Even with a hearing aid, her hearing was far superior to most. As soon as she stepped into the courtyard, the sound of water trickling reached her ears.
The man must be showering.
Perfect.
As she entered, she ran into Old Yu on his way out.
Surprised, Old Yu asked, "Miss Qianmiao, what brings you here?"
Tang Qianmiao, with her hands tucked into her coat pockets, replied with an innocent expression, "The dog took something of mine. I saw it run in here, so I came to find it."
"Oh, what was it? I can help you look."
"No need, thank you, Uncle Yu."
With that, Tang Qianmiao brushed past him and walked in.
Old Yu glanced back twice but didn't stop her, a faint, amused smile playing on his lips as he left.
The first floor was empty, and she swiftly searched every room but found nothing.
The dog had already gone upstairs, so she naturally followed.
The sound of a cap being twisted off reached her ears—he must be washing his face by now.
With a mindset of getting things done quickly, she searched all three rooms upstairs within three minutes.
Still, nothing.
At last, only the room where Feng Xian was remained.
She knocked twice as a formality, pretended to get a response, and opened the door.
It was a suite; the living room outside was empty.
The study was neatly organized, files stacked in order.
She scanned through them swiftly—company documents belonging to Feng Xian.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
Her gaze then fell on a photograph. In it, a woman smiled at the camera, her arm around a boy of about eleven or twelve—Feng Xian.
The woman was beautiful, bearing a resemblance to Feng Xian.
But she wasn't Qiao Shiwan; she was Feng Wei.
It seemed their relationship was close.
Would Feng Xian know where Feng Wei had hidden those things?
For a fleeting moment, she considered talking to him openly, but then her mother's warnings resurfaced, forcing her to abandon the idea.
"Had enough?"
A cold voice suddenly cut through the air from the side.
Tang Qianmiao calmly turned her head, unruffled.
Feng Xian stood at the bedroom door, his sharp features veiled in indifference, his dark eyes fixed on her without blinking.
He wore only a deep blue silk robe, slightly parted to reveal a broad expanse of chest, his muscular legs exposed to the air.
Tang Qianmiao's gaze remained cool. She set the photo frame down and said evenly, "Your dog brought something of mine in here. I'm looking for it."
"What exactly?" His tone carried a hint of interrogation, as if doubting her claim.
Tang Qianmiao met his gaze, a faint smile playing on her lips. "If I tell you, will you help me look?"
Feng Xian's cold eyes scrutinized her, "Victory never concerns itself with unfamiliar things. What is your true purpose?"
Tang Qianmiao chuckled softly, without a trace of unease. "You're so smart, why don't you guess?"
As she spoke, she slowly walked toward him, his scent immediately enveloping her, bringing an inexplicable sense of ease.
"Second Young Master, you're quite... handsome." She tilted her head back, flashing him a smile that seemed full of delight.
But in the next moment, her casual gaze drifted from his striking face, lingering at his neck, before sweeping past him to take in the layout of the bedroom behind him.
At a glance, aside from the peculiar arrangement of the bathroom, there was nothing out of the ordinary.
Just as she was about to take another step forward, her forehead was abruptly pressed back by his forefinger and middle finger.
Lowering his gaze, he stared at the girl standing so close, and with a slight push, he made her retreat a step.
The distance between them was once again within the boundaries of propriety.
In a calm tone, he said, "You're Bai Mi's assistant."
Tang Qianmiao withdrew her gaze from the bathroom door. "More or less. But if you want to talk about collaboration, I'll say it again—find someone else more qualified."
With that, she turned and walked out.
The bathroom had its issues. She would return.
Feng Xian didn't stop her or say anything more. His deep eyes seemed to hold a premeditated plan.
Just then, a Samoyed trotted in with a fluorescent ball in its mouth, wagging its tail at him.
The man knelt, his gaze falling on the dog, a trace of thought flickering in his eyes.
As he stroked the dog's fur, his voice remained emotionless, "Using the dog as an excuse to see me? It seems she has a crush on me."