He did not hesitate in the slightest. With a thought, he absorbed all the treasures, ledgers, and even a stone table and two stone chairs from the secret chamber into his space.
Finally, he looked at the now-empty secret chamber, then glanced back at the passageway. Without holding back, he even took all the books on the shelves, the brushes, ink, paper, inkstone, Duan inkstone, and purple sandalwood pen handles on the desk—everything went into his space.
By the time he left the study room, only an empty bookshelf and a bare desk remained; even a single stone on the floor had been taken.
Shen Chuchu’s boudoir was his last stop.
Her room had been arranged with extreme delicacy: pink gauze curtains, a carved bed, and a dressing table covered with rouge, powder, jewelry, and ornaments. Several paintings of ladies and flowers hung on the walls.
She was sound asleep, her face smeared with pearl powder, lips slightly puckered, mumbling in her sleep about “Crown Prince Consort” and “Gold Yuanbao,” with a thin string of drool hanging at the corner of her mouth. The sight was quite comical.
Shen Qinghuan frowned with disgust. He first cast a spell of “Drunken Spring Breeze” to ensure the girl would sleep like a log, not waking midway.
Then, he picked up the scissors from the desk. In the moonlight, they glinted coldly.
Grasping Shen Chuchu’s hair, he snipped it a few times, shaving her carefully-maintained long hair clean.
Looking at her bare head, the scalp a pale bluish-gray, resembling a freshly boiled egg, he couldn’t help but curl his lips into a smirk, his eyes glinting with mischief.
It still wasn’t enough. He pulled out a box of “hair removal cream” from his space and applied it to her eyebrows and eyelashes. As they fell off, she looked like a hairless little monk. Only then did Shen Qinghuan feel some satisfaction.
Next, he began ransacking the room’s valuables:
The jewelry on the dressing table, the fine clothing in the wardrobe, the private stash under the bed. Even the potted plant on the windowsill was taken.
Finally, looking at Shen Chuchu’s bald head and recalling her usual arrogance, he pulled out a bottle of cheap rouge from his space and drew a large turtle on her face, even coloring the turtle’s eyes red. The effect was both ridiculous and amusing.
After completing all this, Shen Qinghuan clapped his hands, satisfied as he surveyed the room, now both stripped bare and hilariously pranked, before turning to leave.
The entire Minister’s Residence—from the storage rooms to the granary, the kitchen to the inner courtyard, from Madam Wang’s yard to Madam Liu’s compound, then to Shen Chong’an’s study and Shen Chuchu’s boudoir—had been ransacked from top to bottom. Not a single valuable item, usable object, or even something that annoyed him had been left. Every item had been absorbed into his space, achieving a true state of “nothing left standing.”
Shen Qinghuan stood by the back wall of the Minister’s Residence, casting one last glance at the bright yet empty mansion, his eyes cold, but carrying a trace of unnoticeable satisfaction.
He could imagine how Shen Chong’an, Madam Wang, Madam Liu, and Shen Chuchu would panic and fume when they woke up tomorrow morning, seeing their empty mansion and the pranks that had been played. Just thinking about it brought him relief.
He pushed off with his toes, his figure drifting like willow fluff over the wall. After a few leaps, he disappeared into the night, leaving behind the sleeping servants and the Minister’s Residence, about to witness a shocking “theft” at dawn.
By the time he returned to the inn, the sky had already begun to pale.
Shen Qinghuan silently climbed through the window into the private room, removed the pouch and gloves from his waist, carefully stored Shen Chong’an’s ledgers, and then sat cross-legged on the bed, letting his mind sink into his space.
Within the space, the spirit spring flowed gently, and the century-old lingzhi mushrooms still gleamed with luster.
The storage compartments contained gold and silver, jewels, silk and satin, ancient books and paintings, grains and supplements, all neatly organized. Even the firewood, oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar collected from the Minister’s Residence were arranged orderly in the corners.
Looking at the space full of “spoils,” Shen Qinghuan’s lips curved into a satisfied smile. All the repression and fatigue from recent days seemed to dissipate at that moment.
After a simple wash, he lay on the soft bed.
Outside, the sky gradually brightened, and small movements began in the inn’s main hall, but Shen Qinghuan paid no attention, closing his eyes and quickly falling into a deep sleep.
In his dream, he saw Shen Chong’an’s family discovering their ransacked mansion and being pranked, unable to hold back laughter, sleeping more soundly than ever.
Meanwhile, in the Minister’s Residence, at the break of dawn, the first to wake was the servant guarding the courtyard gate.
He opened his eyes groggily and found himself lying on the ground, sore all over. Looking around, he saw other servants and maids also sprawled across the courtyard, sleeping soundly.
He was alarmed, hurriedly getting up to call out, but realized the entire mansion was eerily silent. The usual sounds of maids sweeping and servants talking were completely absent.
His heart sank as he rushed inside. Almost immediately, he was terrified.
The storeroom doors were wide open, completely empty, dust covering the floor. The granary doors were also open, not a single grain left.
The kitchen was spotless, gleaming as if it had been polished. All pots, pans, oil, salt, soy sauce, and even firewood had vanished.
“It’s bad!
We’ve been robbed!
Everything in the mansion is gone!”
The servants’ screams pierced the morning calm.
Those who were sleeping were awakened in shock. Madam Wang, Madam Liu, Shen Chong’an, and Shen Chuchu woke one after another, and upon seeing their situation, chaos erupted.
Madam Wang woke up feeling unbearably itchy, scratching herself until red marks appeared all over her body. Looking at her empty room, with jewelry, clothes, and silver notes all gone, she screamed: “My jewels!
My silver notes!
Who stole my things?!”
Madam Liu woke and touched her eyebrows—there was nothing. Looking into the mirror, she realized her eyebrows and hair at the temples were gone, screaming in horror: “My hair!
My eyebrows!
How did I become like this?!”
Shen Chong’an woke to see his uneven beard and disheveled hair, shaking with anger. Rushing into the study, he found the bookshelves empty, the desk bare, and the treasures and ledgers from the secret chamber gone. He almost fainted: “My treasures!
My ledgers!
Who did this?!”
The worst off was Shen Chuchu. Upon waking, she felt a chill on her scalp. Touching her head, she realized her hair was gone. Looking in the mirror, she saw a large turtle drawn on her face, with her eyebrows and eyelashes missing. She looked utterly hideous.
She screamed, fainted, then woke to cry and wail, nearly overturning the only remaining table in the room.
The entire Minister’s Residence descended into chaos, cries, anger, and screams echoing incessantly, drawing many curious onlookers.