Chapter 15

In the silent standoff, Ruan Zhen’s grip tightened.

Under the blanket lay a dinner knife.

He had just arrived on the first floor and went straight to the kitchen to fetch it. It had been used to cut bread during the day, its silver blade gleaming sharply.

This music room had been unoccupied for far too long. The door hinges were somewhat rusted, creaking slightly as they turned, mingling with the gentle breeze from the corridor, as if bearing the weight of decades of hardship and countless dark secrets—

Ruan Zhen’s heart was beating fast.

Because he hadn’t heard any footsteps.

The handle of the knife was cold, his fingertips turning slightly white from the pressure, as he waited for the figure that was about to appear.

But it was too quiet. The door, which had been locked and the key removed, was now slowly opening, as if issuing a menacing warning, yet maintaining a terrifying silence.

It couldn’t be Song Qiuguang or Song Chunfeng, could it? Perhaps it was Song Xiaoyu, who seemed simple but was actually the most venomous?

Ruan Zhen dared not think further. He pushed himself up from the sofa, his hand still hidden under the blanket.

“Who’s there?”

No response.

“Who’s there?”

Still, a long silence.

Ruan Zhen’s face darkened as he began to consider whether to throw the knife first to take the initiative or to wait and see.

After all, it was the middle of the night, and anyone sneaking in to pick the lock and stand at the door, acting mysterious, couldn’t be a good person… huh?

Ruan Zhen paused.

Because a small, snow-white head poked out from the door frame, its black eye looking over, and a sharp beak opened—

“Quack.”

Ruan Zhen: “…”

Well, well.

This was definitely not a bad person.

Because it wasn’t a person at all!

He couldn’t help but relax, his body following suit. “Hello, little bird.”

The bright red feet clung to the edge of the door frame, so adorable.

It didn’t come over, just tilted its head to look at him, its eyes round and black, its white tail feathers showing.

“Did you open the door?”

Ruan Zhen watched with interest, extending his hand. “You’re so smart.”

The moment he opened his palm, the bird spread its wings and fluttered onto his hand, even nuzzling Ruan Zhen’s fingers with its head.

Well, well, Ruan Zhen almost lost his grip.

It looked small, but it was quite heavy and plump when it landed on his hand.

Ruan Zhen couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re so heavy, little fatty!”

“Quack!”

The bird seemed to understand and called out, lowering its head to peck at something, a silver wire in its beak.

It must have been hiding it in its claws, and those black eyes were full of challenge.

What did this mean?

Ruan Zhen was taken aback for a moment, then tentatively apologized. “I’m sorry, you’re not a little fatty, you’re a smart bird… So, can you show me how to do it?”

It was really late at night, and he must have been losing his mind to think a bird could understand him.

He remembered that in the previous plot, there were no animal scenes. Song Qinwen was somewhat allergic, and the young masters had no interest in these little creatures. The butler even sneered at the dog hair on his clothes—

But at that moment, the bird turned its head and flew to the round door lock, using its beak to skillfully insert the wire into the keyhole.

“Click.”

The sound of the lock opening was particularly clear in the night.

Ruan Zhen blinked several times, dumbfounded as he followed over, took the wire, and tried a few times himself but couldn’t open it precisely.

The bird perched on his shoulder, its fluffy chest puffed up proudly.

“Amazing,” Ruan Zhen praised sincerely. “You can understand me and open locks. Can you speak? Say… hello?”

“Quack, quack!”

The bird flapped its wings, puffing up indignantly and repeating the same syllables.

Its call sounded a bit like a duck.

Ruan Zhen relocked the door, returned to the sofa, and lay down, looking at the bird that had landed on his palm again.

“Who are you, and why did you suddenly appear here?”

He gently stroked the bird’s feathers, his voice soft.

Ruan Zhen was actually quite popular with small animals.

Perhaps due to this natural affinity, the bird retracted its claws and fell asleep from being petted, occasionally responding with a chirp or two.

“Did you come in from outside? Do you need me to let you go?”

“…”

The bird ignored him.

“Are you hungry? Do you want millet or insects?”

“Quack, quack!”

The bird perked up instantly.

Ruan Zhen pondered for a moment. Two chirps must mean it wanted millet. So he put the bird down and quietly went to the kitchen, found two small dishes, and filled one with golden grains and the other with water.

The bird, which had almost fallen asleep, hopped over and started eating, head down.

It was eating with great relish.

Ruan Zhen squatted down to watch, laughing.

“Starving?”

“Quack!”

“Take it easy, don’t choke.”

“Quack.”

After laughing, Ruan Zhen propped his cheek. “Is your owner Song Shuling?”

“Quack, quack, quack!”

The bird tilted its head back, spreading its wings happily, almost knocking over the dish of millet.

Got it.

Ruan Zhen sat back on the sofa. No wonder he had no memory of this bird; it wasn’t part of the main storyline of the book and wouldn’t appear around the seven young masters of the Song family. The most likely possibility was that it came from somewhere else.

He couldn’t remember anything else.

At that moment, the bird suddenly noticed a plate of fruit and flew over, eyes gleaming, wings spread wide.

It precisely selected a ripe apple, diving into it and feasting heartily.

Ruan Zhen didn’t know what this type of bird could eat, but seeing its excited state, he didn’t stop it.

The apple was a bit overripe, emitting a faint fermented smell. Ruan Zhen couldn’t bear to waste food, so he brought it in, and he also liked the faint aroma of alcohol.

Why was it still eating?

Was the bird on a restricted snack diet…

Why was it eating so voraciously?

After a while, the bird finally ate its fill, perching obediently on the back of the sofa, preening its feathers.

Ruan Zhen lay down, covering himself with the blanket, and yawned. “Good night.”

The next morning, he was woken by the servants’ chatter.

The Song family had many rules, one of which was that servants couldn’t be in the main house at night and instead slept in the row of small houses in the courtyard.

The sky was just beginning to lighten, and the cleaning sounds in the remote music room were particularly clear.

“Was there some noise last night?”

“I heard it too, around two or three in the morning… It almost kept me from sleeping.”

“Such disturbances will probably happen more often in the future!”

Amid the laughter, there was a hint of innuendo. Ruan Zhen lazily stretched, stood up, and walked out. The snow-white bird was still asleep, sprawled out, and he put it in his pocket.

He opened the door.

The servants, who were wiping the railings, immediately fell silent.

“Good morning, Auntie,”

Ruan Zhen nodded in greeting. “Good morning.”

They all froze, looking at Ruan Zhen in disbelief as he emerged from the music room.

They had clearly heard noises from the third floor last night, assuming one of the young masters couldn’t resist and was trying to get close to the stepmother… If Ruan Zhen had spent the whole night there, who was making the noise?

Their eyes darted around, not daring to think further.

Only the auntie standing by the kitchen door, who had secretly given him the listening device the day before, had her eyes light up, her gaze landing on Ruan Zhen’s hair.

Very subtly, a small white feather.

She quickly looked away.

“Ma’am….”

A servant started to speak but quickly corrected herself. “Good morning, Little Madam!”

Ruan Zhen smiled, not correcting her, and turned to leave.

He calmly walked up to the third floor, washed up, changed clothes, and picked up the listening device he had deliberately left in the room.

He wondered if Song Shuling had heard everything that happened last night.

What a touching family bond! It would be a shame if there were no witnesses.

He always felt that Song Shuling had a bit of a twisted side.

Otherwise, who would install a listening device in their room and have someone deliver it to themselves?

Let the villains deal with each other; it was the most fitting solution.

Ruan Zhen finished washing his face, slowly biting his hair tie, the water droplets on his chin about to fall—

The bathroom door was pushed open.

A cold male voice spoke.

“Where’s Ball?”

Ruan Zhen calmly tied his hair, looked up, and saw himself in the mirror.

And Song Shuling in the corner.

Wearing gold-rimmed glasses, dressed neatly, exuding an elegant and dignified air, yet radiating a subtle sense of oppression.

Perfect, this was the big boss he wanted to work with.

But… would a big boss name their pet “Ball”?

“Who are you talking about,”

Ruan Zhen turned, his lower back pressing against the edge of the sink. “The bird, or…?”

“Parrot, white cockatoo.”

Song Shuling’s brow furrowed slightly, his expression impatient. “Why is my bird with you?”

The way he said it made Ruan Zhen want to laugh.

On one hand, the name “Song Shuling” had always represented a cold, unfeeling, and unkind image. Hearing him say such a thing gave it a different flavor.

So, he wasn’t an emotionless ice block after all.

He, too, had friends, whether they were cats, dogs, birds, or even plants, companions in life.

On the other hand…

“Did you take my bird?”

Song Shuling stood at the door, not locking it, not approaching Ruan Zhen, maintaining a distance that was neither too close nor too far, his voice slightly hoarse. “Where is it now?”

“Third Lord, I think that sounds a bit strange.”

Ruan Zhen paused, speaking tactfully. “Perhaps we can call it by its name, not just ‘bird.’ What was it again?”

“Ball.”

“Oh,”

Ruan Zhen nodded in realization. “I see. You found Ball missing and, through some surveillance or informants, learned it was with me, so you couldn’t sit still and came over early this morning to negotiate a ransom… Ah, no, that’s not what I meant.”

He laughed.

It seemed he had told a poor joke, but received no response, so he smiled awkwardly.

Song Shuling’s lips were tightly pressed together.

“Ruan Zhen,”

He called the name for the first time.

Not “stepmother,” “sister-in-law,” “Sir,” or any other title, just the name.

“Tell me, where is Ball now?”

Ruan Zhen looked up, his face calm.

“Sir Song,”

He changed the title. “I have a suggestion. When children grow up, you can let them do what they like, eat what they like, and not be too restrictive.”

Song Shuling’s eyes widened.

Ruan Zhen lifted the blanket he was wearing, a plaid pattern with light tassels—

In the pocket of his pajamas, a parrot was sound asleep, its white head peeking out.

It had eaten too much fermented apple and was still drunk from the night before.

Song Shuling visibly relaxed but then asked, “What’s wrong with it? Is it sick?”

“No,”

Ruan Zhen put down the blanket. “If Ball could answer, I think it would say…”

He tilted his head slightly, smiling, his eyes sparkling.

“Quack?”