Chapter 13: One Hundred Thousand Taels of Silver, Soldiers at the Door Thank you all for your support—here's an extra chapter!

“Tch!” Linglong sat up with a look of utter disdain, gazing at the dim ceiling of the tent as she spoke languidly, “I wonder, in the two years I’ve been away, if you’ve squandered my dowry on brothels.”
“Your little dowry was never even worth my attention!” Of course it was Feng Linglong—she had survived by the skin of her teeth, and yet silver was still all she cared about.
Linglong pouted. “Then return the hundred thousand taels you owe me, and let’s settle our accounts in silver, never to see each other again.”
“You captured Wang Shun, and the innkeeper promised you a hundred thousand taels, correct?” Qin Daofei asked.
Linglong nodded. “That’s right, a hundred thousand.”
“But then you brought assassins to burn down the Xiaoyao Manor branch in Suiye City. That manor house—someone offered fifty thousand taels for it. Let’s consider it fifty thousand. And when the assassins came to kill you, I risked my life to save you. What price do you place on your own life, and what do you think mine is worth?”
Qin Daofei seemed but a step away from grabbing a little golden abacus and calculating with lecherous glee, ready to tally up a sum fit to astound even the heavens.
Linglong flopped back down, spreading her hands. “Fine, let’s say the house is worth fifty thousand, but my life isn’t worth much anyway. Besides, I never asked you to save me. I even told you to get out of there quickly. You chose to save me—how can you blame that on me?”
She rolled her eyes. Do as you please, see if I care!
Qin Daofei was both exasperated and amused. He leaned in close, lowering his voice. “Do you really think I can’t handle you anymore?”
Linglong’s eyes darted about, and suddenly she noticed Qin Daofei’s money pouch hanging at his waist, dangling just above her stomach. With a slight movement, her fingers found their way onto it.
“I’ve witnessed the skills of the master of Xiaoyao Manor myself—how could I ever doubt you?” Linglong’s smile was sweet and demure, but her hand, without so much as a tremor, slipped inside Qin Daofei’s money pouch.
Her fingers brushed against a sheet of paper, much like a banknote. She quickly and quietly tucked it into her own bedding, then pulled the blanket up over her head, muffling her voice as she said, “Master Qin, if you please, step outside. I need to get up and count my treasures.”
“Was it a dog, then, who kissed me of her own accord yesterday in front of Xi Yin?” Qin Daofei asked in a cool tone.
Linglong rolled her eyes beneath the covers. “Take it as a dog if you like, Master Qin. It’s not as if no one’s ever been bitten by a dog before.”
In any case, both of them had been equally eager—hard to say whose fault it truly was.

Indeed, her ability to infuriate was still second to none.
“Since you’re in such spirits, save your barbs for later and drink the medicine on the side table,” Qin Daofei said, strolling out unhurriedly.
Only when she was sure he’d gone, the presence of another person vanished entirely, did Linglong fling back the covers in haste and retrieve the “banknote” she’d hidden. Unfolding it, she discovered not a real note, but a slip of unknown paper, upon which four bold characters were written in a powerful, almost penetrating hand: “One Hundred Thousand Taels.”
That familiar, vigorous calligraphy—unmistakably Qin Daofei’s!
Linglong curled up like a shrimp, pulled the blanket over her head, left half her body exposed, and with all her might bellowed, “Damn you, Qin Daofei, you—”
Ah!
She hadn’t finished her curse when someone yanked her out from under the covers.
Shamed by her failed theft, Linglong was about to erupt, but when she caught sight of Qin Daofei’s handsome face, hovering between a smile and a smirk, she quickly hid the fake “banknote” in her palm, refusing to bring it out.
“I quite like you when you’re seething but can’t speak it aloud. Drink your medicine, and I’ll take you to the tailor’s to pick out some clothes later,” Qin Daofei said, then sauntered out at his leisure.
Linglong clutched the so-called “hundred thousand taels,” wishing she could cram it into Qin Daofei’s ever-smirking mouth.
She stomped barefoot across the floor to the wardrobe, rummaged for a long while, only to find it filled entirely with dresses in pink, red, orange, and green.
With some reluctance, she selected a pale green robe embroidered with tiny red flowers, slipped it on, unfastened the die from her ragged black garment to toy with it for a moment, then hung it at her waist.
She walked over to the dressing table and, after feeling about in the drawer for a while, a satisfied smile crept onto her face.
When she drew out her hand, it held a solid gold abacus, small enough to fit in her palm.
That, too, had been part of her dowry.
Thankfully, no one had laid hands on it.

Linglong had yet to comb her hair when she heard a commotion outside in the hallway, and soon after, someone came striding in.
Standing on the upstairs landing, Linglong looked down at the group hastening in below, and said coolly, “Well, what brings a group of officers barging into a lady’s quarters at the break of dawn? What are your intentions?”
Tan Xiyin, who was following the officers, trying to bar their ascent, was so startled by Linglong’s words that she took two steps back, nearly tumbling again.
“Are you Feng Linglong?” The lead officer, a middle-aged man with a square face and comically arched “distressed” brows, asked sternly.
Linglong mimicked his expression, arching her brows into a perfect caricature. “If you think I’m Feng Linglong, then I am; if you don’t, then I’m not.”
Her imitation was spot-on. The two junior officers behind him had to stifle their laughter, their faces turning red from the effort.
“Though Xiaoyao Manor is but a merchant house, it is one favored by imperial grace. For you, officers, to barge into the women’s quarters is not in keeping with propriety. If you have business, please come to the side hall. My husband has just returned and can answer your questions,” Tan Xiyin recovered her composure and took on the air of the mistress of the house.
Ah!
Linglong clapped her hands in admiration. “Mistress Tan is truly well-bred and sensible. If you have business, go seek the master of the Qin family. Why trouble a mere guest like me?”
You—
Tan Xiyin glared at Linglong, vexed that her good intentions were met with such sharp retorts at every turn.
“Feng Linglong, two years ago you set fire to the Jingzhao Prefecture prison, causing the deaths of six jailers and over a hundred prisoners. We are here under orders to bring you in for questioning,” the officer with the square face and arched brows announced, his eyes blazing.
Linglong played with the die at her waist and smiled. “You claim I set fire to the Jingzhao prison—did you see it with your own eyes?”
“I may not have seen it myself, but at the time, you were the only one to survive in the entire prison. For that alone, you owe the prefecture an explanation,” the man replied, full of righteous indignation.