At the hour of the rooster's crow, most people were just rising, but this morning the military camp was in utter chaos.
To the left, an assassin had appeared and burned the reserve rations. To the right, a wandering sorcerer, shouting of an impending disaster, insisted on entering the camp to observe. Before the sorcerer could be driven away, a flock of chickens had squeezed in from the south, and a pack of wolves dogs came rushing from the north. The entire morning, the camp was in a frenzy.
Yet, despite this commotion, Song Qingchao remained undisturbed. The sun had risen high when she reluctantly opened her eyes. Half her face was buried in the quilt. With her eyes closed, she reached out to her side. Her fingers traced the sheet inch by inch. Empty.
Song Qingchao breathed a sigh of relief, then opened her eyes and turned her head to look at the vacant bed. Her fingers trembled as she touched her lips. Without looking in a mirror, she knew her mouth was swollen. She sighed with a hint of resentment, recalling the events of yesterday, and finally covered her flushed face with the quilt. She must have lost her mind to have spoken such audacious words to Bai You'an.
But thankfully, Bai You'an, though perhaps mad, had some restraint. Besides kissing her a couple of times, he hadn't done anything excessive. Yet, she had only intended to use him. While he was indeed handsome, that was no reason for her to yield. She had a career to pursue. Her family's revenge remained unavenged, and the nation was still in peril. She could not let love cloud her judgment.
With a "slap," she struck her own face. She finally felt more alert. When she called for someone to attend to her, she happened to glance at the fruits placed on the desk. She took the fruits and pretended nothing had happened. When the maid entered to help her with her hair, although she had some questions about Song Qingchao's lips, she was discreet and asked nothing.
"Why is it so noisy outside?" the maid asked, her hands still deftly styling Song Qingchao's hair. "Adjutant Feng is leading people in catching chickens."
"Catching chickens?" Song Qingchao couldn't help but repeat.
The maid then proceeded to truthfully recount the morning's events to Song Qingchao. Song Qingchao's mind went blank. She knew without a doubt that Bai You'an was behind it. He could have left quietly, but instead, he had to make such a spectacle that everyone knew... Song Qingchao helplessly reached up to her forehead. She had to admit, Bai You'an's calming incense was indeed effective.
"Is Madam feeling unwell? Shall I call for a physician?" Before Song Qingchao could answer, Feng Shaocheng burst into her tent.
"Chaochao, you're awake!" Though he rushed in, his voice was as gentle as ever, as if "gentleness" were etched into his very bones. "It's good that you're alright. I was worried for a long time."
Song Qingchao looked at him through the bronze mirror. Dark circles were visible beneath his deep-set eyes, and his usually neat hair had a few chicken feathers sticking out. Feng Shaocheng seemed to notice his dishevelment and quickly smoothed his hair with his hand, then a perfect smile curved his lips. Even such an ungraceful movement, performed by Feng Shaocheng, was exceedingly elegant. Every action he took was as if measured by a ruler, neither more nor less, always mindful of the bearing of a noble young master.
However, Song Qingchao did not dwell on this matter. "Why don't I see Yingying?"
"Ah, that." Feng Shaocheng smiled, but the gentleness in his eyes vanished. "I've punished her with menial labor. She doesn't even know her mistress's preferences, so she should be disciplined properly." As he spoke, he signaled for the maid to withdraw. He then took the hairpin himself and, facing the bronze mirror, gently inserted it into Song Qingchao's styled hair.
"Beautiful." Song Qingchao carefully examined herself in the mirror, then reached out to twist the hairpin. She truly found Feng Shaocheng displeasing in every way. But there was no help for it; the act had to continue.
"Her skillful hands are truly wasted on rough labor." Feng Shaocheng observed her with his hands behind his back. "She's not the only one with skillful hands. If you like, I'll find you a cook."
Song Qingchao lowered her eyes, her voice a little weak. "It's truly not Yingying's fault."
"I know," Feng Shaocheng mused. "But I cannot take that risk." He placed his hands on Song Qingchao's shoulders and said earnestly, "I cannot lose you."
Song Qingchao felt goosebumps rise all over her. "It's alright." She looked up. "Then can I go see her? After all, we were master and servant, and we've known each other for many years. But if you're unhappy, I don't have to go." Her words were flawless, paired with her moist eyes, and anyone who saw them would surely soften.
"Very well," Feng Shaocheng sighed with a smile. "I will have someone take you there, but you must promise me not to send her away."
Song Qingchao quickly nodded. She had been longing for such an opportunity. After a simple meal with Feng Shaocheng, he indeed sent someone to take her to find Su Yingying. He himself returned to busy himself with the "chicken-and-dog-jumping" affairs outside.
As Song Qingchao stepped out, she looked at the chaotic military camp and happily stretched her limbs. She, too, would go catch a "ji"! As she walked with the soldiers, anyone she encountered would stop whatever they were doing and respectfully greet her, "Miss Song." Song Qingchao returned their greetings. After all, they bore her no ill will, so there was no need for her to put on a stern face.
By the time she found Su Yingying, she had walked quite a distance. Song Qingchao once again marveled at Feng Shaocheng's ruthlessness. At this moment, Su Yingying was rolling up her sleeves and beating clothes in a wooden basin, her delicate hands frozen red, resembling pig trotters that had just been de-feathered with hot water. The water droplets splashed out from her beating had already formed a thin layer of ice on the ground. Su Yingying's mouth was also busy; judging by her demeanor, she was treating the clothes in her hands as if they were Song Qingchao.
Ignoring the soldiers' attempts to stop her, Song Qingchao gently "floated" over and grabbed Su Yingying's hands. "Poor thing."
Seeing that it was Song Qingchao, Su Yingying showed no pleasant expression and directly yanked her arm, causing Song Qingchao to stumble. Song Qingchao, being quite sensible, fell directly to the ground and, at the right moment, spat out a mouthful of blood. This sudden turn of events completely flustered the soldiers. One of them rushed off to fetch a physician.
Su Yingying also panicked, "I didn't use any force!"
Song Qingchao tilted her head, wiped her blood-stained lips with the back of her hand, and then, with her bloody hand, fiercely grabbed Su Yingying's skirt. She raised her head, a smile playing on her lips, and said like a ghost, "I know, but killing someone requires paying with one's life, do you understand?"
Su Yingying, terrified, kept backing away. She kicked over the water basin, splashing water onto herself, and stumbled to the ground, dragging Song Qingchao a few steps with her. "What are you doing!"