Chapter 56
As it turns out, all those scenes in movies and dramas where protagonists rely on some sort of “plot armor” to dodge danger are complete nonsense.
Or perhaps it just proves that Mu Qing wasn’t destined to be the female lead—either way, that instinctive attempt to hide was utterly useless.
So, when she looked up and saw several burly men standing right in front of her, all staring at her like she was an idiot, she was mortified. The kind of mortified that makes you want to dig a hole and crawl inside.
But, thanks to having lived two lives and hardened by years in business, her thick skin came to the rescue and she quickly adjusted her emotions.
In fact, even if she hadn’t fully adjusted, she was still capable of keeping a perfectly calm, composed appearance.
After all, in life, if your skin is too thin, you’ll soon end up crying your way back to your parents. Once you’ve been slapped around by society, moments like this are child’s play.
Besides, she didn’t want to die. She hadn’t lived enough yet. She had to do everything she could to survive.
So, the question was—faced with roughly ten hardened thugs, how could she stay alive?
And don’t tell her she’d misjudged them and that these weren’t bandits—they definitely weren’t good people. From their eyes, their clothes, and most of all, their aura, they screamed danger.
All she could hope for was that they’d give her a chance to speak.
Mu Qing calmly stood up, clasped her hands respectfully, and greeted them with great courtesy:
“Gentlemen, I greet you with respect.”
As the saying goes, “No one hits a smiling face.” No matter who they were, being polite first wouldn’t hurt. Even if she were doomed to die in the end, at least she would have tried.
She looked perfectly proper on the outside, but internally, she was freaking out—already bracing herself to be hacked to pieces the next second.
Luckily, these big fellows seemed to see her as a weak and helpless girl, which perhaps stirred some pity in them, softening their expressions a bit—they didn’t immediately start swinging weapons.
Among them, the oldest man, clearly the leader, was the calmest of all.
Unlike the others, he didn’t have a vicious expression—though, to be clear, this wasn’t because of his looks.
In fact, his face was the most terrifying of the bunch—because while others just looked intimidating, he had been horribly disfigured.
He must’ve been quite good-looking once—at least, judging from the one intact eye, some remaining eyebrow, and a patch of undamaged skin, he had the makings of a sharp-featured, heroic man.
Unfortunately, the rest of his face was ruined.
Utterly unrecognizable.
It was hard to tell whether the damage came from knives, whips, burns, or some combination. His face was a gallery of injuries—a veritable “scar exhibition.”
Whatever kind of trauma you could imagine, he seemed to have suffered it.
And for some reason, whoever did this to him seemed to especially hate his face.
Everything had been destroyed—except for that one eye. Who knew why that one was spared? Surely not so he could just “see.”
While speculating on this scarred man’s backstory, Mu Qing was still in survival mode.
She immediately recognized him as the leader of this group, but since he hadn’t spoken yet, she couldn’t remain silent either.
After two lives of being a “worker bee,” whether it was as a corporate drone in her past life or working in her family’s business in this one, everything boiled down to customer service. Smile, be courteous—she’d mastered the art of making people like her.
Smiling was key—but not too much.
Too much enthusiasm only made people suspicious.
Striking that perfect balance of distance and warmth was always the hardest.
Fortunately, Mu Qing had practiced for two lifetimes. If not a grandmaster, she was certainly highly skilled.
So she maintained a perfectly appropriate smile, and soon enough, the burly men started to lower their guard. One of them even asked what she was doing here alone—almost like casual small talk.
But the scarred leader still didn’t react.
Most people couldn’t even look at his face.
At first, neither could Mu Qing.
But she had professional training.
In her past life, she’d worked at a service window for several years, dealing with every kind of customer imaginable.
Her temperament had been completely sanded down.
And most importantly, no matter how strange a customer was, her expression never wavered—she’d been nicknamed “the perfect smiling machine.”
With such a glorious résumé, it didn’t take long for Mu Qing to build up the mental strength to look at the scarred man’s face.
Not directly, of course. Her training had taught her to focus just above the tip of the nose. That gave the impression of sincere, respectful eye contact without actually locking eyes—less threatening, more endearing.
To survive, she was pulling out every old trick in the book—even the ones from her entry-level training sessions in her last life.
Thankfully, the effort paid off.
After a few casual, seemingly natural glances at the man’s nose bridge, she finally caught his attention.
He looked confused, even a little curious, but stayed silent until she glanced at him once more—then suddenly asked:
“You’re not afraid of me?”
It was the first thing he’d said that day—his voice low and hoarse, thick with an ancient, battered timbre that immediately gripped the ear.
It sounded like his vocal cords had also been damaged.
Poor guy, Mu Qing thought, sympathy rising again. But she quickly suppressed it—too much sympathy could come off as pity or even insult.
Conveying just the right amount of sympathy—without overstepping into condescension or offense—was an art form.
Mu Qing wasn’t yet a master, but she could manage.
And today, she managed surprisingly well. The scary-looking scarred man seemed convinced.
He no longer pressed the “afraid or not” issue. Instead, he gave a crooked smile and continued, “Interesting. Interesting! It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone so interesting. Girl, whose family are you from? What are you doing out here?”
Repeating “interesting” three times, then asking such a down-to-earth question—who’s your family—was this guy for real, or just playing around?
Mu Qing wanted to roll her eyes, but held back.
Now was the time to maintain the “clever and obedient” persona. Survival came first.
With that in mind, she flashed her signature smile and politely replied:
“To answer Uncle’s question, I’m the daughter of the Mu family from the north of Tongzhou City. I was on my way into the city to visit a friend, but met with a mishap on the road… the horses got spooked, the carriage broke down, and the driver vanished. If not for a kind young gentleman who helped me just now, I might’ve lost my life here.”
She explained everything—where she came from, and how she ended up in this situation—clearly and directly.
As the saying goes, know your audience. Whether you’re selling goods or pleading for your life, tailoring your pitch is essential.
And Mu Qing could tell this scarred man didn’t have the patience for babbling. So she got straight to the point, no nonsense.
That attitude pleased him.
He smiled and nodded. “Not bad. Smart girl… Since you speak so well, let’s call it a day. Da Long, Er Hu, you two escort this young lady out.”
Two of the men stepped forward at once. Clearly, these were the Da Long and Er Hu he’d mentioned.
Mu Qing exhaled slightly and quickly offered her thanks, preparing to reach out for help onto a horse.
But before she could, Da Long and Er Hu suddenly flinched and stepped back, startled.
Everyone burst into laughter—the scarred man especially loud and carefree. It was the most relaxed and genuine he’d looked since Mu Qing had met him.
She said “looked,” but with that face, any expression was nearly impossible to discern.
Laughter or anger—it all looked the same.
Only his voice and the sound of that hearty laugh gave it away.
Mu Qing felt more relieved, but also embarrassed. Surrounded by a bunch of men being teased like that—it was awkward.
Even she couldn’t help blushing, almost wishing she could vanish.
Thankfully, they didn’t laugh too long.
After a moment, the scarred man gave a whistle toward the woods—and the sound of hooves answered from within.
A little white horse trotted out.
Compared to the others’ warhorses, this one was much smaller—but spirited and beautiful, with an almost arrogant grace. Who knew what breed it was, but it clearly wasn’t ordinary.
The little merchant in Mu Qing was dazzled. Just looking at it, she could tell its forehead practically had the words “Very Expensive” written on it.
The pricey and pretty little white horse trotted up to the scarred man.
It ignored everyone else, heading straight to him and affectionately nudging his hand with its nose. Clearly, their bond was deep.
Mu Qing couldn’t help but praise, “What a fine horse,” and added, “It’s clear she has a wonderful relationship with Uncle.”
These plain, honest compliments seemed to touch the scarred man more than any of her earlier formalities.
He chuckled, gently patted the horse’s head like a doting father, clearly full of love.
Then he pointed at Mu Qing and said to the horse, “Sai Xue, my good girl, will you take this young lady home for me?”
…Huh?
Wait, what?
Mu Qing was stunned. He really said “papa” and “good girl”? She hadn’t expected this gruff, scarred man to be the type to treat a pet like a daughter.
With his intimidating appearance, it was shockingly cute.
Even more surprising was that the horse—Sai Xue—seemed to understand.
It snorted, a little unwilling at first, as if pouting. But after a few more head pats and a grooming, she relented.
She tossed her mane and trotted over to Mu Qing, inspected her, then turned around and presented her rear. That clearly meant: she accepted her “dad’s” mission to escort Mu Qing.
Mu Qing found it amazing—but wasn’t afraid. She’d ridden before.
In Jiangnan, women didn’t usually ride horses—the novel’s author clearly envisioned Jiangnan ladies as gentle, stay-at-home types, embroidering and pouring tea. Horse riding? Too crude.
Thus, most Jiangnan noblewomen stayed indoors. But there were always exceptions. Her cousin Yan Hong, wild since childhood, with three younger brothers and a negligent stepmother, had ended up more like a tomboy—and quite the horsewoman.
Because of her, Mu Qing had also learned a bit of riding.
She didn’t master it, but she knew enough.
She wasn’t planning to gallop all the way home—just needed a ride to avoid walking.
Recalling the basics of riding, Mu Qing mounted Sai Xue under the watchful eyes of the scarred man and his men.
She’d grown taller lately, no longer looking like a dumpling. Slender and poised, she didn’t weigh much—so Sai Xue barely shifted beneath her, then stood steady again.
Mu Qing adjusted her posture, then clasped her hands in thanks: “Thank you, Uncle. And thank you, Sai Xue.”
The scarred man said nothing, staying aloof, but Sai Xue snorted haughtily—and the scarred man beamed.
Mu Qing was quietly impressed. Despite his appearance, he was a good person.
Anyone who loves animals that much can’t be all bad.
So maybe… she was safe now?
Da Long and Er Hu bid farewell to the scarred man. Just as the three of them were about to depart, the man called out again.
“Young lady, you said earlier… some gentleman rescued you from the carriage?”
Mu Qing paused, then nodded. “Yes. Does Uncle know him?”
She only asked casually, but the man nodded thoughtfully. “I just might… You’re lucky. But if you ever see him again, don’t get too close.”
His words seemed random—but they struck a chord with Mu Qing.
She had felt the same—that her rescuer, kind as he seemed, had hidden motives.
She nodded quickly, agreeing: “Yes, Uncle. I’ll be more careful in the future.”
She thanked him again. Finally, urged by Sai Xue’s impatient snort, she set off.
Apparently, Sai Xue had a temper, too.
She disliked long goodbyes and simply took off—almost like she knew where to go.
That was clearly impossible.
Da Long and Er Hu quickly followed.
Their horses couldn’t match Sai Xue’s speed, trailing two or three zhang behind and shouting directions.
Thankfully, it wasn’t too late in the day and the roads weren’t busy. Their odd group of three people and three horses didn’t draw too much attention.
Sai Xue was fast. In the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, they reached the city outskirts.
Seeing Tongzhou’s gray walls ahead, Mu Qing felt deeply moved. But Sai Xue suddenly stopped, refusing to go further.
Mu Qing was confused for a moment, then understood—she didn’t like going into cities. Probably used to secluded life in the woods with the scarred man.
What a quirky creature.
Mu Qing didn’t force her. She dismounted, patted Sai Xue’s head like the scarred man had, even tidied her mane a bit.
Sai Xue accepted it all, clearly pleased. No kicking or fuss.
When Da Long and Er Hu arrived, Mu Qing thanked them and Sai Xue again, then watched them ride off before walking into the city alone.
She had barely stepped inside when she nearly collided with someone rushing out—her husband.
Behind him was Ying Thirteen, bruised and bloodied.
Clearly, something terrible had happened while she’d been asleep.
Mu Qing sighed inwardly and walked up to them. “Husband, were you looking for me?”
The moment he saw her, her husband lit up, rushed forward, grabbed her hands, looked her over head to toe—then pulled her into a tight embrace. “Miao-niang, you’re back.”
Mu Qing patted his shoulder and smiled. “Yes, yes, I’m back. I’m fine. The carriage broke down, and the horses ran off…”
She was about to say more when Ying Thirteen suddenly dropped to his knees with a loud thud, choking out:
“Madam, thank goodness you’re safe. I deserve death for failing to protect you. If anything had happened to you, I wouldn’t have waited for Master to act—I’d have ended it myself.”
His dramatic declaration left Mu Qing stunned. Seeing how hard he was knocking his head on the ground, she quickly tried to calm him down.
But the man was stubborn and genuinely remorseful. He wouldn’t rise.
Only when her husband gave the order did he finally stand, then stood aside, radiating an aura of “I’ll protect her with my life.”
After exchanging a few words, the three of them hurried back to the inn—it wasn’t the place to talk.
Along the way, her husband never let go of her, practically carrying her there. It was a bit embarrassing.
Luckily, the inn wasn’t far. With his and Ying Thirteen’s swift pace, they arrived quickly.
Miss Yanran was waiting at the door. Seeing them, her face lit up and she rushed over. “You’re finally here. Hurry inside. Something’s happened again.”
