The sun had gradually lost its warmth. Song Chuyi contemplated for a moment before nodding: “Since that’s the case, you should depart today. If they can travel safely and peacefully all the way to Yingyang, follow them closely. I always feel this matter may not be quite so simple.”
Old Madam Chen wasn’t a fool either. No matter how urgent her situation, she wouldn’t fail to leave herself a backup plan—the principle that people disperse when the tea cools, that monkeys scatter when the tree falls, Old Madam Chen had probably experienced to her very bones during this period. Facing Fan Liangdi, she definitely would keep one eye open.
And on what basis could an orphaned girl safely and steadily marry into the Fan family? The Fan family weren’t fools, and Old Madam Chen wasn’t a fool either. Though the conditions had been negotiated and she’d agreed to give the silver to Fan Liangdi, before the matter was accomplished, Fan Liangdi probably couldn’t get her hands on that money. If it weren’t so, it would truly defy common sense.
She thought carefully again, then said: “If my guess is correct, Miss Chen must have certain tokens on her person. These tokens are the key to whether her marriage can succeed or not. Old Madam Chen must have instructed her about this—she should be carrying them close to her body. How about this—” She lifted her head to look at Ma Wangkun and Ma Changjiang: “You follow her the whole way and think of a method to see if you can find these tokens. This journey may not be peaceful. If I were Fan Liangdi, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be willing to truly see this marriage succeed. And since she wants the marriage to fail yet wants to obtain the tokens, there are essentially only two choices: first, to finish off Miss Chen on the road, seize her tokens to eliminate future troubles; second, to wait until Miss Chen reaches Yingyang and enters the Fan family, then use the slow knife to cut the flesh. Both possibilities exist—you handle it as you see fit. Remember one thing: if Fan Liangdi’s people try to make their move midway, do your utmost to preserve the lives of Miss Chen and that great-aunt from the Chen family.”
Ma Changjiang and Ma Wangkun listened very carefully and agreed without hesitation. Turning back, they immediately packed their things. The two men rode non-stop along the return route, pursuing them again.
Actually, this Miss Chen was truly unlikeable. Qing Ying frowned and looked at Song Chuyi: “Miss, why must you save such a person? How many times has she tripped us up before? Before Old Madam Chen died, she still wanted to frame our family. Miss Chen is narrow-minded and goes against you at every turn. Wouldn’t it be better to let her and Fan Liangdi fight like dogs?”
She and Chen Mingyu had never had any direct conflict, had never really formed any enmity, but from their time at the Tongzhou estate, Chen Mingyu insisted on treating her as a thorn in her eye and flesh. Actually, if it were Song Chuyi herself, she never took Chen Mingyu seriously—if she wanted to strike, she would pick on Elder Chen himself. She would never play those lowly tricks like Miss Chen did.
She smiled and tugged at the corner of her mouth: “Help her? How am I helping her?”
Though Chen Mingyu was detestable, Fan Liangdi was even more formidable. Song Chuyi was unwilling to watch helplessly as that batch of Chen family wealth fell into Fan Liangdi’s hands. It was still the same principle—the justice the Crown Prince refused to give, she would seek herself.
Chen Mingyu couldn’t die. Keeping Chen Mingyu alive would still bring great benefits. She wanted to use Chen Mingyu to sound Fan Liangdi’s death knell.
The sun gradually moved away from the treetops and began sinking westward. Song Chuyi stood up, just preparing to tell Ma Wangkun’s wife that she was leaving, when Qing Zhuo poked his head out from next door. Seeing her, he happily waved: “Sixth Miss!”
After calling out, he whooshed back out of sight. The next moment, he opened the vermilion door in the middle wall and quickly ran over to invite Song Chuyi to come next door: “His Highness just happened to come check on Old Kong and the others. We knew you’d be here at this time!”
His excited expression made even Song Chuyi unable to help curving the corners of her mouth. She followed him through the neighboring garden, entered the main hall, then followed the familiar path into the secret room. Sure enough, she saw Old Kong just about to leave.
Old Kong was from the Lu family. From the day Zhou Weizhao descended Dragon-Tiger Mountain, he’d been by his side. The journey when Zhou Weizhao returned from Dragon-Tiger Mountain was full of dangers—Old Kong had risked his life to protect him on the return. Zhou Weizhao had always been very respectful toward him.
Seeing Song Chuyi, his face broke into a smile. He hunched his back, coughed a few times, greeted Song Chuyi, then went out.
Zhou Weizhao had Song Chuyi sit down and asked her: “Why were you in such a hurry today? You went to your uncle’s place—you could have stayed longer. Why didn’t you even eat before rushing over?”
Song Chuyi indeed hadn’t eaten at the Cui residence. The truth was that after Ma Wangkun and Ma Changjiang sent word in, she became somewhat restless. She’d grown an extra eye now, learned a principle—when striking a snake, one must strike it dead; when removing weeds, one must remove the roots. Once she had news of Chen Mingyu, how could she still sit at the Cui residence? It just so happened Cui Yingshu also needed to visit Chief Minister Chang, so she found an excuse to leave.
She told Zhou Weizhao honestly: “Uncle needed to go to Chief Minister Chang’s place, and I got news about Chen Mingyu on my end, so I simply came out.”
The door knocked softly. Old Kong’s voice sounded outside. Zhou Weizhao called out for him to enter, and Old Kong came in carrying a food box, set it down, and immediately went back out.
Zhou Weizhao personally took out several types of pastries from the vermilion food box painted with plum blossoms, then pulled out the second layer and arranged several dishes, lifting his chin toward Song Chuyi: “Eat some. You’ve been bustling about since morning until now—don’t you notice you’re hungry?”
Song Chuyi was somewhat shocked by this box of food and couldn’t quite recover. She blankly accepted the chopsticks Zhou Weizhao handed her, somewhat disbelievingly: “How did you know I hadn’t eaten?”
Zhou Weizhao coughed: “When your people were arranging tea and snacks, Qing Zhuo heard it.”
So this boy had been eavesdropping all along. Song Chuyi lowered her head to look—they were all dishes she loved to eat. The mushroom duck feet and pickled bamboo shoot chicken skin soup looked immediately appetizing. She’d been rushing about all day and was indeed somewhat hungry, so she accepted Zhou Weizhao’s kindness and held the soup bowl Zhou Weizhao ladled for her, taking a sip.
Zhou Weizhao patiently pushed the tea brewed with candied kumquats closer to her hand: “First drink something to moisten your throat.”
He showed no intention whatsoever of asking her what she intended to do by having Ma Wangkun and Ma Changjiang go find Chen Mingyu this time. Last time, the meaning she’d conveyed to Zhou Weizhao was that she wanted to eliminate Chen Mingyu completely, roots and all. Song Chuyi narrowed her eyes, set down the white porcelain bowl in her hand, and asked him: “Why don’t you ask me what I’m planning to do now that the plan has changed?”
Zhou Weizhao smiled and glanced at her: “No matter how it changes, you have your reasons. If you want to tell me, you’ll naturally say so. In any case, whatever you say is what it is—I trust you completely.”
This person really was—he looked like a block of wood, but how were the words that came out of his mouth anything like wood at all?