Song Youyi’s fingers clenched into fists inside her sleeves.
Her breathing grew heavier, her chest rising and falling as if she was struggling to suppress her emotions.
After a long moment, she slowly loosened her fingers, a faint smile curling at the corner of her lips.
“Alright then.” Her voice was still its usual gentle tone.
“Since Big Brother says so, what more can this little sister say?”
She stood up, smoothing her skirt.
“I’ll head back first. I’ll send these clothes to be washed.”
She stepped forward, moving with light, graceful steps.
Song Ning caught a faint scent at the tip of his nose—medicine mixed with floral fragrance.
His face pressed against a soft yet not plump area—her chest—and the back of his head was held down by a delicate hand.
Song Youyi bent down, gently hugging his head. Her fingers threaded through his hair, slowly combing through it.
“If Big Brother needs anything, just come straight to your little sister,” her voice came from above, soft and tender.
“When I say ‘little sister,’ I mean me.” She cupped Song Ning’s face, her gaze falling on his slightly pressed lips.
“Not some random girl who shares your last name.”
Song Youyi stared at Song Ning’s lips, a surge of sadistic desire rising within her.
She wanted to bite down hard on that mouth, bite it until its owner admitted fault and promised never to call any other woman ‘little sister’ again.
Could any other woman become your little sister?
“Youyi, what’s wrong?” Song Ning asked with concern.
He felt like his sister was acting strange today.
Song Ning’s words snapped Song Youyi out of her fantasy.
She turned around, wrapped up the old clothes, and smiled:
“Nothing. Big Brother is so silly.”
With that, she flicked her skirt, stirring up a breeze, and walked toward the door.
Song Ning sat by the table, his fingers still resting on the edge, his expression a mix of confusion and helplessness.
“What’s up with this girl lately?”
“Why does everyone seem off these days?”
———
Song Youyi stepped out the door and stood in the corridor.
Sunlight fell on her face, illuminating her pale, beautiful features.
The faint smile still lingered on her lips, but it appeared particularly cold in the sunlight.
Her gaze darted toward the base of the window.
No one was there.
A cold smirk tugged at her lips. She turned and headed toward the side room, her head slightly raised, exuding a completely different aura from the one she had indoors.
It was the aura befitting the person in charge of the entire Song Mansion.
The side room’s door was slightly ajar. Without knocking or announcing herself, she pushed it open directly.
Xia Ling jumped up from her chair in fright, her handkerchief falling to the ground without her even bothering to pick it up.
Her face went pale, then flushed red. She stood there, not knowing where to put her hands, her voice small:
“Second… Second Young Lady.”
Xia Shuang leaned against the window, arms crossed over her sword, calmly watching Song Youyi.
Her expression didn’t change—no surprise, no panic, not even a trace of extra emotion.
She just watched, as if observing something unrelated to herself.
Song Youyi’s gaze lingered on Xia Shuang for a moment.
‘This mute maid is never afraid of me, and she’s skilled in martial arts. I actually have some admiration for her talent.’
Song Youyi shifted her focus to Xia Ling and said flatly:
“Walk me out. I have something to say to you.”
Xia Ling swallowed hard, lowered her head, and shuffled in small steps toward Song Youyi.
When she reached the door, she couldn’t help but glance back at Xia Shuang.
Xia Shuang’s expression remained the same.
Still holding her sword, she tilted her head slightly at Xia Ling, as if asking if she needed her to follow.
Xia Ling bit her lip and shook her head at her, then followed Song Youyi out the door.
The sunlight in the corridor was bright, dazzling her eyes.
She kept her head down, staring at her own shoe tips, step by step trailing behind Song Youyi, her mind a blank.
Song Youyi walked ahead in silence.
The quieter she was, the more nervous Xia Ling became.
They moved one after the other, through the winding corridor, past the moon-gate.
When they reached a farther spot, Song Youyi stopped.
She wiped the sweat from her forehead with her handkerchief and stood in a shaded area.
Xia Ling stopped too, standing three steps behind her, head down, afraid to meet her gaze.
Song Youyi looked around, making sure no one was nearby—this was a secluded spot.
She stared at Xia Ling, her gaze calm, and asked:
“Xia Ling, you’ve been with my big brother for a while, haven’t you?”
Xia Ling twisted her skirt with her fingers and replied:
“Yes, Second Young Lady. Since returning from Qingzhou, I’ve been following the young master. Many years now.”
Song Youyi nodded. Her eyes lingered on Xia Ling’s face for a moment, then suddenly sharpened:
“Then do you know what you should and shouldn’t do?!”
“Did you think I didn’t see you?!”
Xia Ling trembled in fright, lowering her head even further, her chin nearly touching her chest.
“I…” Her voice shook.
Song Youyi glared at her, her tone icy: “Fine, just fine. You dared to spy on my brother changing clothes?!”
“Is this how you take care of him?!”
At these words, Xia Ling looked up, her voice trembling: “I… I didn’t spy! I didn’t watch him change!”
“Don’t falsely accuse me! I didn’t peek at him changing!”
Song Youyi snorted coldly, fixing her gaze on Xia Ling: “I saw you by the window, silent and sneaky. Don’t tell me you had nothing on your mind.”
A breeze swept by, and Song Youyi’s lips curled into a faint smile as she savored the sight of Xia Ling trembling before her.
This little white flower in front of Song Ning had now turned a shade of black.
Xia Ling’s anger surged, and she mustered the courage to look Song Youyi in the eye:
“I… I did nothing wrong!”
“But you, Second Young Lady, have designs on the young master. I saw it! I saw everything!”
Song Youyi actually laughed out loud.
She patted Xia Ling’s shoulder, leaned in closer, and smiled: “Fine then, why don’t you go tell my big brother, okay?”
“Tell him what you just did. Tell him what I did in the carriage that day, okay? Hmm?”
She grinned: “You go talk, and I’ll talk too. I’ll say you spied on my brother, and I saw it with my own eyes.”
Xia Ling choked, too angry to speak. She puffed out her cheeks, clutching her pink skirt tightly.
Could she go and tell? Could she tell Song Ning? Song Youyi was the young master’s sister—she had no advantage at all.
In the end, the result would likely be that she’d never be allowed to serve the young master again.
“You… you clearly did those things, yet you’re trying to bite me back. You…” Xia Ling’s chest heaved with rage.
Song Youyi glanced at the other’s chest, then at her own, and realized that Xia Ling’s was significantly larger—compared to that, her own was barely a slight bulge.
“Hmph. Let me talk to my brother. We’ll see who he believes.” Song Youyi leaned down and blew a soft breath onto Xia Ling’s cheek, carrying the faint scent of medicine.
Xia Ling took a deep breath, stepped back, and asked warily:
“What do you want?”