With a creak, the door swung open.

  "Young Master, Liu Yin Gongzi asked Lady Huang Juan to send word—he's going to the Prime Minister's mansion today. He said, You don't have to wait for him; he might not return until te tonight."

  Ze Ning turned his gaze toward the newcomer—a young maid with twin buns atop her head, dressed in a floral-embroidered gown. Her face was unremarkable, neither beautiful nor ugly. The only striking feature was her well-shaped eyebrows.

  But more than that, she had a pleasant smile, the kind that made people feel at ease.

  A maid should not be too beautiful—too much beauty could outshine the master.

  This one was just right. Not dazzling, not unsightly, not annoying.

  And yet—why had he never seen her before?

  At the same time, the girl was also studying Ze Ning. She had never met this man, a figure of immense importance to the capital and the emperor's safety. She had long heard that he could not speak, yet looking at him now, he seemed no different from an ordinary person. In fact, he had an unexpectedly refined, delicate appearance—like a pristine sheet of paper, pure and untouched, yet capable of holding infinite depths within.

  Such a profound person!

  "Hai Ling, greet Young Master Ze Ning."

  Shang Xuan waved a sleeve dismissively. "Ze Ning, this is my new maid, Hai Ling. Now that you've met, you can stop staring at each other."

  Hai Ling did not seem particurly frightened by her master's reprimand. She merely smiled and said, “Young Master Ze Ning is truly striking in appearance. It was my rudeness—if I've offended you, I accept my punishment.” She gave a small bow and turned to leave. “I will take my leave now.”

  “Come back.”

  Shang Xuan's voice was cold. “Did I say you could go?” His eyes flicked upward toward the ceiling. “Shouldn't you be chopping wood in Xiangling Courtyard right now? Why are you here? And since when does someone of your status have the right to deliver messages?”

  Ze Ning's brows drew together slightly. There was something unusual between Shang Xuan and this maid. Sensing the tension, he stood up, intending to leave and give them space.

  “Ze Ning, you don't need to leave!” Shang Xuan sneered. “I was just about to tell you how extraordinary this little maid is! Do you know what makes her so special? She can do anything you ask—like some kind of immortal sorceress!”

  His voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “Yesterday, I told her to chop five hundred jin of firewood. A weak little girl like her, without even the strength to wring a chicken's neck, and yet—she actually did it in one night. Tell me, if that′s not magic, then what is?”

  Ze Ning frowned. What was Shang Xuan's tone? What was his intent?

  “And now, I'll tell you exactly why she's so capable.”

  Without warning, Shang Xuan seized Hai Ling by the colr and lifted her off the ground.

  “She has an extraordinary mistress. And behind that mistress—an even more extraordinary strategist.”

  Hai Ling gasped, struggling for breath as her face turned deathly pale, but Shang Xuan paid no heed.

  “She used to serve Rong Peitian. Do you understand? Rong Pei Tian—”

  Ze Ning abruptly stood up, raising a sheet of paper.

  “Rong Yin's sister?”

  A thin smile finally tugged at Shang Xuan's lips. “That′s right. Rong Peitian—Rong Yin's sister. Our sworn enemy.”

  And yet, he still did not release Hai Ling. If anything, it seemed as though he meant to strangle her.

  Ze Ning's hand holding the brush tilted slightly to the left, the tip aiming at Shang Xuan's wrist, precisely at the Yangxi acupoint. Ze Ning was no weak martial artist—if this stroke nded, the meridians in Shang Xuan's right thumb would be crippled.

  Forced into a retreat, Shang Xuan had no choice but to withdraw his hand and release Hai Ling.

  “You certainly have a soft spot for beauty,” he sneered. “Even Rong Yin's maidservant—you're willing to save her too?”

  “She is Rong Peitian's maid, not Rong Peitian himself, and certainly not Rong Yin. Taking out your anger on her—is that not sheer bullying? Shang Xuan, this is beneath you!” Ze Ning's brush paused slightly. “Why is she here with you?”

  Shang Xuan gnced at him with a hint of disdain as he wrote. “Rong Peitian set her free, ciming to turn a sve into a commoner. But after her old father died, she had no money for the burial. I paid for the funeral and bought her back. What, now you're interfering with even the purchase of a maid?”

  “Rong Yin belongs to the Emperor—his loyalty lies with the throne. You want the Emperor dead, so it's only natural that you and he are at odds. There's nothing surprising about that. But exploiting someone's misfortune, buying a maid from the Rong family just to vent your anger at Rong Yin—Shang Xuan, that makes you unworthy of my respect.”

  For once, Ze Ning's usually composed face showed rare displeasure, his disapproval unmistakable. “Shang Xuan, let her go.”

  Shang Xuan's face darkened at Ze Ning's reprimand. He had yet to respond when Hai Ling, having finally caught her breath, hurriedly interjected, “Cough, cough… Young Master Ze Ning, the young master has never treated me badly. He isn't taking out his anger on me—hejust—”

  “Hai Ling! Shut up!” Shang Xuan snapped. “Say another word, and I'll send you to the kitchen at once!”

  For the first time, the ever-reckless and defiant Shang Xuan—who always carried himself as though not even the heavens could restrain him—seemed genuinely flustered. He even sprang up from his chair in agitation.

  But Hai Ling spoke faster than his threats could silence her. “He only bought me because he wanted to see Miss Peitian. He keeps making me do all sorts of strange tasks—things I can't manage—so that Miss Peitian will secretly come to help me. That way, the young master gets to see her.” She smiled faintly. “As for why the young master dislikes Young Master Rong Yin so much, it's simply because occasionally Young Master Rong Yin sends guards from the Rong mansion to stop Miss Peitian from going out. And when she can't leave, the young master can't see her.”

  She gnced at Ze Ning and continued with certainty, “I swear, the young master has never harbored any ill will toward me. He has never brought his court grudges home. He′s just… a little childish, wanting to see Miss Peitian.”