Song Qingchao winked playfully.
Leaning back slightly, she said, "I think you're thinking of more than just me."
Bai You'an chuckled indulgently, his hand cupping her cheek, his index finger lightly tracing her skin. "Can I kiss you?"
"Can you kiss me?"
Song Qingchao wore a teasing expression.
Then, she tiptoed and lightly brushed her lips against the corner of his.
The kiss was so brief she couldn't savor its taste.
Bai You'an, dissatisfied, pulled her into his embrace. His long fingers slid along her waist, a gentle tug drawing her into his arms.
"Serious matters are more important."
Song Qingchao turned her face slightly, but the tickle behind her ear already made her entire body itch.
"Such as?"
Bai You'an asked softly, his chin resting on the top of her head, rubbing back and forth.
"Such as, that child?"
"That child..." Bai You'an murmured, his voice filled with tenderness. "Xiang Yunling and Lin Tingwan are both vying to raise him, though Chang Pinghe remains very calm about it."
"And what does Chang Pinghe say?"
"Chang Pinghe's idea is for them to raise the child together, and incidentally help them foster their relationship."
"And then?" Song Qingchao tilted her head, pushing out from his neck.
Whether from suppressed emotion or shyness, a blush spread across her entire face.
"Then they started fighting."
Song Qingchao thought it made sense.
The child was in poor health and would undoubtedly need constant medical attention.
Although Lin Tingwan was knowledgeable in medicine, Xiang Yunling was more adept at the child's nurturing.
However, in terms of subsequent upbringing, the Lin family was wealthy, and a child would clearly receive better development in such a privileged environment.
Song Qingchao sighed.
It would be a beautiful thing if these two, like a pair of bickering lovers, could reconcile through the bond of their child.
"Are we done with serious matters?"
Song Qingchao tilted her head slightly. "No, next we need to attend to serious business."
Bai You'an raised an eyebrow, saying nothing, and complied with Song Qingchao's wishes.
"Let's go, we're going to the Chang family."
"Why go again?" Bai You'an was also a little curious.
Song Qingchao withdrew from Bai You'an's embrace, stretched her joints, and then scaled the city wall. As she adjusted the nine-claw hook in her hand, she called out, "If you don't cut the weeds at the root, they'll grow back with the spring breeze."
She winked at Bai You'an. "I need to deliver the final blow, coming with me?"
Bai You'an's eyes held a hint of laziness, but his gaze was filled with interest.
He stepped forward, directly cupping the back of Song Qingchao's knees with one hand, and took the nine-claw hook from her with the other.
He tilted his head back, a carefree smile on his face. "Hold on tight."
Song Qingchao looked down, her right arm encircling his neck.
Then, Bai You'an lifted her into the air.
She placed her left hand on his right shoulder. Despite the thick clothing, she could still feel his heartbeat.
"Let's go."
Holding each other, they leaped from the city tower.
With one hand supporting her and the other gripping the nine-claw hook, Bai You'an swung forward effortlessly.
Their hair whipped together in the wind, and their heartbeats quickened.
Just before landing, Bai You'an cushioned their descent.
But he still held Song Qingchao in his arms.
"Let me down."
Song Qingchao hugged him with one arm, while her other hand worked to untangle her hair.
Bai You'an turned, reeled in the nine-claw hook, and handed it back to Song Qingchao.
"What are you doing?" Song Qingchao asked, puzzled.
"Miss Song is frail and sickly, so it's better if I carry her the rest of the way."
With that, Bai You'an slid his right hand under Song Qingchao's legs and switched to a princess carry.
This move genuinely surprised Song Qingchao, but she felt completely at ease with Bai You'an.
It seemed to be this way always. No matter what this man did, he never harmed her, nor did he pursue any so-called goals at her expense.
His tenderness and consideration emanated from his very core; they were genuine.
"Chaochao."
"Hmm?" Song Qingchao snapped back to attention and looked up at him. "What is it?"
"Help me with my glasses."
Perhaps it was the cold winter night, or the strenuous running, but the glasses perched on his high nose bridge were beginning to slide down.
It lent him a peculiar kind of beauty.
Song Qingchao reached out, her index finger gently pushing the frame upwards on his nose bridge.
As she withdrew her hand, he lightly pecked her fingertip.
Song Qingchao was momentarily flustered.
She hastily pulled her hand back, hooking his finger into her palm.
Bai You'an, on the other hand, was quite pleased.
Song Qingchao, feeling a surge of embarrassed anger, balled her fist and lightly punched Bai You'an's chest, causing him to let out a muffled laugh.
"Alright, it was my fault."
He stopped teasing her and instead cautioned Song Qingchao to wrap her cloak tighter.
Moved by his concern, Song Qingchao decided not to press the matter further.
Only her flushed ears betrayed her true feelings.
They skillfully crept into Old Chang's room.
One could either say their martial arts were too advanced, or that Old Chang slept too soundly.
They had been inside for a long time, yet no one in the Chang residence had discovered them.
Song Qingchao poured herself a cup of tea.
Then, holding the cup by its rim between her index finger and thumb, she walked to the bedside where Old Chang slept.
She bent down, looking at the old man's beard puffing in and out with his breath, and thought of the phrase "old fogey who relies on his age."
Recalling the old man's actions, although he wasn't the direct culprit for people's infections, he couldn't escape responsibility for the spread of the epidemic.
Song Qingchao coldly extended the hand holding the teacup, then with a gentle flick of her wrist, the cold tea cascaded out, splashing all over Old Chang's face and slowly soaking into his neck and collar.
Startled, Old Chang’s eyes flew open, and he flailed his hands across his face.
He shouted, "Help! Help!"
Song Qingchao ignored him, simply releasing her fingers from the cup's rim.
The cup dropped freely, landing directly on Old Chang's nose.
The pain made Old Chang clutch his nose, and crimson blood began to gush from between his fingers.
He kicked his powerless legs backward, finally leaning against the far side of the bed.
Despite his stuffed nose, he stubbornly shouted, "Help!"
Song Qingchao drew a dagger from her sleeve and twirled it in her hand, watching as if it were a show.
With a creak, the door was pushed open from the outside.
The bright moonlight seeped in through the gap, casting a fine beam of light directly onto Song Qingchao's face.
Old Chang, thinking he had been rescued, yelled, "Kill her! Kill her quickly!"
The light grew larger, then smaller.
Song Qingchao's face flickered in and out of visibility.
The knife in her hand flew out, grazing the ear of the approaching person and embedding itself firmly into the tightly shut door panel.
After a clang, a thud followed.
Upon seeing the person who had entered, Old Chang was so terrified that he tumbled to the floor.
"You... what do you want to do!"