Song Tingxue was generous with his offer, promising compensation regardless of whether they succeeded in finding his sister-in-law. For Chu'he, who was in desperate need of money, this was an irresistible temptation.
She pulled Ninth along and followed Song Tingxue to the Zhao residence.
It was only during their conversation that Chu'he learned Song Tingxue was actually a live-in son-in-law of the Zhao family.
In this era, any man with ambition and capability would disdain becoming a live-in son-in-law. Yet, when Song Tingxue mentioned it, he did so with remarkable ease.
Ninth didn’t understand. "What’s a live-in son-in-law?"
Chu'he whispered, "It means he married into his wife’s family. Everything—food, clothes—is paid for by her, and any children they have will take her surname."
Ninth was sometimes naive, sometimes sharp. "Just like you and me."
Chu'he noticed Song Tingxue’s gaze flickering toward them. She tugged discreetly at Ninth’s sleeve and hissed, "Don’t say such nonsense!"
The Zhao family was the wealthiest in the city, their estate grand and imposing.
As soon as Song Tingxue returned, he asked the servants where his wife was. Upon learning she was in the accounting room, his brow furrowed.
"Rongyue’s health is poor—balancing the books drains her energy. Why is she there again?"
A servant replied, "There was an issue with the accounts. The young mistress insisted on reviewing them herself."
Song Tingxue grew visibly concerned and quickened his pace.
Chu'he and Ninth trailed behind. Along the way, Chu'he noticed how respectfully the Zhao household treated Song Tingxue. Seeing how close he was with his wife, she guessed that unlike other live-in sons-in-law who were looked down upon, Song Tingxue had managed to earn genuine respect.
Four accountants stood in a row, listening attentively to the woman seated before them, her fingers dancing over the abacus.
"The revenue from the cloth merchant in the west district is down by ten percent. If I recall correctly, that area falls under Mr. Wu’s responsibility?"
The other three accountants turned toward one man.
Mr. Wu forced a smile. "Yes, the west district’s business is under my supervision."
"Mr. Wu has never made a mistake before."
Mr. Wu hurried to explain, "I must have been distracted lately—my health hasn’t been the best. This was my oversight, and I accept any punishment."
"Mr. Wu, you exaggerate. You’ve served the Zhao family for nearly twenty years. I still remember the first account I ever calculated—it was under your guidance. You were my teacher. A single lapse in judgment hardly warrants punishment."
Mr. Wu’s expression softened with emotion.
Zhao Rongyue coughed lightly into her handkerchief before smiling. "Mr. Wu, there’s no need to be so hard on yourself. To err is human—I won’t hold this against you."
Mr. Wu bowed his head. "I am ashamed."
"Two weeks ago, I heard you and the west district’s shopkeeper shared a fine bottle of Qionghua wine at Zuixian Pavilion. Since you have a taste for fine liquor, I’ll have a few more bottles sent to your residence."
Mr. Wu broke into a cold sweat, his head still lowered.
The other three accountants tensed, their gazes lingering on the pale but breathtakingly beautiful woman before them, her frailty belying her sharp mind.
"Rongyue."
Song Tingxue strode in, seemingly oblivious to the tense atmosphere. He went straight to his wife, taking her cold hand in his.
"You’re unwell. The physician insisted you rest—you shouldn’t exhaust yourself over trivial matters."
Zhao Rongyue dismissed the accountants before rising slowly, guided by her husband’s grip. Her eyes curved into a gentle smile.
"I know my limits. I only glanced at a few pages—it’s nothing serious."
Her gaze then shifted to the unfamiliar young man and woman. "And these guests are…?"
Song Tingxue introduced them. "This is Ninth and Chu'he—experts I’ve enlisted to help find Shuxing. And this is my wife."
Despite being born into a merchant family, Zhao Rongyue carried herself with the grace of a noblewoman—refined and dignified.
"Ninth, Chu'he, thank you for coming." She dipped into a courteous bow. "My husband must have told you about my younger sister Shuxing’s disappearance. If you can bring her home, I would gladly offer half the Zhao family’s wealth as reward."
Song Tingxue added, "Since Shuxing went missing, Rongyue’s health has worsened from worry. As a scholar, I’ve had to learn business from scratch, and my understanding is still limited. There’s little I can do to ease her burdens."
His lips pressed together briefly before he looked up, his eyes filled with desperate hope.
"Please, help us find Shuxing."
Chu'he glanced at Ninth beside her.
Ninth had been toying with the velvet flower in Chu'he’s hair, occasionally stealing glances at the glittering hairpin in Zhao Rongyue’s updo. Sensing Chu'he’s stare, he met her gaze with lazy disinterest.
Chu'he knew better than to rely on him for formalities.
She cleared her throat. "Mr. Song, Miss Zhao, may we discuss this privately?"
Once outside, Chu'he pulled Ninth aside. "What do you think?"
Ninth: "I think with my eyes."
Chu'he choked back frustration, hissing, "I mean, do you think this job is doable?"
Ninth: "What’s doable? What’s not?"
Chu'he gritted her teeth. "Keep your voice down!"
Ninth blinked, then whispered something so faint she couldn’t catch a word.
After a beat of silence, Chu'he grabbed his collar, yanking him down to her level.
"Stop messing around!"
The silver ornaments on his clothes jingled, sunlight glinting off them like scattered ripples.
Chu'he stood on her toes, her face inches from his. The flutter of her lashes seemed to catch the light dancing in his eyes.
Somehow, the little velvet flowers in her hair seemed to come alive, as if a spring breeze had stirred the surface of a still pond, sending tremors through the air.
He was watching her.
Chu'he suddenly felt self-conscious. Releasing his collar, she dropped back onto her heels and averted her gaze.
"These disappearances sound bizarre—there might be something bigger behind them. We need money, but not enough to risk our lives."
He was still staring, unmoving.
Chu'he swallowed, nervously twisting a lock of hair around her finger. "If you think it’s dangerous, we’ll leave. If you get hurt—if you bleed—it won’t be worth it."
Her reasoning was simple.
She didn’t understand all these messy matters, and besides, she had no martial skills or knowledge of gu sorcery. If it came to a fight, Ninth would undoubtedly be the one leading the charge—and if anyone got hurt, it would only be him. If even he couldn’t handle it, then there was certainly nothing she could do.
A long time passed, but Ninth’s reply never came.
Chu'he lifted her face impatiently. "Ninth, didn’t you hear me?"
The moment she raised her head, her breath caught.
At some point, Ninth had bent down, lowering his head so close that even if she stood on her tiptoes, he was nearer than before.
So near that just a little more, and their noses would touch.
He was like a ghost, often silent and unnoticed.
But now, perhaps because of the proximity, she could almost feel his breath.
Maybe it was the warmth of his exhale, or maybe the sunlight was just too bright—her cheeks gradually flushed pink, and tiny beads of sweat glistened on the fine hairs of her nose.
Ninth tilted his head slightly, his striking crimson eyes filled with innocence and curiosity.
For some reason, seeing her own reflection in his gaze made Chu'he feel an even stronger wave of embarrassment. But before long, a shadow fell over them, and the image of herself that had shamed her now blurred as if veiled in mist.
He raised both hands, shielding her head from the suddenly scorching sun.
The young man stared at her without blinking, his lashes casting delicate shadows under his eyes, capturing even the slightest flutter of her wind-tousled hair.
Her heartbeat lost its rhythm.
Then, abruptly, he spoke: "I want to earn money."
Chu'he was taken aback. Had he suddenly realized the importance of wealth?
His pale fingertips lightly brushed the small velvet flower in her hair as he murmured to himself, "Then I can replace this with shiny gemstones. It’ll look even prettier."
Chu'he: "…?"
