“What?” Wen Ping’s expression immediately changed, his glare at the man fierce enough to breathe fire. “Why don’t you just go rob people!”

The man assumed a good-natured demeanor. “Lord Wen, calm down. Getting angry won’t solve the problem.”

Someone muttered quietly, “Robbery doesn’t bring in money as fast as this.”

Wen Ping felt a stifling pain in his chest, breathing with difficulty. “I… don’t have that much money.”

“Don’t have it?” The man’s smile vanished, replaced by murderous intent. “What are you waiting for? Chop off his son’s finger!”

His subordinate responded affirmatively and swung the cleaver down.

“Ah—”

“Wait!” Wen Ping’s shout and the youth’s scream rang out almost simultaneously.

The youth pressed sideways against the wall and slowly slid to the ground.

Wen Ping’s face turned ashen as he rushed over. “Yun’er, Yun’er, are you alright?”

Wen Yun’s eyes were tightly shut with no response.

“You animals, just you wait! Even if it means mutual destruction, I won’t let you off!” Wen Ping jumped up.

The man laughed. “Lord Wen, don’t panic. Your son just fainted from fright.”

Wen Ping froze, only then thinking to check Wen Yun’s hands. He examined the left hand, then the right, discovering both were perfectly intact. He immediately looked at the wall.

A faint knife mark on the wall seemed to mock his disheveled state.

The man holding the cleaver chuckled. “Lord Wen cares so much for his son, yet you can’t bear to part with a little silver?”

“A little? That’s one thousand taels!” At the mention of silver, half of Wen Ping’s frightened soul returned.

The leader stepped closer, his face completely expressionless. “Lord Wen, just now we gave you one chance. Next time, the cleaver won’t just fall on the wall. Think it over carefully—will you pay the money, or leave behind your son’s finger?”

“Could… could it be a bit less?” Wen Ping finally realized how difficult these people were and softened his tone.

Losing one finger wouldn’t affect daily life, but how would he face his master’s inquiries?

At that point, the things he had done to fill his son’s gambling debts would very likely be exposed!

He couldn’t take that risk.

Wen Ping gritted his teeth. “I don’t have that much silver. Give me some time…”

“How many days?” The leader immediately pressed.

“Half a month—” Seeing the man’s expression turn unfavorable, Wen Ping immediately changed his answer. “Ten days—give me ten days!”

The man held up three fingers. “Three days. In three days, bring the silver and take your son away.”

“Three days is really too tight.”

“That’s your problem.” The man waved his hand. “Take Young Master Yun away and serve him well.”

Wen Ping’s expression changed. “Where are you taking my son?”

The man smiled. “Lord Wen, rest assured. During these three days, your son is precious indeed.”

Watching his son being dragged away by several people, Wen Ping’s expression changed repeatedly. In this instant, he seemed to age several years.

“Lord Wen, better hurry.” The man said this and walked away with his hands behind his back.

Wen Ping remained motionless for a long while, then slowly walked back on weakened legs.

One thousand taels—how could he gather one thousand taels!

In his daze, someone blocked his path.

Wen Ping shifted his eyes and recognized the person blocking him.

“Baozhu?”

“Our miss is waiting for you at the teahouse ahead.” Baozhu dropped this statement and turned to leave.

Wen Ping stood there stunned for a moment, then caught up. “Baozhu, what does Second Miss want with me?”

Baozhu glanced in the direction of Qianjin Lane, her expression blank. “I don’t know. Miss wants to see you—just go.”

Wen Ping noticed Baozhu’s reaction, and his heart immediately hung in suspense.

Had Second Miss learned about his son going to the gambling house?

Realizing this, Wen Ping’s heart sank to the bottom. He followed Baozhu with unsteady steps to a teahouse.

In the private room, a young lady in green robes rested her chin in her hand, gazing out the window in a leisurely posture.

“Miss, Steward Wen has arrived.”

Wen Ping walked over and bowed. “May this old servant ask what matter Second Miss wishes to discuss?”

Wen Hao’s indifferent gaze fell on Wen Ping’s face. Just as her stare was making him uneasy, she smiled. “I wondered why Steward Wen was in such a rush today—turns out you came to the gambling house to ransom someone.”

Wen Ping’s expression immediately changed as he stared at Wen Hao in astonishment.

He had guessed that Second Miss summoning him was related to the gambling house, but he hadn’t expected Second Miss to be so direct.

In his youth, he had been the master’s page boy, the only servant in the vast Wen Manor who came from their hometown. Even Madam gave him considerable face. What did Second Miss mean by this?

Wen Hao held her tea and took a small sip, not inviting Wen Ping to sit.

Wen Ping grew increasingly uncertain. “Second Miss, this old servant still has matters to attend to at the manor—”

Wen Hao set down her teacup and laughed lightly. “Returning to the manor to raise money?”

Wen Ping’s expression drastically changed.

“Within three days, one thousand taels won’t be easy to gather, will it?”

“Second Miss, you mustn’t listen to idle gossip—”

Wen Hao was too lazy to waste words and said indifferently, “Baozhu—”

Baozhu reached into her sleeve, pulled out a stack of banknotes, and slapped them into Wen Ping’s hand.

Wen Ping held the banknotes, his voice changing pitch. “Second Miss, what is the meaning of this?”

“Baozhu, go guard the door outside.”

Once Baozhu silently withdrew, Wen Hao got to the point. “Steward Wen, let’s talk about what my father instructed you to do.”

Wen Ping didn’t react immediately. “Second Miss is referring to—”

Wen Hao smiled charmingly. “The matter of lying and saying he had already married his cousin before coming to the capital.”

These words struck like thunder from a clear sky. Wen Ping’s eyes widened as he stared at Wen Hao as if seeing a ghost.

Wen Hao was in no hurry and lowered her eyes to sip her tea.

Who knows how long passed before Wen Ping found his voice again. “Sec… Second Miss, where did you hear such absurd talk—”

Wen Hao’s face darkened. “I advise Steward Wen to think about those one thousand taels before speaking.”

Wen Ping seemed to have his throat constricted. He immediately lost his voice, his mind in complete chaos.

How could Second Miss know about Madam Qing’s matter? She even knew what the master had instructed him to do?

Had he truly seen a ghost?

The young lady’s voice sounded eerily. “If you don’t want others to know, don’t do it in the first place. Does Steward Wen think this saying is correct?”

All color drained from Wen Ping’s face. The incomparably beautiful young lady appeared somewhat sinister in his eyes.

He… he might have truly seen a ghost!

“Second Miss… what do you want?” First the fright at the gambling house, then Wen Hao’s abnormal behavior—it all made Wen Ping, normally a fairly steady person, lose his composure.

“It’s not what I want, but what Steward Wen wants.” Wen Hao looked at him expressionlessly. “Does Steward Wen want to accept the banknotes and become a conscientious person who tells the truth, or assist the tyrant in his evil deeds by lying through your teeth, then wait to collect Wen Yun’s corpse in three days?”

“Collect his corpse?” Steward Wen’s pupils contracted as he cried out.

Wen Hao raised her hand to smooth the peach blossom hairpin in her hair, smiling radiantly. “Doesn’t the saying go that money can make ghosts turn millstones? For one thousand taels they can chop off Wen Yun’s finger. If I offered ten thousand taels… I should be able to buy his life, shouldn’t I?”

“Second Miss, you—”

Wen Hao’s face turned cold as she pulled out the peach blossom hairpin and slapped it on the table. “Steward Wen, you know I can afford ten thousand taels. Oh, and there’s one more thing I know.”