“Master—”
Yang Zhen’s voice was stern.
“Check the back of his head.”
At dawn, Hong Ning left the courtyard in a hurry, heading to the market to purchase supplies in preparation for what was to come.
She spent the entire day tending to errands and only returned at dusk.
By the time she stepped through the courtyard gate, the night sky had already begun to settle.
The rain had grown heavier, its rhythmic pattering filling the air.
A soft glow of candlelight spilled out from the rooms, and two lanterns swayed gently beneath the eaves, their flickering shadows dancing with the wind as rain fell in fine, silken threads.
The once bustling courtyard had now quieted considerably.
The two concubines, the dozen or so servants, and even the carriages were gone—likely sent away.
The remaining horses had probably been entrusted to a nearby farmstead, leaving only seven or eight men moving in and out of the rooms, carrying newly purchased furniture and supplies indoors.
At the top of the steps, Yang Zhen stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his white robe as pristine as freshly fallen snow.
Truly a noble son raised in luxury—even after just a few days, he had managed to settle in extravagantly.
Hong Ning found it amusing but unsurprising.
This man was a staunch nonbeliever, and his status was significant.
Even if his subordinates were terrified, they had no choice but to stay—after all, who would dare leave their master behind in such a place?
A rare opportunity had presented itself.
Since he had chosen to stay, he was as good as dead—but perhaps she could use him to her advantage.
Maybe, just maybe… she could even save his life.
A chill seeped through her skin as raindrops kissed her face.
Hong Ning smiled faintly, stepping forward as she greeted him.
“Young Master Yang hasn’t left yet?”
Yang Zhen looked down at her from above.
He did not respond.
Hong Ning didn’t press further and instead headed toward her room.
But, as expected, Yang Zhen called her back.
“What’s going on?”
With her back to him, Hong Ning’s lips curled slightly.
By the time she turned around, her expression was composed once more.
“You checked the back of his head,” she said.
“What did you find?”
Yang Zhen said nothing.
His piercing gaze fixed on her face, his scrutiny both casual and probing.
Hong Ning remained unfazed, calmly stepping up the stairs to stand beside him.
“Since we’re both staying here,” she said, “if anything happens, you can come to me.”
As she spoke, she ran her fingers along the wooden lattice of his bedroom window, glancing inside briefly.
Any proper woman would know better than to deliberately seek out a man’s company, let alone peer into his quarters.
Yet Yang Zhen did not sneer at her.
Instead, his gaze remained fixed on her hand, his expression unreadable.
“Then tell me,” he said coolly.
“What kind of weapon could do such a thing?”
“There’s a small, narrow wound on the back of his head.”
Hong Ning kept her fingers resting on the wooden frame, her gaze avoiding his.
“But there’s something else you may not know.”
She paused for a moment, then added,
“His brain has been completely drained.”
Yang Zhen stiffened.
A flicker of shock crossed his features.
“Could it be the work of some venomous creature—a snake or an insect?”
Explaining supernatural matters to a skeptic was pointless.
Hong Ning wouldn’t make such a foolish mistake.
“For now, I don’t know either.”
She finally let go of the window frame, stepping away.
“But if something happens and you find yourself in danger, you should call for me.”
A trace of amusement flickered in Yang Zhen’s eyes.
A woman, offering to protect him?
He glanced toward the high walls, his expression unreadable.
“You only arrived yesterday.”
Hong Ning admitted without hesitation,
“Yes.”
“But last night, it only claimed Wang Hu’s life.”
“That’s why you’re still alive.”
Yang Zhen let out a cold, amused laugh.
“If not for your arrival, I might have been the one to die.”
Hong Ning understood his meaning and lifted her gaze.
“I warned you all to leave, but you insisted on staying.”
“So the one responsible for Wang Hu’s death isn’t me.”
She arched a brow.
“I dared to come here alone because I was prepared.”
“I know my own limits.”
“Compared to those who overestimate themselves and drag others down with them, tell me, Young Master Yang—who do you think is truly at fault?”
She had been sharp-tongued from the start, and Yang Zhen had already developed a poor opinion of her.
Hearing her words now, his expression darkened even further.
For a moment, he was on the verge of anger—but she was a woman.
To argue with her would be beneath him.
Besides, she wasn’t wrong.
It was his own stubbornness that had cost Wang Hu his life.
Yang Zhen forced down his temper, his lips pressing into a tight line as he remained silent.
Hong Ning, unbothered, simply said,
“Young Master Yang, be careful. I’m heading back to my room.”
This woman was nothing but sharp edges and biting words, offering no softness, no charm, and certainly nothing pitiable.
Since Yang Zhen already disliked her, he saw no reason to pay any attention to her movements.
With a curt nod, he replied indifferently,
“You should be careful too.”
Hong Ning smiled faintly, then descended the steps at an unhurried pace.
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