A warehouse full of grain had vanished into thin air, and Master Song learned of this news very quickly.
He investigated in secret for many days without raising any alarm, yet still found no clues whatsoever. The tea shop manager stood to the side, answering cautiously: "Those beggars said the one who gave them money was a pretty young lady."
"Is that supposed to be a clue?" Master Song flicked his sleeve, and a cup of tea on the desk crashed to the ground with a sharp crack. His usually smiling face was now filled with viciousness: "Get out. Get out and find them. If you don't find that person, don't bother coming back."
The manager's legs trembled uncontrollably, but he still mustered the courage to say: "M-Master… you should look into that handkerchief—"
Before he could finish, he felt Master Song's even more oppressive gaze upon him. He swallowed nervously and stammered: "I-I-I'll get out. I'm getting out right now."
Only after the manager scrambled away in a panic did Master Song sit down wearily. These past few days, his mind had been consumed by the grain, and he hadn't had a single peaceful night's sleep.
He had barely settled down when he heard a knock at the door: "Who is it?"
"Master, Madam's headaches have flared up again these past two days. She asks that you come see her."
Master Song rubbed his brow wearily, bracing his hands on the chair for a long moment before saying tiredly: "Fine, I'll go see her now."
In her early years, Madam Song had been the top courtesan of the Yingge Pavilion. Over the years, she had taken great care of herself, and at over thirty, she remained as beautiful as ever. When Master Song arrived, he found her sitting on an embroidered stool, and she immediately beamed at the sight of him.
Hadn't she said she was ill? Master Song frowned instinctively, but seeing her radiant expression, he forced patience and asked: "Your maid said you had a headache. How are you feeling now?"
Madam Song's eyes flickered a few times. Her head didn't hurt at all—she had merely grown worried that her husband might stray since he hadn't visited her courtyard in days. But aloud she said: "A bit better. I've been sleeping a lot in bed these past two days, and I feel more comfortable now that I'm up."
She rubbed her temples with her hand, and seeing Master Song with his eyes closed, she added: "Has my lord been busy with something these past few days?"
Master Song had just sat down and was beginning to feel drowsy when he was reminded of the warehouse full of grain he had lost. Naturally, his tone was less than pleasant: "Nothing much. Just business."
He lay on the couch, stretching his legs out slightly, his tense body finally relaxing a little. As he closed his eyes, however, his mind was occupied with how he was going to explain things to the Niohuru family.
So much grain! Vanished into thin air for no reason at all.
Madam Song saw that her husband had come to her courtyard yet paid her no attention. She bit her lip in grievance before approaching him hesitantly: "My lord." Her voice was drawn out long, gentle and lilting, sweet enough to make one's teeth ache.
But Master Song's mind was nowhere near her, so he naturally took no notice.
The maids on the side exchanged surprised glances—never before had the master neglected the madam like this. Madam Song shot them a glare, then picked up a cup of tea from the table and swayed gracefully over to Master Song: "My lord, have some tea."
Master Song was too vexed by his thoughts to notice it was his wife. He assumed it was just some maid and waved his hand instinctively. Madam Song lost her grip, and the entire cup of hot tea spilled all over him, making him jump up in pain: "What are you doing?!"
Madam Song had never been yelled at like this since marrying him. Her eyes immediately reddened. With so many maids and servants in the room, she couldn't save face and felt her cheeks burn: "I…"
She bit her lip in grievance, tears welling in her eyes.
She picked up a handkerchief and stepped forward: "My lord, I didn't mean to—" His clothes were soaked through, and as he began pulling them off, she hurried forward to help.
But unexpectedly, a handkerchief fell from his clothes. The moment Madam Song saw it, her expression changed. She bent down to pick it up, determined to see which shameless woman was trying to seduce her husband.
It was a white handkerchief embroidered with bamboo. When she opened it, her previously sour expression immediately broke into a smile. She pouted playfully: "My lord, when did Lianxin embroider something for you again? She's fonder of you than she is of me, her own mother."
But Master Song's hands froze. He pointed at the handkerchief and asked: "You say Lianxin embroidered this?" Lianxin—Niohuru Lianxin, who had been sent to the Niohuru family as a young lady since birth.
"Stop pretending with me." Madam Song didn't notice her husband's grim expression. She shot him a playful glare before pointing at the handkerchief: "The way the thread is finished off at the end is different from others. I taught this technique to our daughter myself."
"No one else knows it."
But no sooner had she spoken than she saw her husband collapse onto the couch, his face deathly pale.
Startled, she rushed over, only to hear him muttering: "It's over. It's over."
No wonder it was bamboo. Wasn't bamboo Ling Zhu's greatest love?
"Miss, miss."
Song Xilou had been talking to the small green sprout. The sprout in her palm had grown to nearly half a palm's height, but at the sound of a human voice, it shrank back on its own before she could say anything.
"Coward," Song Xilou said, stroking her palm with affection.
Nanny Wu came running over, her face full of anxiety: "Miss, something has happened to the master."
Seeing that she didn't reply, she spoke again: "Miss? You don't know, but the Master seems to have gone mad. Several doctors have come and all said that the Master has been possessed by evil this time."
Song Xilou stroked the nearly withered orchid by the window, her back to Nanny Wu, yet her face bore an expression no one had ever seen: of course she knew why Master Song had gone mad—for so many years, he had been diligently earning money for others behind the scenes.
The key point was that the other party had stabbed him in the back from the shadows, yet he couldn't afford to burn bridges, after all, his precious daughter was still in their hands, and he still harbored the dream of seeing his daughter enter the royal family and elevate the Song name.
The orchid in her hand had only a sliver of life left, but Song Xilou's hand, which was about to pluck it out, stopped.
If someone was having sweet dreams, let them realize them first, and then destroy them.
Behind her, Nanny Wu saw that the young miss showed no expression, and felt relieved inside. She was a servant, and over the years, the Song family had treated the young miss as if she were picked up from the streets—she had seen it all with her own eyes.
It wasn't worth grieving for him, but she didn't say that out loud. Instead, she smiled and pulled something out from her bosom: "Miss, it's another gift from Young Master Zhao."
Young Master Zhao—Zhao Wenxuan. The family next door to the Song residence was a truly prominent household. Though also merchants, unlike the Song family, theirs bore the imperial character—they were imperial merchants.
He was the only man who had ever been good to Song Xilou. In her previous life, it had been the same—he suddenly showed her unconditional kindness, yet in the end, he was falsely accused and his entire clan was executed.
In Nanny Wu's hand was a sugar figurine, placed in a small sandalwood box the size of a palm. The little figure inside smiled with unrestrained arrogance, so lifelike it seemed to leap out—but Song Xilou never remembered smiling so boldly herself.
"Miss, look, doesn't this sugar figurine resemble you greatly?" Nanny Wu held the box with a gentle smile. The Zhao family was indeed a prominent household, but the Zhao Master and Madam had the kindest hearts, and Young Master Zhao had feelings for the young miss.
If the young miss could marry Young Master Zhao, she wouldn't have to endure this bitter life anymore.
With a "clatter," the box in her hand was shut. Song Xilou turned around: "Nanny, take it back to him. From now on, if anything else is sent over, refuse it all."
"But…" Nanny Wu clutched the box with a troubled expression, still wanting to persuade her: "It's just a sugar figurine, not worth much."
"Nanny—" Was it really about the sugar figurine? It was the sandalwood box. One look at the carving and it was clearly from Zhao Wenxuan's own hand. Things carved by Master Zhao were prized more highly than gold.
Seeing her anger, Nanny Wu reluctantly carried the box out the door.
"Nanny," she called out. Thinking the young miss had changed her mind, Nanny Wu turned around happily.
"If someone comes to redeem you in a couple of days, go with them."
Nanny Wu had been separated from her family during the famine years, and had served as a servant in the Song household for over a decade. With no children or relatives, who would possibly come to redeem her?
But the young miss had been going out frequently these past few days, and no one knew what she was planning. Nanny Wu opened her mouth to speak but ultimately left.
Song Xilou rubbed her brow, feeling a headache coming on at the thought of that person. How was she supposed to know that after giving him a tael of silver back then, she would meet him again?
Nanny Wu quickly forgot what the young miss had said. Little did she know that two days later, someone really did come to redeem her, claiming to be her own son. The work in her hands dropped to the floor. She would have to see which scoundrel dared to come deceive an old woman like her.
The young man was around twenty years old, with thick eyebrows and big eyes, muscles all over his body—one glance told you he wasn't someone to mess with. The words on her lips took a detour: "You… do you know me?"
"Mother—" Who would have thought that the man who just had a fierce look on his face would fall to his knees with a "thud." Nanny Wu stumbled back two steps, yet felt that this cry of "Mother" sounded so sweet.
"Mother, your son has been unfilial, finding you so late," he sobbed, tears streaming down his face in no time, and reached out to grab hold of her pant leg.
Nanny Wu was about to say "I'm not your mother," when the young man continued: "Mother, your son will redeem you with money right away." Her words were caught in her throat.
The young miss had said: "If someone comes to redeem you, go with them." Nanny Wu looked at the man kneeling at her feet with complicated feelings, then nodded.
And so, for ten taels of silver, Nanny Wu obtained her deed of sale and walked out of the Song family's gates with her so-called son.
Only after learning that Nanny Wu had left did Song Xilou feel at ease. She needed to leave without any lingering worries—if Nanny Wu stayed in the Song household, who knew how she would be ground down.
With Nanny Wu taken away, she could now do what she needed to do without looking over her shoulder.
Master Song lay in bed for half a month. Somehow, he suddenly seemed to come to his senses, got up, and sold off most of the family's assets.
The tea house, the cloth shop, the restaurant—everything that could be sold in a short time was converted into silver. After that, he began scouring everywhere for grain, clearly not intending to break with the Niohuru family.
He could only swallow his teeth and bear it.