In the end, Yiyi Liu fished Nana Toki out, at the Si Family villa, like a hook lifting a carp from muddy water.

From the Si Family headquarters—Qingyu Si’s grandfather tugged a few threads like spider silk—and told Yiyi to fetch her, simple as rain.

Nana took a sip from the police station’s paper cup, metal on her tongue and fluorescent chill, feeling rueful. Halfway to “having done time,” huh.

A prickle of defiance rose like hedgehog spines. From now on, she couldn’t stay low‑key.

Because of the morning’s chase-and-kill storm, the Si Family drew a curtain and asked the school for sick leave for Qingyu.

They pressed the incident down with connections, a lid over a boiling pot that rattled in silence.

Witnesses only knew someone was hunted; no one knew who. Faces bent like reeds in wind, whispers ran like water.

Rumor flowed through alleys and avenues like fog curling along stone.

Those days, out buying vegetables, Nana often saw aunties cluster like sparrows, chirping here and there.

The ones hunting Qingyu hadn’t been traced; Yiyi said their background felt heavy, stones sunk in deep water with no quick ripples.

Qingyu’s father fretted, and raised thorns around the rose—security thickened near the villa.

It made Qingyu uneasy, like a bird shifted into a new cage.

“Uh… um, my lady, are you going to school today?”

Days had passed. Morning light on tiles, Nana was about to head for vegetables when she saw Qingyu in uniform with a handbag, at the villa gate, arguing with a weathered middle‑aged man, voices like flint.

They argued hard and didn’t notice her. Nana, loyal to the creed of “the bigger the spectacle, the better,” perched like a cat on a windowsill and listened.

It sounded simple: Qingyu wanted school; the man refused, saying the streets were knives today.

Stay home, or wear a dozen bodyguards like armor if you stepped out.

Qingyu kept low at school, but she wouldn’t swallow that, and the quarrel sparked like flint and tinder.

Looked like that middle‑aged man was her dad, thunder rumbling behind cloud.

“What good are those bodyguards!”

Nana was timing her vegetable run when suddenly—thoughts scattered like leaves—Qingyu, arms crossed, yanked Nana over, planted herself before the man, and let out a cold laugh. “If Shu Tong hadn’t been there that day, you wouldn’t even have the chance to look at me now!”

Sikong Xiao choked on his words, a fishbone lodged in his throat.

He looked at his daughter and had nothing to say. In truth, his careless hand had set these dominoes.

He’d thought distance from headquarters would buy her calm; now it looked like a bad stone in Go, ripples spreading wrong.

Only—

“You’re the maid who helped my daughter dodge the assassins that day?”

Sikong Xiao raked Nana up and down with hawk eyes, and saw nothing impressive—just a sparrow among sparrows.

Why did their story sound so thick with fog?

“Yeah, that’s me. So what?”

Dragged so suddenly, basket swinging like a pendulum, Nana hadn’t reset her manners and answered bluntly, beads of etiquette spilled.

Sikong Xiao’s mouth twitched; this maid lacked the usual silk‑soft polish.

For his precious girl’s face, he swallowed his words like bitter tea.

“Thanks for looking after my daughter these days.”

He felt he needed another bodyguard for her; the more he looked, the less reliable this maid seemed, trust crumbling like a dry biscuit.

Not a trace of proper composure, just wind in tall grass.

“You flatter me, sir. It was my duty.” A thorn of disdain pricked under the lace—if not for Qingyu being maybe the Nesting Phoenix, she wouldn’t have lifted a finger.

Just that heroine status alone was enough for Nana to be her lifelong foil.

“Speaking of which, headquarters is short on maids. How about I transfer you there, to repay your help? What do you think?”

Sikong Xiao’s eyes narrowed like a hawk gauging a mouse, honey gleaming on a blade.

On paper it was a promotion and raise; in truth, who knew what else sat in the shadows.

Headquarters folk were the kind who swallow bones; no one comes back clean.

Sending a little maid there was a moth flying straight into the forge.

Nana saw he wanted her away from Qingyu. She was about to speak when Qingyu’s temper flared, dry tinder licking into flame.

“The staff in my house isn’t yours to shuffle.”

With a cold face, Qingyu pulled Nana behind her. “Just roll back to your headquarters and do your job there.”

Looked like father and daughter were out of tune, strings pulled sharp until they sang wrong.

Behind Qingyu, Nana combed her lady’s relationships in her head, threads on a loom: car and house stacked; parents both busy; enemies sprouting like weeds after rain to hunt her now and then.

Mm. She looked more and more like a city‑bodyguard novel’s heroine, just missing the “school belle” stamp.

Sikong Xiao met his daughter’s wary, hostile gaze and felt vines tie his hands.

Affection had been winter since spring, and now “Dad” felt like a faded word.

Storm season, huh? Rebellion blowing in.

He wanted time with her, but the underworld shifted like whirlpools; once in the mire, climbing out was hard and cold.

“Enough of that. Choosing you a bodyguard still has to proceed. One maid’s a thin umbrella in a storm.”

He sighed, wind pushing him back toward the ship. He couldn’t leave headquarters long; he had to return soon, no lingering.

“I’ve picked someone. Treat him properly when he arrives.”

“I don’t want your so‑called bodyguards,” Qingyu said, willow‑leaf brows folding. “I have Shu Tong. That’s enough.”

“No discussing this.” Sikong Xiao’s glare flashed like thunder. “He’ll arrive this afternoon. Qingyu, be polite.”

With that, he didn’t linger and drove off, the black car a swallow slipping into the street.

Qingyu watched the sedan’s fading shadow, bit her lip, then stormed off another way, a gust scattering petals.

Nana had no choice; she followed her lady to school, steady as a shadow on stone.

As for the groceries… hmm… leave them to Yiyi Liu, the basket moored like a boat at dawn.

She had little after morning cleaning anyway; warm tea kindness said she wouldn’t mind.

Nana followed Qingyu all the way to school. Her European medieval maid dress shone like a lantern at dusk. Even walking behind Qingyu, she collected stares from passersby the way pines collect wind.

Luckily, Nana’s skin was stone under rain; she let it slide.

She focused on one thing—after Qingyu went in, where should she kill time? A lazy itch stretched like a cat in sunlight.

She didn’t think the hunters would let Qingyu go that easily. After all, the Protagonist Lord hadn’t even appeared yet, plot clouds still holding rain.

Normally the pattern’s this: the male lead saves Qingyu, tosses in a few fanservice scenes, then that afternoon she finds the “bodyguard” is the Protagonist Lord, shock strikes, and their bickering daily life starts.

Not this ripple‑less opening, a pond with no stones to stir it.

Readers won’t spark if the tinder’s damp.

After escorting Qingyu safe to school, jade returned to its case, Nana thought—since she was here, why not look around?

Qingyu shared a class with that school belle in the harem. With luck, she might catch a glimpse, a butterfly crossing her path.

Judging by that lady cop before, heroines in this plane hadn’t broken character yet, masks still smooth.

At least, Zixia Chen hadn’t cracked.

In the plot, aside from the office white‑collar who first gets written off and sleeps with the male lead, the rest of the harem only start in mid‑to‑late arcs. Early on, they wave the “slice‑of‑life” flag while openly face‑slapping and selling fanservice.

If the heroines hadn’t broken character, Nana wouldn’t provoke them like a lunatic. She had no death wish.

In status, she was a small supporting role. Against a fully built, halo‑draped heroine, she’d be a free giveaway, a lamb on an altar.

Nana wasn’t dumb enough to pick fights with the upright heroine; that’s lighting a match in gasoline.

“Student… it’s class time now… please don’t wander the hallway.”

Maid garb swishing, Nana was called to a halt, the voice tugging a bell rope.

She turned. A petite woman dressed like a teacher held a black folder with both hands like a little shield, watching her carefully.

Do I look that scary?

“Uh…” Nana touched her cheek, feathers on porcelain, ready to explain.

Suddenly, a black figure sprinted past, a swallow cutting the air. Before Nana or the teacher reacted, it darted into the classroom behind her.

They faintly heard a long exhale. “Ah… almost late again…”

…

…

“Sorry for the trouble. I’m not a student here. I was passing by and wanted to check on my lady in the school.”

[Ding! Main Quest Phase Two: Maid Etiquette complete!]

[Begin Main Quest Phase Three: God-tier Self-Cultivation of the Perfect Maid (III) Clean and Tidy]

As Nana gave a standard maid curtsey, a silver bell chimed in her mind, fog ringing clear—Phase Two complete.

Exasperation rose like steam. What kind of quest was this…

She still hadn’t figured out what these phases meant, runes carved in mist.

Did one main quest really split into so many parts, a serpent shedding skins?

While Nana pondered, the teacher took in the outfit and realized, a gentle smile like sunlight warming tiles. “You’re a maid of the Si Family, right?”

Hm?

Was her lady really that famous, name fluttering like a banner in wind?

Puzzled, Nana nodded fast and bowed again, gesture flowing like water. “Yes. Sorry to trouble you.”

“No, no, it’s on me. I thought you were from one of our clubs.”

The teacher scratched her head, a sparrow ruffling feathers, sheepish.

Just then, from the classroom came a long, sing‑song call. “Hey—Xiao Zhu! The school belle is late again! Come in and punish her!”

“Then I won’t delay your class. I’ll visit again when school lets out.”

Nana glanced at Qingyu’s class, lifted the basket crooking from her arm, and offered a kind smile, spring light on calm water.

“Mm… mm…”