Song Yao was kissed into such a daze that even after returning to her own courtyard, her cheeks remained flushed crimson—clearly well-satisfied.
Leaning against the Golden Phoebe wood chair, she listened to reports from her subordinate about the organization’s affairs. The messenger was a woman named Hongyue, dressed in form-fitting red attire, who headed the assassination department.
Hongyue: “Master, we’ve located Ruoxue’s latest whereabouts.”
Ruoxue was a member of the assassination department. Half a month earlier, during her first assassination mission, she not only failed to eliminate the target but betrayed the organization by falling in love with him instead—making Song Yao both furious and amused.
Song Yao: “Kill her.” Her voice was detached, devoid of emotion or mercy, as if ordering an execution was as trivial as crushing an ant.
Hongyue bowed her head even lower.
Song Yao raised an eyebrow, “What? Can’t do it?”
Hongyue: “This subordinate deserves death. If Ruoxue were still in Changle Quarter, I would have her head on a platter. But according to newly obtained intelligence, Changle Quarter operates under the Sixth Prince’s protection. Ruoxue is now residing in the Sixth Prince’s estate.”
…
Song Yao took a few seconds to process this information before letting out an ambiguous chuckle: “I understand. I’ll take her life myself. You may withdraw.”
Feeling remorseful, Hongyue remained kneeling, “This incident resulted from my inadequate supervision. I beg for your punishment.”
Half the organization’s members owed their lives to their master—including Hongyue herself, who would have died a decade ago if not for Song Yao’s timely rescue.
Song Yao gestured slightly, and Rushuang, standing nearby, understood immediately and went to help Hongyue up.
Song Yao was no lenient master. After brief consideration, she declared, “Then your punishment shall be a journey to Poison Mountain. Additionally, inform everyone that I will not tolerate similar incidents in the future. Understood?”
Hongyue: “Thank you, Master. This subordinate understands.”
At dusk, the sky blazed with sunset clouds.
Song Yao had just finalized her plan to eliminate the traitor and was setting down her brush to stretch when the Eastern Palace’s steward arrived.
The steward, surnamed Rong, was the Empress’s trusted aide and exceptionally capable at managing palace affairs. She treated Song Yao, the Eastern Palace’s mistress, with utmost respect.
Granny Rong brought several rosewood chests filled with jewelry, accessories crafted from jade and agate, exquisite ornaments, and rare medicinal herbs worth fortunes.
Granny Rong: “Crown Princess, these are all rare treasures from Mobei. His Highness the Crown Prince instructed this old servant to deliver them, hoping they please you.”
Though such gifts had been frequent during their half-month marriage, Song Yao feigned overwhelmed gratitude. After exchanging customary pleasantries, she remembered to play the filial and thoughtful daughter-in-law.
“Does Her Majesty the Empress possess such items? If not, this humble servant would be deeply uneasy.”
Granny Rong smiled kindly and nodded, “Her Majesty naturally has her share. The Crown Princess may accept these with peace of mind.”
Song Yao’s brow smoothed in apparent relief. She signaled Rushuang to reward Granny Rong before seeing her off.
During the evening meal, Song Yao thanked Nangong Yi for the gifts and seized the opportunity to broach another matter.
Song Yao: “Your Highness, this humble servant wishes to accompany you hunting in the mountains again during the Summer Hunt.”
According to reliable intelligence, the Sixth Prince would bring Ruoxue along for the event. She merely needed to find the right moment to eliminate her.
Since Ruoxue had become entangled with royalty, Song Yao had to handle the matter personally. Having subordinates do it risked them being mistaken for assassins targeting imperial family members.
Sacrificing the organization she built from scratch to eliminate one traitor wasn’t worth attracting imperial scrutiny.
If she were the one to take action, it would be different. Who would investigate an assassin and trace it back to the Crown Princess? Even if she accidentally left behind clues, with Nangong Yi around, who would dare to investigate her?
Of course, this was just a hypothesis.
She would not carelessly leave any traces. When it came to cleanly eliminating a target, she was a professional.
“Alright.” Nangong Yi picked up a piece of tender fish meat, carefully removed the bones, and fed it to Song Yao.
“This prince has ordered the palace seamstresses to rush-make a set of riding and archery attire for you. What style would Yao Yao prefer?”
Song Yao replied, “Any style will do. This humble servant is not picky.” After finishing the fish fed to her, she hooked her pinky finger over the back of the man’s hand and asked curiously, “Your Highness, aren’t you going to ask why this humble servant suddenly changed her mind?”
Nangong Yi seemed to recall something, his expression turning cheerful. Instead of following her question, he guessed, “This prince guesses that Yao Yao doesn’t truly wish to hunt but rather wants to watch this prince’s bravery during the hunt from the sidelines.”
Song Yao: “…” She felt as if Nangong Yi were a worm in her belly—how else could he have known the exact excuse she had prepared, word for word?
Though puzzled, Song Yao did not forget her act. Blushing shyly, she brought her confusion to the surface: “How did Your Highness know what this humble servant was thinking?”
Nangong Yi chuckled silently but, not wanting to embarrass his highly theatrical Crown Princess, quickly composed himself and said seriously, “We are husband and wife, united as one, sharing a tacit understanding.”
Song Yao was no fool. She quickly realized that Nangong Yi had seen through her act but chose not to expose it. He had even anticipated her excuse and played along.
Her beautiful face twisted slightly—a mix of embarrassment, though not much, and more of indignation and frustration.
In an instant, a desire for revenge surged. Her mask of obedience cracked as she muttered under her breath, daring to utter bold, suggestive words only the two of them could hear.
“A few kisses make us united as one? Your Highness truly knows how to fool people! This humble servant has seen those ‘little people fighting’ pictures—clearly…”
“Mmph.” Her absurd remarks were cut short as a piece of fresh green vegetable was stuffed into her mouth.
“This prince was wrong. I won’t laugh at you next time. Save these words for when we’re alone, alright?” Nangong Yi’s apology was sincere, his tone gentle.
Noticing the man’s reddened earlobes, Song Yao’s frustration vanished. In high spirits, she smiled brightly but still ate the vegetable, pressing her advantage further.
“This humble servant wasn’t wrong… Mmph.” This time, a sweet-and-sour piece of meat was fed to her—a balanced mix of meat and vegetables.
A few days later, the Summer Hunt.
The weather was clear, with a gentle breeze—a perfect day for hunting in the mountains.
Song Yao sat in the luxurious and comfortable carriage of the Eastern Palace. Bored, she lifted the curtain and gazed at the azure sky, marveling at how the ancient imperial astronomers truly had some skill.
The ancients were ancient, not foolish.
This was something Song Yao had deeply understood over her twenty-three years.
Ru Shuang rode alongside on a tall horse. Seeing the carriage curtain lifted, she leaned down and asked, “Master, are you feeling bored?”
Song Yao denied it, idly fanning herself with a small round fan adorned with peonies and jewels. “Is there anything interesting outside?”
Ru Shuang nodded and whispered softly, “Throughout the journey, this servant has observed that the Mobei princess keeps glancing in your direction. She rolls her eyes so frequently they nearly reach the heavens, as if harboring strong opinions about you.”
Ru Shuang’s temperament mirrored her name—frost-like in demeanor. Yet prolonged interaction revealed this to be merely superficial.
The young maid possessed a richly active inner world, her speech style uniquely her own, carrying a humor akin to delivering jokes with complete deadpan expression.