Wei Yanxi felt Han Zhi was being far too aggressive. His original plan was merely to bring Song Chuyi under his control and, along with her, pull the Song family into Zhou Weiqi’s camp as well. But now he was clearly pushing Song Chuyi into a dead end.

“Heir, you must know even a cornered rabbit will bite. If you press her so relentlessly step by step, I’m afraid that Miss Song Six may not be willing to submit meekly to punishment.” He crossed his arms looking at Han Zhi, suddenly recalling what Zhang Run had said before—the person before him was not a master worth trusting. He was cold-hearted and cold-blooded, without sentiment. Who knew when, once you were no longer useful, he’d cleave a blade into your neck.

Han Zhi sat in the round-backed chair, one foot casually propped on the long bench opposite, and gave a cold laugh. Pushing her into a dead end? He precisely wanted to push Song Six into a dead end, to make her taste the humiliation he had suffered two years ago.

When she killed Song Eight and Wei Yanjun and spread rumors pointing the blame at him, wasn’t Song Six also pushing him into a dead end? Since she dared to do it, she should have anticipated such a day would come.

Not far away beneath the wisteria flower trellis sat the bound, short and stout An’an. His eyes swept over her and the smile at the corner of his mouth deepened further.

Although Song Chuyi was also terribly clever and just as frightening as Song Eight, she was far easier to deal with than Song Eight, because Song Eight had no vulnerabilities—even if you roasted Song Yi and the entire Li family over a fire, you couldn’t expect her to show the slightest bit of soft-heartedness or compromise. But Song Six was different. You only needed to firmly grasp her vital point.

He had Song Chuning to thank for teaching him this. Living at this Tongzhou estate was one who was her wet nurse, who had treated her like her own mother since childhood with thoroughgoing care, and one who was a senior maid who had risked her life for her birth mother and suffered countless hardships. He didn’t believe she wouldn’t come.

Of course he still wanted to bring Song Chuyi under his control, to drain dry all her utility value—the Cui family, the Earl of Changning’s residence, and the wisdom of her past and present lives combined. He wanted her to stand forever as a target before the Marquis of Jinxiang’s gates, shielding him from wind and rain in front while burying the filth of his rear courtyard behind.

Relying on this leverage and the lives of these people at Tongzhou, these bargaining chips should be enough to make her compromise.

He sat from morning until the sun was nearly setting before finally waiting for the panting Guan Shan from outside.

Guan Shan wiped his sweat, running so breathlessly he reported: “Heir, they’ve come. The Song family’s carriages and horses have arrived.”

Han Zhi kicked the long bench far away with one foot, straightened his clothes and stood up. Turning around, he saw the tardy Song Six in the distance—compared to two years ago, she looked different again. She’d grown taller with a maiden’s figure. Her hair was loosely styled in an inverted coiled chignon, with only a single Seven Treasures Exquisite hairpin inserted at an angle, setting off her skin like the pear blossoms on the trees today, fine and white as snow.

With hands behind his back, he had already sized her up carefully without showing it, his face still carrying a genial smile as he greeted her: “Long time no see, Sixth Miss. This time you’re much more composed than last time.”

Whether at the Tongzhou villa that time or at the Marquis of Jinxiang’s flower gathering, Song Chuyi’s performance could never be called calm. Only this time, she was poised and unruffled, her eyes without a ripple, her entire person so steady it left one’s heart uncertain.

Song Chuyi didn’t look at him. Her gaze passed over him to fix directly on An’an. She walked steadily past him, untied An’an’s rope, and let An’an throw herself into her embrace.

Guan Shan’s brow furrowed as he moved to step forward, but Han Zhi waved his hand to stop him, raising his chin toward Song Chuyi: “Speak then, Miss Song Six. What do you plan to do? The Earl of Changning’s villa actually harbors hidden dragons and crouching tigers, sheltering the murderer who killed eleven people in the capital’s outskirts two years ago along with the weapons. If this spreads, it will be rather difficult to resolve, won’t it?”

Song Chuyi handed An’an to Qing Ying, not even lifting her eyelids, and raised her chin toward Han Zhi: “The Heir jests. I recall that back when searching for the murderer, the Imperial Guard also searched the estate. At that time, our Old Master received word from Commander Chen. Nothing was found then. Now the Heir, after making one trip here, says we’re harboring criminals and weapons. Isn’t that too much of a coincidence?”

Han Zhi had always known Song Six’s tongue was sharp. Hearing her speak so smoothly wasn’t strange at all. Instead, he smiled. Seeing Guan Shan blocking Qing Ying who was holding the child and trying to leave, he waved his hand for Guan Shan to stop, still standing with hands behind his back, composed as he looked at Song Chuyi: “Since you’re so confident, then why did you bother coming this trip?”

Song Chuyi could always reason things through completely. What she said was right. The Imperial Guard had long ago searched all the households near Tongzhou and the capital’s outskirts. Even Elder Chen’s hot spring villa had been searched countless times. If anything could be discovered, it would have been discovered long ago. He couldn’t possibly frame these Tongzhou people at this moment. Otherwise, Chen Xiang probably wouldn’t let the matter rest, much less the Earl of Changning’s residence.

He paused, then immediately followed with a meaningful look at Song Chuyi, saying with a smile that wasn’t quite a smile: “Because Miss Song Six, you’re clear in your heart that the matter of the Tongzhou estate harboring weapons and murderers is false, but the person captured at the Yellow Immortal Temple is real. Am I not correct?”

He didn’t wait for Song Chuyi’s answer, nor was he angry. He walked to Song Chuyi’s front of his own accord, examining her carefully for a while before suddenly changing his expression. From his smiling appearance just now, he abruptly transformed, his facial expression distorting: “I truly didn’t realize that Miss Song Six is not only clever-minded but also black-hearted enough. Song Eight was after all your own younger sister. Even if you had grievances before, she’d already been beaten by you until she had no power to fight back. Yet you still didn’t leave even a bit of room, actually killing her like that. She died miserably—her face was slashed dozens of times. When I went to look, I only saw wounds turned white from being soaked in rainwater…”

His breath sprayed on Song Chuyi’s face. Song Chuyi recoiled in disgust, reaching out to accept a handkerchief passed over by the indignant Luyi, wiping her face clean bit by bit.

She always knew very well how to enrage Han Zhi. The Han Zhi who had previously cultivated himself to be like a fox still often jumped in fury because of her, let alone the Han Zhi who hadn’t yet become a demon. Although Han Zhi knew her origins and thought he understood her, ultimately he wasn’t like her—someone reborn for one lifetime with an additional lifetime’s tempering and lessons learned from experience.

Han Zhi indeed became even more furious. The veins on his clenched fists bulged visibly, clearly using great force to restrain himself.

After a long while, he finally recovered his calm and looked up to ask her: “How did you know Song Eight wasn’t dead and would be sent away that night?”