"Lord?"
Mo Yanyun was still shaken by the earlier scene of Qin Shaozong abducting someone. Seeing the moon finally emerge, he found himself too restless to sleep and decided to admire it in the courtyard.
But his moonlit reverie didn’t last long before he spotted his superior stepping out of the main house.
Mo Yanyun couldn’t hide his astonishment, mixed with a private concern he dared not voice.
After devouring such a breathtaking beauty from head to toe, savoring every last drop of her essence, there were countless things a man could do—and none of them would take so little time. Yet less than the span of a cup of tea had passed, and the lord was already leaving. Could it be…?
Qin Shaozong turned at the sound of his voice. Whether it was his imagination or not, Mo Yanyun thought his superior’s eyes gleamed with a predatory green light, just like a starving wolf that had failed its hunt on the northern grasslands.
Instinctively, Mo Yanyun’s gaze flickered downward, taking a quick, knowing glance. As a man, he could tell at once whether another had been satisfied.
Ah. So it wasn’t his imagination after all. The lord was truly left hungry—judging by the timing, he might not have even gotten a taste.
A seasoned veteran of pleasure houses, Mo Yanyun quickly ruled out other possibilities and guessed that "Feng Chun" was likely indisposed due to her monthly courses, making her unable to serve. He knew well how irritable men became in such situations. With so many dancers in the residence, if she couldn’t perform, why not summon another beauty to ease the lord’s frustration?
"Shall I select a lovely dancer for you?" he suggested.
Qin Shaozong replied, "Fine."
Mo Yanyun turned to carry out the order, but after only a few steps, his superior abruptly changed his mind.
"Never mind."
Mo Yanyun spun back in surprise. "Why not?"
Qin Shaozong’s voice was rough but noticeably calmer. "I have a plan to expedite our current affairs, and she plays a role in it. Introducing another woman now would complicate matters."
"Lord, can she truly be trusted?" Mo Yanyun couldn’t help but doubt.
Knowing Qin Shaozong as he did, if the man said she was needed, then "Feng Chun" wouldn’t merely be a background figure. A stranger with unknown allegiances—one who had already deceived the lord once—how could she be relied upon?
"She has no ties to the Jiang Mansion," Qin Shaozong said coolly. "She has a young son named Qin Yanzhou—short hair, about five feet seven inches tall. He may be in the residence. Tomorrow, take men and search discreetly. Also, investigate whether any child from the northern Qin clan has gone missing, and look into the movements of the noblewomen from their households."
Mo Yanyun was stunned by this revelation. "Lord, you suspect 'Feng Chun' is a noblewoman? How… how could that be possible?"
A noblewoman’s status was derived from her husband’s prominence—his family’s prestige and his own achievements. Such powerful families always formed alliances with equals, meaning her own lineage would be no less distinguished.
In short, a noblewoman was a pampered daughter before marriage and, after, remained fortunate enough to wed into a family—and a husband—of exceptional standing.
Qin Shaozong gave him a sidelong glance, uninterested in elaborating. "Why ask heaven, earth, and everything in between? Planning to quit as captain and become a gossipmonger in a teahouse?"
Mo Yanyun stammered a denial.
Qin Shaozong turned his gaze back to the house behind him, his eyes dark with unspoken thoughts.
Common women toiled in fields or over washbasins, their hands inevitably calloused over time. Dancers, though entertainers, were still servants—when not attending to guests, they labored like any other. Only those waited upon by maids, indulged by wealthy husbands, could keep their hands untouched by hardship.
Her hands were soft, save for a faint callus on the inner side of her right middle finger. Her skin was smooth, her body exuding a delicate floral fragrance—proof of a life coddled in luxury.
Add to that her leather shoes and the undergarment lined with small iron plates, and it was clear her husband’s family was no ordinary one.
"Feng Chun" was a false name, and so was "Song Lan," but Qin Shaozong sensed her desperation to find her son was genuine. Thus, "Qin Yanzhou" was likely real.
Her husband’s family was the Qin clan, a prominent northern lineage. Yet, to his knowledge, none of their branches boasted a noblewoman renowned for such striking beauty.
Could she be a concubine?
It wasn’t impossible.
A proper wife would never lack guards or maids at her disposal. And if a legitimate child from a branch family were kidnapped, he would have heard rumors. A matriarch wouldn’t be reduced to searching the streets alone…
With that in mind, Qin Shaozong added, "Aside from noblewomen, look into favored concubines who have borne sons and are deeply cherished by their lords."
"Understood."
The moon set, the sun rose, and dawn broke as promised. Military men never slept in—morning drills were routine.
When Qin Shaozong returned from training, he saw Yan San stepping out of the main house. The latter explained, "Lord, 'Feng Chun' said she twisted her ankle and asked for medicinal oil. I just delivered it."
Qin Shaozong acknowledged with a hum before shifting topics. "Pack your things and move in with Mo Yanyun. Clear the side room, and this afternoon, fetch two maidservants."
Yesterday, he had refused Jiang Chonghai’s servants; today, he requested his own. A clear reversal, but Yan San didn’t question it, merely clasped his hands in obedience.
After Qin Shaozong left the previous night, Dai Li hadn’t dared remain in the main house. She quickly relocated to the small side chamber adjoining it—meant for attending servants.
Cramped as it was, with a narrow bed, it was safer than the open courtyard, and she managed a decent rest.
Burdened with worries, she woke early. Instead of venturing out, she listened quietly until the men departed before asking Yan San for medicinal wine.
She hadn’t expected the lord to return just as she applied it.
This was the finest guest courtyard, its layout and furnishings impeccable. Even the side room was brighter than most, sunlight streaming through the window to outline Qin Shaozong’s towering frame. Though daylight softened his presence slightly, his oppressive aura remained.
Dai Li had just schooled her expression when he asked, "Twisted your ankle? When did that happen?"
She couldn’t let him suspect her injury predated her exposure—lest he realize her discomfort last night had nothing to do with her monthly courses.
"After you left last night, I was uneasy and distracted. I stumbled over the threshold on my way back," she recited her prepared excuse.
Qin Shaozong’s gaze dropped. She sat cross-legged on the bed, her shoes and stockings removed, her skirt spread like petals around her. One foot remained hidden beneath the fabric, while the other—mid-calf exposed—gleamed like polished jade in the dim light. The swollen ankle, slick with oil, confirmed the injury.
His stare burned like a brand. Dai Li’s skin prickled as if scalded, and she nearly tugged her skirt down.
But she stopped herself just in time.
A woman who actively seeks the company of the powerful, eager to share intimate moments with them, would never dislike such gazes.
"Has Your Excellency come to see me because there is news of my son?" Dai Li's face lit up with excitement.
The medicinal wine had been uncorked, its pungent aroma filling the room like a ravenous beast devouring the delicate fragrance that clung to the woman. As a military commander who had weathered the chaos of battlefields, Qin Shaozong was intimately familiar with all kinds of medicinal brews. Yet, for the first time, he found today's medicinal scent particularly unwelcome.
Qin Shaozong: "There is no news of your son yet."
Dai Li lowered her eyes, her disappointment unmistakable.
"It's still early. We’ll see later." The small room meant for servants was sparsely furnished—just a table, a cabinet, and a single chair. Influenced by the cultural influx from the northern tribes, the chair was a low, foreign-style seat. Qin Shaozong picked it up with one hand, placed it before the bed, and sat astride it with an air of authority, facing Dai Li directly.
"Your name, madam?" he suddenly asked.
Dai Li was about to speak when he added in an unreadable tone, "No need for false names like Feng Chun or the like."
"...Dai Li. 'Dai' as in the distant mountains, 'Li' as in the dawn." This time, Dai Li had no intention of lying. She still needed to stay here for a few more days, and if someone called her by a false name, she might not react in time and give herself away.
Qin Shaozong studied her for a long moment before responding with a simple, "Mm." Then he continued, "Madam Qin—"
"I do not take my husband's surname," Dai Li interrupted.
A shadow flickered in Qin Shaozong's eyes.
Women who did not take their husband's surname fell into two categories: those whose maternal lineage far surpassed their husband's status, who preferred to be addressed by their own names, and those who were mere concubines or dancers, passed around like gifts. The former disdained the practice, the latter were unworthy of it—a difference as vast as heaven and earth.
The Dai family—there was no prominent "Dai" clan in either the northern regions or the Central Plains.
Qin Shaozong: "You don’t seem to be from Nankang County."
Dai Li smiled faintly. "Your Excellency has sharp eyes. Indeed, I am not a local. I came to Nankang only by chance."
He pressed further, "Where is your hometown?"
Dai Li inwardly cursed. Unlike the plots of many dramas, she had come directly from the modern era, leaving no trace here—effectively making her a person without records.
If she refused to answer, he would not let it go, possibly disrupting the delicate balance she had worked hard to maintain. But if she answered, what could she say?
Her thoughts tangled like yarn mauled by a cat. Her eyelid twitched, and suddenly, inspiration struck. "Jiaozhou. I am from Cangwu County in the southern Jiaozhou region."
In ancient times, travel was not as convenient as in the modern era, where a journey from south to north took mere hours. Even if he were determined to dig deeper, it would take months for a message to make the round trip. By then, she would no longer be in Nankang.
"Jiaozhou’s Cangwu County?" Qin Shaozong arched a brow. "Jiaozhou is at least three or four thousand li from here. Why did you leave your homeland?"
Dai Li offered a feudal-era response: "Naturally, one follows the fate of marriage—where the husband goes, the wife follows."
The man nodded, clearly approving of her answer. But his questioning did not stop there. "Why are you searching for your son alone? Where is your husband?"
Dai Li adopted a sorrowful expression. "I wonder which husband Your Excellency is referring to?"
Qin Shaozong paused. "How many husbands have you had?"
