“Consider it repayment,” Mu Fengqie said, looking at Xiujuan.
“I’ll repay you, I promise.” Xiujuan’s voice was steady, full of conviction.
Mu Fengqie helped her to her feet. “You rest for a few days. Don’t worry about anything. If your face still bothers you, come straight to me.”
“Mm.” Xiujuan was not the hollow woman she had been before. Where once she’d moved like someone empty and resigned, now her eyes shone with a bright, eager light—as if stars had appeared behind her pupils.
After Mu Fengqie left, she took out the file Zhu Fei had gathered on Li Jiaojiao and read through it. The more she read, the more she understood why Li Jiaojiao had been so hated back home.
It wasn’t rumors—there was a pattern. Li Jiaojiao had a habit of flirting with married men and with the sons of wealthy families. Women in that town spat at her reputation. Once she’d been caught in flagrante with a wealthy household’s master; the wife discovered them and drove the scandal home. That wife wasn’t meek—her husband had risen thanks to her—and she ruined Li Jiaojiao’s family business in retaliation, forcing them to throw the girl out.
By the time Mu Fengqie finished the dossier, she was smiling. So this was the sort of woman Li Jiaojiao was—detestable and reckless.
“Zhu Fei, spread these stories,” she told her. “Drip them out—one piece a day. Don’t release everything at once.”
After all, the cat-and-mouse game was more fun that way. Li Jiaojiao wanted her driven out of the capital—now Mu Fengqie wanted to see if the capital would swallow her whole.
Li Jiaojiao waited at the teahouse all day and Xiujuan never showed. She left with a sour expression.
She was furious—how dare Xiujuan lie to her! “Find out if Xiujuan is still in the capital,” she snarled at a maid. “I’ll make her pay.”
But news reached her before any confirmation on Xiujuan. Rumors about Li Jiaojiao were already spreading through the capital.
“How could this happen? Who’s sabotaging me?” Her face twisted with rage as she demanded of her maid, “How did these things get out? You promised me everything was buried.”
The maid hesitated. “Miss, I suspect either Princess Tianlin or that Xiujuan.”
“Think about it, miss,” she went on. “Princess Tianlin would know if we’d smeared her. And Xiujuan—five thousand taels is no small bribe. Maybe she decided to renege.”
The thought could be possible. But Li Jiaojiao trusted Mu Fengqie more than Xiujuan; Xiujuan didn’t have the means. Still—the payment had been due today and Xiujuan hadn’t shown.
Li Jiaojiao’s mind snapped cold with a new plan. Mu Fengqie already had evidence to ruin her—Mu Fengqie had to be silenced.
“Bring me some men. Teach Princess Tianlin a lesson,” she said, teeth bared.
If a mother lost her child, she’d be broken—insane even. One way to destroy someone was to drive her mad. Then whatever a madwoman said, who would believe?
She could not afford professional killers, only rough hands who knew how to use fists. They were hired.
That evening, as Mu Fengqie went out again, she felt a tail. Zhu Fei felt it too, but neither made a move. They slowed their pace and slipped into a narrow, deserted lane.
“Something’s off,” one of the tailing men muttered, scratching his head. “Why’s our boss worried?”
“It’s nothing—just two women,” the leader sneered. “What’s there to be afraid of?” The pay for this job had been fat—on one condition: they had to make the woman go mad. Two targets changed little; if anything, they could squeeze more from whoever hired them once the job was done.
They crept through alleys, alert. When the lane grew empty, they paused.
“Search everywhere. They’re close. They’re hiding.” The leader scanned the shadows.
Perched on a wall, Mu Fengqie and Zhu Fei watched them fumble about without a twitch.
“You looking for us?” Zhu Fei dropped from the wall and walked toward them, calm as a blade. The men went slack with surprise.
“Boys, take them,” the leader said with a leer. His eyes roved over the two women. “They’re pretty—let’s have some fun while we’re at it.”
Zhu Fei’s face hardened at the lecherous look. Mu Fengqie turned her head away. “Keep one alive,” Mu Fengqie ordered quietly. “I want to know who sent you.”
She already had her suspicions—Li Jiaojiao. Dumb and vicious. Hopeless.
The thugs laughed at Mu Fengqie’s insolence. “You heard them? Two girls talking big. Think they can take us?”
“Yeah—how would they? With their mouths?” another jeered, and the group had a brutal, mirthless laugh.
A killing intent rose off Zhu Fei like steam. “You’re asking for death,” she said.
The men didn’t take her seriously. They picked the smallest among them to step forward, thinking he’d be a quick show of force. He barely reached out before Zhu Fei’s palm met him.
The man flew back, crashing against the alley wall as if a gust had tossed him. The air dropped thin and still; the rest of the men gaped, stunned into silence.