Even after night fell, the matter still weighed on Tong Anying’s mind.
Twirling a strand of hair around her finger, she asked: System, why do they want to assassinate Prince Yong’s Heir in the first place?
The System replied: Probably because of this, that, and the other thing.
Tong Anying: ?
She bolted upright. System, you’re seriously slacking on the job.
The System defended itself righteously: I’m an Entertainment and Gossip System, not an Assassin Creed System!
Tong Anying nodded to herself. Fair point.
She laid back down and pulled up the covers.
In the dead of night, however, she jolted awake, startled out of her wits by a dream of a bloody, unrecognizable face.
Tong Anying wiped a sheen of cold sweat from her brow, her heart hammering against her ribs like a runaway drum. Could that gory face have belonged to Prince Yong’s Heir?
Rumor had it that Prince Yong and his consort had both perished years ago, their bodies never even recovered. Now, the entire princely bloodline rested solely upon this young heir’s shoulders.
It would be genuinely pitiful if he died just like that.
Maybe, she should think of a way to pass him a warning?
Having tossed and turned all night, Tong Anying sat before the bronze mirror the next morning looking like a haggard giant panda.
The “panda” let out a massive yawn, tears welling at the corners of her eyes. Her sleepy head bobbed to one side, only for Yingtao to gently straighten it back up.
Yingtao chuckled softly, “Miss, if you keep nodding off like this, I can’t braid your hair properly.”
Tong Anying nodded groggily. “I’ll be good. I’m good.”
Her voice was muffled and slurred with sleep. Yingtao beamed, her hands moving even more briskly, completely charmed by her young mistress’s adorable antics.
Yawning the entire way, Tong Anying shuffled out through the courtyard gates.
Tong Fengye gasped loudly: “Whoa! I didn’t realize our manor was housing exotic beasts!”
Tong Anying: “?”
Clenching her tiny fists, she chanted internally, He’s my blood brother, he’s my blood brother, he’s my blood brother, while stomping aggressively toward the front gate.
“Fourth Sister?”
Tong Fengye hurried to catch up, leaning right into her field of vision and blinking playfully with an utterly punchable grin.
I want to punch him so bad.
A sudden chill shot straight down Tong Fengye’s spine, making him flinch.
He instantly snapped to attention, though a trace of hurt crossed his face. Why on earth does Fourth Sister want to beat me up?
Once inside the carriage, Tong Anying slumped against Tong Fengye’s shoulder and drifted straight to sleep. Watching his sister’s peaceful sleeping face, Tong Fengye felt all his protective elder-brother pride rush right back.
Before they even reached the Imperial Academy, Tong Anying fluttered awake.
She rubbed her eyes, instantly morphing back into the cute, innocent Fourth Miss of the Marquisate.
Tilting her head, she probed slyly, “Third Brother, do you know how old Prince Yong’s Heir is this year?”
Tong Fengye thought about it for a moment. “About a year older than you. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.”
Tong Fengye eyed her skeptically. Yesterday she was calling him a walking jinx, and today she was suddenly curious?
Tong Anying pressed on, “Doesn’t the Heir study at the Imperial Academy too?”
If he attended the academy, things would be a breeze: she could simply shove a warning note into his hand and bolt.
“His Majesty shared a close bond with the late Prince Yong,” Tong Fengye explained patiently. “After the Prince and Consort passed away, His Majesty took pity on the young heir and granted him the special privilege of studying in the palace alongside the Crown Prince.”
Tong Anying’s face fell in disappointment. “Oh.”
At this rate, who could even tell if he’s a princely heir or an actual imperial prince?
Tong Fengye: “!”
Little Sister, filter your thoughts! That’s practically treasonous!
Fortunately, Tong Anying remained quiet and well-behaved for the rest of the ride, allowing Tong Fengye to breathe a quiet sigh of relief.
Any more of this, and he’d have a full head of gray hair before turning twenty.
As soon as they stepped down from the carriage, Feng Chu spotted them and jogged over briskly.
Throwing an arm familiarly over Tong Fengye’s shoulder, Feng Chu grinned. “Are we riding again today?”
Tong Fengye brushed his hand off with utter distaste.
Tong Anying piped up, “No riding today.”
Feng Chu looked crestfallen. “Why not?”
“Because I have far more important business to attend to.”
Chest puffed out and chin held high, Tong Anying strutted past them.
Trailing behind, Feng Chu and Tong Fengye exchanged a puzzled glance. What ‘important business’?
Tong Fengye stayed on edge all morning, but Tong Anying remained a model student throughout class.
By dismissal, Tong Fengye had completely brushed the matter aside.
He called out toward the driver, “A’shu, let’s head out.”
“Right away, Young Mas—”
A’shu’s voice cut off abruptly.
Tong Fengye frowned. “What’s—”
Before he could finish, a familiar figure dove right into the carriage cabin.
Feng Chu unceremoniously plopped onto the padded seat. Tong Fengye immediately raised his boot to kick him out. “This is the Marquisate’s carriage!”
Nursing his behind, Feng Chu protested, “I know that! Why else do you think I jumped in?”
“You shameless—”
“My insufferable stepmother came to pick me up again,” Feng Chu mumbled, his tone turning sullen. “I don’t want to ride with her.”
Seeing his dejected look, Tong Fengye swallowed his retort. “Just remember to pay your fare.”
Feng Chu instantly broke into a grin. “You got it!”
His face shifted so quickly that Tong Fengye couldn’t help suspecting the misery had been entirely performative.
Just then, Tong Anying shifted. Assuming she was about to shove him out, Feng Chu opened his mouth with a prepared excuse, only for Tong Anying to simply thrust an open palm right under his nose.
Her wide, round eyes blinked expectantly. “Can I have that fare?”
Feng Chu: “?”
Without a word, Feng Chu unhooked his embroidered coin pouch and dumped the entire thing into her hands.
Holding the heavy pouch full of silver, Tong Anying was thrilled.
Midway through their journey, she demanded to be let off and skipped away with Feng Chu’s money to go shopping.
Feng Chu: “?”
Watching her skip off, Tong Fengye shook his head with an affectionate sigh. “Fourth Sister really can’t hold onto money for the life of her.”
After stepping down from the carriage, Tong Anying marched purposefully past the Bazhen Pavilion.
The shopkeeper stared in bewilderment. With the Fourth Miss looking so deadly focused and deadpan serious, was she on her way to stage a rebellion?
Tong Anying stopped at a vendor’s stall to buy a sturdy wooden slingshot, followed by a sheet of high-grade Xuan paper and a charcoal stick.
Armed and ready, she set off toward Prince Yong’s Manor.
The grand residence sat right at the terminus of East-West Avenue.
Tong Anying glanced up at the pair of towering stone lions guarding the main gates. The manor was eerily quiet, with almost no foot traffic in the surrounding streets.
It was only when she circled around to the back wall that she realized something startling: Prince Yong’s Manor was separated from her own Marquisate by merely a single street.
Tong Anying: “?”
Gathering several smooth pebbles from the ground, she wrapped them tightly inside strips of paper. She notched the first stone, drew the slingshot back with all her might, raised her chin high, and pulled until her fingertips turned pale white.
Twang!
The first paper bundle cleared the wall cleanly, landing inside the courtyard.
Then came the second, the third, and the fourth.
Tong Anying fired four rounds in quick succession until her little arm gave out from exhaustion.
Every slip of paper bore the exact same warning message, but she had sent multiples just in case a careless servant swept one away with the garden leaves.
Puffing her cheeks out, she shook out her sore wrist, stuffed the slingshot into her sleeve, and skipped away in high spirits.
She never noticed the quiet gaze watching her from above.
Si Chen gathered up all the paper bundles from the lawn and respectfully presented them to Xue Lin.
Xue Lin smoothed them open one by one. By the time he reached the last one, the corners of his lips curled into an amused, involuntary smile.
“Your Highness?”
Xue Lin angled the paper toward Si Chen.
Si Chen’s eyes widened in shock. How on earth did the Marquisate’s Fourth Young Lady know someone was planning an assassination? He asked hesitantly, “Your Highness, should we believe this?”
The image of that jaunty, skipping figure danced across Xue Lin’s mind.
“We believe it.”
“Understood. This subordinate will dispose of these scraps at once.”
Xue Lin’s slender fingers closed tightly around the crumpled papers, pulling them back out of reach.
Si Chen: “?”
Delighted with her good deed, Tong Anying hitched up her skirts and hummed all the way back to the Marquisate, only to find a commotion gathered right outside the gates.
Standing on her tiptoes, she spotted Feng Chu being held firmly on both sides by two burly footmen.
Feng Chu sneered cold contempt. “What, tired of playing the doting mother?”
Standing a short distance away was his stepmother, Madame Yang, dabbing her eyes with a delicate silk handkerchief. “Chu’er, though I am only your stepmother, how can you speak so cruelly? Just a few days ago, you were so well-behaved. Did someone whisper poison into your ear?”
Madame Yang choked back a pathetic sob, unable to go on.
The gathered onlookers murmured in hushed speculation, their whispers creeping dangerously close to implicating the Marquisate.
Feng Chu held his head high, refusing to yield. “Save your pathetic passive-aggressive routine! The only reason I played along before was that I hadn’t seen through your viper’s heart yet. Don’t bother twisting your words to smear others!”
“Chu’er, you truly have been corrupted by bad company!”
The gates descended into total chaos. Just then, Su Zhouyue stepped outside. She glanced coolly at Madame Yang. While she didn’t know the Marchioness of Zhongyong particularly well, it took no genius to see that the woman was using their Marquisate’s doorstep to stage her family drama.
Su Zhouyue said smoothly, “A child’s heart is made of flesh, Madame. If you treat him with genuine love, he will know it in his heart.”
Madame Yang stiffened, sniffling aggrievedly, “Clearly, he does not! The Marquis entrusted him to my care, yet I’ve spoiled him into such an unruly wretch. How am I to face the Marquis when he returns?”
With that, her tears cascaded once more.
Tong Anying watched the show with wide, fascinated eyes.
System, what’s her deal?
The Marquis of Zhongyong returns to the capital today. She already dispatched her own biological son to receive him at the city gates.
Ah, I get it! She’s deliberately provoking Feng Chu. The more rebellious and disgraced Feng Chu looks right now, the more outstanding and filial her own golden boy will appear by contrast!
Brilliant deduction, Host! I didn’t even think that far I was just here for the tea.
Wait, there’s more tea?
Of course! The Marquis is about to arrive at the city gates, but her precious son is currently still tangled up under the sheets at a brothel, utterly reluctant to crawl out of his lover’s bed.
Talk about mud that refuses to stick to the wall.
Suddenly, Madame Yang gasped in horror.
Tong Anying snapped her gaze back over, only to see Feng Chu had commandeered one of the Marquisate’s tethered horses and was galloping full tilt toward the city gates.