High-class maid

Shen Xing'er returned to her room, but the more she thought about it, the less she could sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Song Wenyang's haggard appearance.

"Never mind, I'm going to see him," Shen Xing'er said as she got up and dressed.

Song Wenyang always appeared in time when he needed him. Now that the person he cared about most had passed away, and died violently at home, how could he sit idly by?

Shen Xing'er put on her coat, disregarding her fear, and quietly closed the door before heading to Song Wenyang's house.

The courtyard gate was not closed, and the house was brightly lit. A coffin was placed in the hall, and Song Wenyang sat dejectedly on the mat, with an empty wine jar on the ground.

"Didn't you have a fever? Why are you drinking alcohol?" Shen Xing'er was furious when she saw Song Wenyang's appearance, angry that he didn't take care of his health.

"Xing'er, you've come. I'm so sad." As Song Wenyang finished speaking, a tear rolled down her cheek.

This was the first time Shen Xing'er had ever seen Song Wenyang cry. Even when his nominal mother passed away, or when his supposedly loving grandmother passed away, he had never lost his composure like this before, and even comforted himself.

Shen Xing'er's heart skipped a beat. Ignoring everything else, she rushed forward and hugged Song Wenyang, saying...

“I know you’re sad, and I can’t say anything to you, but the dead can’t be brought back to life. You must pull yourself together, otherwise, Uncle He won’t be at ease.”

Song Wenyang's body trembled. The girl he liked had actually taken the initiative to hug him, but for some reason, he felt no joy at all. The hug he had been fantasizing about was not happening under these circumstances.

“Xing’er, do you know? Ever since I can remember, it was Uncle He who took care of me. After my mother passed away, I had a fever once, and he went to the Lin family’s courtyard for help, but the Lin family stopped him at the gate. Uncle He had no choice but to climb over the wall to get out.”

Shen Xing'er didn't know what to say, so she just hugged her tightly to comfort her.

"But someone smeared oil on the wall, and He Bo fell down and broke his leg. But he ignored the pain and insisted on carrying the doctor to the mansion. It was from that time that He Bo's leg was left with an old injury."

Shen Xing'er remained silent, simply holding Song Wenyang tightly. She couldn't empathize with him, and any words of comfort would be futile. Rather than that, she decided to spend more time with Song Wenyang.

"Xing'er, you're all I have left. Please don't leave me, okay?" Song Wenyang looked at her with hazy eyes, his gaze filled with deep affection and pity.

"Alright, you must take care of your health. Do it for my sake and for Uncle He's sake. If your health collapses, who will avenge Uncle He?" Shen Xing'er looked steadily at Song Wenyang, encouraging him.

"You knew all along?" Song Wenyang asked in surprise.

"Yes, don't blame my dad. He never hides things from us, and I can't pretend I don't know either," Shen Xing'er said without any pretense.

"Xing'er, I'm sorry, my life... is too complicated. I'm afraid I can't go to your house to propose marriage for a while," Song Wenyang said apologetically.

He Bo has been staying on Shangqiao Street for years. Who could an old man nearing sixty have offended? Wasn't the murderer still targeting him? He was in grave danger himself; how could he drag Xing'er into this?

"I understand, I understand. I'm also afraid I'm not good enough for you, so I've been preparing to open a shop these days!" Shen Xing'er changed the subject.

"Oh? What kind of shop? Is there any progress?" Song Wenyang knew that Shen Xing'er was changing the subject, so he played along and asked.

"Hmm... an embroidery shop, but I don't do embroidery. I'm good at drawing flower patterns!" Shen Xing'er hurriedly explained, afraid that Song Wenyang would laugh at her.

"Okay, okay, if there are any problems, remember to tell me. Don't overwork yourself, okay?" Song Wenyang said, though his voice still had a heavy nasal tone.

"It's nothing, just an embroidery shop. There are plenty of those in the capital. Who would make things difficult for me?" Shen Xing'er waved her hand dismissively.

"Here, take this." Song Wenyang pulled a purse from his waist and handed it to her.

"What is this?" Shen Xing'er reached out and took it, but didn't rush to open it.

"Open it and take a look," Song Wenyang said expectantly, gesturing for her to open it.

Shen Xing'er obediently opened her purse, inside which were five silver notes.

"Why are you giving me silver notes again?" Shen Xing'er said, amused and helpless.

"Consider it my way of supporting you, please accept it," Song Wenyang said.

Shen Xing'er wasn't being coy; she accepted whatever was offered, especially since Song Wenyang was currently grieving, so she figured it was best to be obedient.

"Okay, then I'll take it. If you lose money, it's on you; if you make money, it's on me!" Shen Xing'er said with a smile.

"Xing'er will definitely make a profit in business." Song Wenyang said with a smile, patting her head affectionately.

Seeing that he finally smiled, Shen Xing'er breathed a sigh of relief. She looked at the sky and said reluctantly.

"Brother Song, why don't you take a nap? I can't stay here any longer, I need to go back."

"Okay, I'll see you off." Surprisingly, Song Wenyang didn't try to stop her; he probably wanted to be alone at the moment.

Song Wenyang escorted Shen Xing'er to her doorstep, and after seeing that she had returned home safely, he went home as well, relieved.

He returned to the familiar courtyard and felt another pang of pain when he saw the coffin in the hall. He remembered that he had been sorting through Uncle He's belongings that day, and that the silver he had given Uncle He was lying under his bed.

There were coins of varying sizes, large bills, and even copper coins. Inside the box was a piece of fine cloth; he remembered having someone make clothes for Uncle He, and Uncle He had smiled and said...

"It would be a waste for me to wear this fine material. I'll keep it and wear it when you get married, so as not to embarrass you!"

Song Wenyang's tears flowed again. He thought about the evidence the officials had told him, his hands clenched tightly. He would avenge He Bo's death.

The next morning, the neighbors spontaneously came to Uncle He's house. Some came to offer incense, and some came to offer gifts. Although some gave ten or twenty coins, it was still the neighbors' good intentions.

The scholar, who rarely makes an appearance, sat at the doorway acting as an accountant, recording the monetary gifts from the neighbors.

Three days later, Song Wenyang hired a lion dance troupe and a professional coffin-carrying team to give He Bo a grand burial. From then on, there was no one named He Bo in the alleys of Shangqiao Street.

In the capital, everyone was discussing the top scorer of the year, the eldest son of the Song family.

"This Young Master Song is quite impressive. The list has been out for several days, and no one has seen him yet."

"Hey, I heard he's gained favor with the palace officials. Why would they waste their time on ordinary officials?"

"But he can't be too arrogant! I've heard that many people have gone to the Song residence but haven't been able to find him. Nobody knows where he went."

Song Yanjiang was also very troubled. Why did Song Wenyang not play by the rules and just keep causing him trouble?

"Still haven't found the young master?" Song Yanjiang asked the guard, rubbing his temples.

"Reporting to Master, there is no sign of the eldest young master in the capital," the guard said, bowing his head without daring to look up.