In just a short time, the Zhao residence became eerily quiet, as if abandoned.
Ninth crouched on the ground, dipping a finger into the spilled medicinal liquid. He glanced at the little green snake draped over Chu'he's shoulder, and as if receiving a command, the snake reluctantly slithered down and made its way toward him.
Ninth held out his finger, now coated with the liquid. The snake flicked out its crimson tongue, giving his finger a tentative lick—then immediately rolled its eyes back and collapsed onto the ground.
"Little Green!"
Chu'he rushed over, scooping up the limp snake in her hands. She shook it frantically, as if trying to summon its spirit back.
"Little Green, what's wrong with you?"
"Open your eyes, please!"
"Little Green!"
Ninth rested his hands on his knees, watching Chu'he's dramatic performance with a puzzled expression.
The snake, dizzy from the shaking, weakly lifted its head before dropping it again, its eyes glazed over.
A moment later, Chu'he leaned in close to Ninth, whispering urgently, "Is there something wrong with the medicine?"
Ninth remained silent.
Chu'he tossed the snake aside, pulled out a handkerchief, and grabbed Ninth's hand, meticulously wiping his fingers clean.
Her curiosity burned bright, and sweet words spilled from her lips like coins. "Ninth, dear Ninth, the cleverest Ninth in the world—just tell me, is this medicine poison?"
Ninth glanced at her hand clutching his, blinked slowly, then propped his chin on his other hand, answering leisurely, "It's not poison."
Chu'he frowned and immediately dropped his hand. Suspicion colored her voice. "If it's not poison, then was I just overthinking things?"
Ninth pressed his lips together, then slipped his hand back into hers, hooking his pinky around hers.
Too preoccupied to pay attention to his antics, Chu'he muttered to herself, "I thought this was some scheme where the live-in son-in-law was trying to seize the family fortune. Could it really all just be a coincidence? But how did those kidnappers just happen to target Miss Zhao?"
Ninth covered a yawn with his hand, then unceremoniously sat on the ground, leaning his weight against Chu'he's shoulder before closing his eyes.
The added pressure made her shoulder ache, and she wanted to scold him for sitting on the dirty ground. But one look at his peaceful sleeping face softened her, and she sat down beside him.
A chilly night breeze swept through, tousling the long hair at the back of his head.
Chu'he quickly gathered his thick, silky strands, cradling them in her lap. She couldn't help but glance at his face—his cool-toned skin seemed softer under the hazy moonlight, and she could almost feel his breath against her cheek.
She grumbled under her breath, "I've never met anyone as clingy as you."
In response, the young man tightened his grip on her hand.
By the time dawn approached, Fang Songhe returned alone to the Zhao residence.
By then, Ninth had already dragged Chu'he down to sit with him, using her as a pillow while he slept. At the sound of footsteps landing nearby, his eyes snapped open. Rising like a resentful ghost, he clung to Chu'he, his gaze dark and fixed on Fang Songhe.
Chu'he asked anxiously, "How did it go?"
Fang Songhe replied, "The man disappeared into the mountains. I lost his trail. Mr. Song and the Zhao family's men are still searching, but given Miss Zhao's condition when she was taken... if we don't find her soon, I fear the worst."
The thought of that gentle, refined woman made Chu'he's heart ache.
Fang Songhe looked up. "Ninth, your tracking insects can follow scents—could they also locate Miss Zhao?"
Ninth was busy playing with a lock of Chu'he's black hair, twisting it into a tiny braid like the ones in his own silver-white strands. It was unclear if he'd even heard Fang Songhe's question.
Fang Songhe turned to Chu'he for help.
Clearing her throat, she flashed a bright smile. "Ninth, we're staying in Miss Zhao's house, eating her food, and she even paid us. It wouldn't be right if we didn't help find her, would it?"
Ninth blinked. "You want me to find her?"
Chu'he nodded.
"And what do I get in return?"
"What do you want?"
Ninth thought for a moment. "Skin—"
Chu'he clapped a hand over his mouth, flustered. "Ninth! Don't say things like that in front of others!"
Ninth tilted his head.
Fang Songhe looked bewildered.
Having spent so much time with Ninth, Chu'he had learned his patterns well enough to react the moment he uttered the word "skin."
Ninth knew nothing of romance, so shame was a foreign concept to him. He spoke his mind with startling bluntness.
But this was the Central Plains!
Under Fang Songhe's questioning gaze, Chu'he's face burned.
Ninth reached up, brushing his thumb against her flushed earlobe, recalling how her ears turned just as red whenever their skin touched.
Gritting her teeth, Chu'he whispered, "If you find Miss Zhao, I'll... consider your request."
After all, to him, "skin contact" was probably no different from a child's game of make-believe.
Ninth's eyes curved into crescents. He opened his palm, and a tiny winged insect hovered in the air. After a moment, it seemed to catch a scent, fluttering off into the distance.
Still holding Chu'he's hand—the one that had covered his mouth—Ninth laced their fingers together and led the way forward.
Left with no choice, Fang Songhe followed silently.
The mountain forest at night was desolate and cold.
Hidden behind thick shrubs, the mouth of a cave dripped with rhythmic echoes, amplifying the chill.
Huddled in a corner, Zhao Rongyue clutched her chest, her body wracked with spasms of pain. A cold sweat drenched her, and her breathing grew ragged.
A premonition settled over her—she might not live much longer.
But her own death didn't matter. What tormented her was the thought of her missing younger sister, and the seventy-three members of the Zhao household. What would become of them without her?
And then there was... Song Tingxue, her husband.
Footsteps echoed through the damp air as a towering figure approached.
Zhao Rongyue forced her head up, her vision blurred as she stared at the looming threat.
Finally, the man—more beast than human—reached for her.
She shut her eyes, bracing for pain... but it never came. When she dared to look again, the hand before her was bloodied and mangled, yet it held a green medicinal herb, roots still intact.
"Galangal... can... dispel cold and... relieve pain," he rasped. "Eat it."
