but from beneath the bed planks, a sword blade shot upward and found his throat in an instant, snuffing out his life before he could take a single step.

The thrust and withdrawal were so swift that not even the blood had time to flow. Wang Er crumpled to the floor and lay still.

At the sight of a figure emerging from under the bed, Taohong let out a shriek and bolted for the door. But Song Qingshu had heard that it was she who had impersonated Qi Fang and led Di Yun to his death — his fury had been building since that moment, and now that his chance had come, he was not about to let it pass.

He flicked his wrist. The sword left his hand like a bolt of lightning through the night air and drove through her chest. Taohong staggered, kicking and struggling in agony.

Song Qingshu walked up and stood over her, his voice cold as stone. “When you were framing Di Yun back then, did you ever think a day like this would come?” He said nothing more — he had no desire to waste words on such a woman. He pulled the blade free. Taohong’s mouth overflowed with a rush of dark blood; she gave two rattling gurgles and went still.

“Brother Di,” Song Qingshu murmured to the empty air, “rest easy. Every one of the people who wronged you — I will find them all.” Then he turned to Qi Fang. “When the time comes for me to kill your husband, which side will you stand on?”

Qi Fang bit her lip, her voice hard with bitterness. “I have no husband who is so vile and ruthless.”

“Brother Di’s devotion to you was not wasted.” Song Qingshu gave a small nod. “I’ll take care of things here. Get yourself dressed.”

He gathered up the bodies of Taohong and Wang Er and vanished without a sound into the night.

When he returned, he found, to his surprise, that Qi Fang was still lying on the bed, staring up at him with wide, unblinking eyes. “Why aren’t you dressed yet?” he asked, puzzled.

“I’m drugged, you idiot. Where would I find the strength?” Qi Fang snapped.

“Right. I nearly forgot.” Song Qingshu pressed a hand to his forehead. “Let me help you.”

He walked over, helped her upright and let her lean against his chest, then picked up her clothes from beside the bed and began to dress her gently.

Qi Fang was momentarily stunned. Then her face flushed red as blood. ‘Does this man have not even the faintest sense of propriety between men and women?’ But then she thought — everything between them that should and shouldn’t have happened already had. She let out a quiet, forlorn sigh, and let him do as he wished.

Strange. She had wanted to bite this man to death not long ago. Yet after everything that had just happened, she found, somehow, that she bore him no anger at all.

Perhaps it was the contrast with Wang Er. Perhaps it was what her husband had done to her. She suddenly felt that keeping herself pure and chaste for that kind of man served absolutely no purpose — which meant there was nothing worth being angry about in what Song Qingshu had done to her earlier, either.

“What do you plan to do from here?” After finishing with her clothes, Song Qingshu thoughtfully smoothed the loose strands of hair from her face.

His gentle touch made something in Qi Fang’s chest flutter unexpectedly. But the moment she thought of the future, her expression dimmed. “I don’t know. I suppose… I’ll go back to Lin’an first and take Kongxincai away.”

Song Qingshu silently marvelled — women are creatures of feeling through and through. No matter what, they never forget their children. “Wan Qili and Wan Gui want you dead. Going back there now is walking a lamb into a tiger’s den.”

“But I can’t abandon Kongxincai.” Qi Fang bit her lip. The grief of it welled up in her eyes, and she looked close to tears.

Song Qingshu patted her gently on the shoulder. “I’ll go with you.”

“Really?” Qi Fang looked at him with sudden, startled hope. Song Qingshu’s name alone carried weight — with him at her side, the odds of getting her daughter out safely were considerably better.

Song Qingshu nodded, a cold light in his eyes. “I have a score to settle with Wan Qili and Wan Gui anyway. Might as well do it all at once.” His inner energy had not yet fully recovered, but he had found the path to purging the poison — the rest was only a matter of time.

Qi Fang’s feelings were difficult to name. This man was going after her own husband — and yet she found, searching herself, that she felt not the slightest ripple of unease.

“Wan Qili is the head of the hundred officials. He cannot afford to bear the reputation of having had his granddaughter-in-law disposed of — so the arrangement with Taohong was always done in the shadows. Now that Taohong and the others are dead, you are safe until we reach Lin’an. You can still make full use of the Minister’s household name and all the privileges that come with it in the meantime…” Song Qingshu laid it out for her plainly.

They talked a while longer. Qi Fang yawned.

Song Qingshu glanced at the moonlight through the window. “It’s late. Get some sleep — rest well, and we’ll sort the rest out tomorrow.”

“Mm.” Qi Fang answered softly. Her ears began to burn, unbidden. ‘Why does he sound like a husband of many years telling his wife to go to bed? He doesn’t mean to get into bed himself, does he?’

She lay down and squeezed her eyes shut, but kept her ears pricked for every sound in the room. She heard, or thought she heard, the rustle of him undressing. And then a warm, solid body slipped under the quilt beside her.

‘He really got into bed!’

Qi Fang’s body gave a small tremor. She hesitated for a long moment, then decided she ought to at least make her position known. “Are you… are you sleeping in the bed too?”

“Sleeping on the floor is uncomfortable,” Song Qingshu said, with a pause and a half-smile. “Does my lady object?”

“No… no.” What could I possibly say? Her bond with her husband was severed — there was no question of preserving herself for his sake any longer. And she would be relying on this man to help bring her daughter to safety…

“Then sleep,” Song Qingshu said with easy familiarity, and his arm moved quite naturally to draw the young w0man beside him into his embrace.

Qi Fang’s b0dy trembled, but she did not protest aloud.

He had been together with Qi Fang before, yes — but that had happened in a state of unawareness. Now, holding her in full wakefulness, he felt every soft and rounded inch of her pressed against him, and there was a faint, warm scent drifting from her skin — sweet and milk-soft — that was extraordinarily pleasant to breathe in. Song Qingshu felt his thoughts beginning to stray in directions that were difficult to rein back.

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