Ci’er noticed that ever since Xie Chen visited that day, the way Aunt Cui looked at her had completely changed.
In the past, her politeness had been born of an appreciation for Ci’er’s beauty and usefulness.
Now, it was outright flattery.
She treated Ci’er like a plump hen about to lay a golden egg, holding her carefully, terrified she might fly away.
“Ci’er, from now on, you don’t need to dirty your hands with sweeping the courtyard or taking the night shifts.
Doing some light chores will be enough,” Aunt Cui said, her face blooming into a smile the moment she saw her.
“If anyone dares to gossip about you behind your back or give you an attitude, just come tell me.
I’ll deal with them for you.”
Ci’er lowered her head and agreed, but her mind was as clear as a mirror.
This aunt was as shrewd as a monkey.
Seeing that the Princely Heir was willing to speak with her, Aunt Cui was simply burning incense early, betting that Ci’er would become a noble in the future.
Receiving Aunt Cui’s undivided favoritism naturally made Ci’er the target of everyone in the maid selection office.
Wherever she went, eyes rolled.
The behind-the-back whispers and petty tricks were constant.
Ci’er pretended not to notice.
In the Stone Prison, even the rats had been disgusted by her.
What were these few young girls compared to that?
Every day, after finishing her allotted work, she would close her door, prick up her ears, and wait for any movement.
However, the first four incidents of the Painted Skin Case had occurred with intervals of exactly seven days, more punctual than the distribution of official salaries.
This time, seven days passed, and then another seven, yet no new case emerged.
Did something happen to the killer?
Or had her guess been right—was the killer lying low to avoid drawing attention?
Or perhaps Xie Chen had listened to her words and used some method to prevent the killer from making a move?
Before she could figure it out, something happened at the maid selection office.
First, Cui Wei’s window paper was poked through, leaving a large man’s footprint beneath the windowsill.
Aunt Cui took only one look before wiping the print away with her foot.
“Probably some gossip trying to eavesdrop,” she said, brushing it off lightly and ordering an older servant woman to paste new paper over the window.
Next, two pieces of clothing drying in the backyard went missing.
They weren’t made of expensive material, but they happened to be the girls’ undergarments.
Even more bizarre was the kitchen incident.
The cook swore up and down that she had tightly covered two braised chickens before bed, only to find a pile of cleanly picked bones in the morning.
The bite marks on the bones didn’t look like they belonged to a cat or dog; they looked human.
There was even a greasy, half-wiped handprint on the stove.
Yet, after searching high and low, they only caught a thieving weasel, so skinny it was merely skin and bones.
Where was the person?
These weren’t major incidents, but with the Painted Skin Case hanging over their heads, they were enough.
Every girl was terrified, unable to sleep peacefully at night.
A Tao was afraid of ghosts.
She found a yellow talisman from who-knows-where, stuck it to the door lintel, and dragged Ci’er to pray to it every morning and night.
Ci’er was much quieter than the rest of them.
Every night, she slept fully clothed, slipping her dagger under her pillow.
With the lamp extinguished, she kept her eyes open and listened.
She waited for many nights, and finally, it came.
At a quarter to midnight, the sound of the night watchman’s clapper faded away.
From the other side of the courtyard wall came the faintest sound of a footstep.
Just one tap, like a cat’s paw touching the ground.
Ci’er opened her eyes.
She didn’t move, just stared straight at the bed canopy, pressing her breathing to be as light and slow as possible.
Soon, the sound landed at the base of the wall.
Listening closer, it seemed to have reached just outside her window.
She slowly sat up, pulled the dagger from under her pillow, and stepped barefoot onto the floor.
The gray brick floor was bitingly cold, but she felt nothing.
Pushing the scabbard open with her thumb, she walked to the window and quietly peered out.
In the moonlight, a dark figure stood perfectly still in the courtyard.
His posture was extremely focused, as if spying on something…
Ci’er held her breath, leaning forward slightly to get a better look.
Suddenly, the figure moved.
He didn’t flee.
Instead, he slowly turned his head, his cold gaze sweeping over, like a snake lurking in the dark, flicking its tongue.
Across a distance of twenty feet, Ci’er couldn’t see his face clearly, but she recognized his saber.
The scabbard was narrow and straight, engraved with dark patterns—the standard Windchaser Saber of the Embroidery Bureau’s Ti Qi.
She had seen it before, at Xie Yunjin’s waist and in Ying Qi’s hand.
Her heartbeat skipped a beat.
Her expression remained unchanged as she spoke in a low voice.
“From the Embroidery Bureau?”
The figure seemed startled.
He tilted his head as if confirming something, glanced at the window where Ci’er was hiding, then vaulted over the top of the wall.
In a few bounds, he vanished without a trace.
Ci’er slowly straightened her back, her palms slick with cold sweat.
Early the next morning, she had A Tao deliver a letter to Xie Yunjin.
“A Windchaser Saber scouted the maid selection office last night.
Is Second Master afraid I’ll run away, or that someone else will steal me?”
Xie Yunjin replied very quickly.
“It wasn’t me.”
Ci’er flipped the letter over and over, examining it.
“Just three words?
You could at least add that you’ve been wronged.”
From that day on, no more strange things happened at the maid selection office.
Instead, they were replaced by the round-the-clock stakeouts of the Embroidery Bureau’s Hidden Posts.
However, the Embroidery Bureau’s reputation was hardly better than that of the Painted Skin Ghost.
“Brocade Robe Officer, Brocade Robe Officer, when the Windchaser is drawn, there’s nowhere to hide.
Not a chicken or dog is left, hearts break in sorrow; at dawn you still must meet King Yan…” This folk song had been circulating in Luojing for years; everyone could hum a line or two.
Being targeted by Brocade Robe Officers made the girls even more panicked.
They only hoped to be quickly selected and sent into the mansion.
No matter how vicious the Painted Skin Ghost was, it wouldn’t dare break into the Nine-Bestowments Royal Mansion to commit crimes, would it?
Living in such fear, they finally made it to the end of the year.
After the twenty-fifth of the twelfth lunar month, their disciplinary lessons were halted, and their days suddenly grew relaxed.
On New Year’s Eve, a heavy snow fell on Luojing.
The maid selection office was blanketed in white overnight.
The older servant women who got up early to sweep the snow cursed under their breath, complaining about the muddy mess it would leave when it melted.
Ci’er, however, loved it.
She dragged a bamboo chair into the corridor and sat down, bundled in the padded cotton jacket Ms.
Cui had given her.
She watched the snowflakes dance and fall, covering the eaves, weighing down the bare branches, and blanketing the small courtyard that had confined her for three months.
Five years.
She hadn’t seen snow in five years.
The Stone Prison was deep underground, devoid of sunlight all year round.
She had almost forgotten what it felt like to have snow fall on her face.
“Why are you sitting here freezing, Miss?” A Tao brought out a charcoal brazier and set it by her feet.
“Hurry and warm up.
Be careful not to let your hands and feet go numb.”
The charcoal burned a bright red, the heat washing over her face and melting any snowflakes that fell too close.
Ci’er reached out to warm her hands, her fingertips slowly thawing out.
A Tao then pulled out a clay jar, presenting it to her like a treasure.
“Look at the good stuff I brought you, Miss.”
Ci’er popped the wooden stopper off the jar, and a sweet, fruity aroma hit her face.
The jar was packed to the brim with honey-preserved dried jujubes, bright red and glossy.
She used a bamboo skewer to pick one up and put it in her mouth.
It was so sweet it made her lips purse.
“Where did you get this?” she asked.
“Second Master sent it.” A Tao blinked and lowered her voice.
“They were handing out New Year goods from the kitchen today, but I was late and missed out.
Thinking about how weak you are, Miss, I brazenly went to ask Second Master.
Second Master said that since it’s the New Year, you should have something sweet, so he sent someone over with a jar.
He also included a message…
Let’s see, ‘The lingering winter will soon end, and spring is not far away.'”
Ci’er sucked on the dried jujube, a faint smile curling the corners of her lips.
The lingering winter will soon end, and spring is not far away.
Yes, the Prince Mansion’s selection would take place in the spring.
Xie Yunjin had been plotting for a long time, waiting for this exact day.
“Ci’er.” A soft call suddenly reached her ears.
Ci’er turned around and saw Cui Wei standing in the corridor.
She was already strikingly beautiful, but today, wearing a scarlet jacket, her features looked even more radiant and arrogant.
“Can I help you?” Ci’er didn’t offer a friendly expression.
Cui Wei crossed her arms and gave her a sidelong glance, a contemptuous smirk on her lips.
“The selection is right around the corner, yet you don’t look the least bit anxious.”
Ci’er smiled faintly.
“Anxious for what?
A desperate dog jumps the wall, a desperate person hangs from a beam.
A desperate beast gets the knife, and a desperate person makes a mistake that costs their life.”
Cui Wei choked for a moment, her jealousy souring even more.
“True.
You have Aunt Cui backing you and Nanny Wang thinking highly of you.
Naturally, you don’t have to agonize like the rest of us.”
Ci’er couldn’t be bothered to waste any more breath on her.
She grabbed A Tao’s arm and turned to head back to her room.
Cui Wei grew agitated and hurried forward to block her.
“What are you so smug about?
You’re just relying on someone’s favoritism.
Wait until you enter the Prince Mansion.
Once you lose those backers, let’s see how arrogant you can be.”
Ci’er raised an eyebrow, noncommittal.
“Move.”
“I heard the Young Master is a stickler for cleanliness.
Some people just reek of livestock—they shouldn’t taint the Princely Heir’s eyes.”
“Then you should wear mourning clothes to the selection.
I’m sure you’d take first place.”
“You—” Cui Wei’s face flushed bright red.
“What makes you think you’re so tough?”
“I just am.” Ci’er gathered her cuffs, glancing down at the red string on her wrist.
“You’d better stay away from me, lest I make you so mad you get sick and don’t have the Silver for medicine.”
Cui Wei stamped her foot in anger.
She wanted to keep arguing but was dragged away by her companion.
A Tao watched, dumbfounded.
“Miss, why is your mouth so poisonous?”
“Talent,” Ci’er replied.
That night, Aunt Cui organized several tables of food and wine, making a special exception for everyone to stay up late and ring in the New Year.
Once the Lantern Festival passed, they would enter the mansion to serve as maids.
From then on, they would be making a living right under their masters’ noses and would never have this kind of freedom again.
A large group of people sat around the main hall, warming themselves by the fire, cracking melon seeds, and chatting.
Ci’er didn’t join the festivities.
She sat alone in her wing room, facing a copper mirror, carefully drawing her eyebrows stroke by stroke.
She liked dressing herself up little by little like this.
It felt like piecing together a false mask, or mending a shattered piece of porcelain.
With every stroke, she added a layer of disguise, a degree of clarity.
It also constantly reminded her that while skin could be altered and names could be changed, what was carved into her bones and blood could never be erased.
As she lost herself in thought, the window lattice rattled softly.
A shadow flickered across the wall, and a dark figure vaulted through the window.
Ci’er’s hand paused in the middle of drawing her eyebrow.
From behind her came a cool, smiling voice.
“It’s New Year’s Eve.
Aren’t you going out to watch the fireworks?”
Ci’er didn’t turn around.
Speaking unhurriedly to the reflection in the mirror, she said, “You refuse to use the door and insist on climbing through the window.
If I suspected Second Master of being the Painted Skin Ghost, it wouldn’t be an unjust accusation, would it?”