By the time Nana Toki wrapped up at Yuehong Hotel, the sun had slid past five like a copper coin rolling to a table’s edge.

She checked her phone; the digits glowed like cold fireflies, and she guessed Qingyu Si’s dismissal bell was about to ring.

She ducked into an empty staff lounge, slipped into her maid uniform like a shadow changing skins, and hurried back to the school.

At the gate, Qingyu saw Nana rushing over for once without standing her up; surprise fluttered across her face like a startled sparrow.

She smoothed it away at once, her features icing over like a winter pond, returning to the cool heiress she wore like armor.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Nana’s voice was steady as a silk ribbon in a breeze.

She walked up and took the tote from Qingyu’s hand as naturally as water flowing into a cup. “Let’s go home together.”

“Mm.” The sound was soft as a bell behind gauze.

Seeing the smile touch her maid’s face, Qingyu nodded and walked ahead, her steps straight as a drawn brushstroke.

Nana followed with the bag, matching pace until they moved side by side like twin metronomes clicking in time.

She thought the day would just glide by like a slow river, but a snag waited at the Si Family gate.

An uninvited guest stood there like a nail in the threshold.

“Shu—tong—An—!” The name cracked the air like a whip.

From afar, Nana spotted Captain Zixia Chen at the villa gate, her glare bright as a drawn blade in the sun.

Nana’s stomach dropped like a stone into a well; she spun on her heel to bolt like a cat slipping behind a screen.

“Where’re you running, huh?” The voice hooked her like a fisherman’s barb.

She’d only just turned when a weight thumped onto her shoulder like a sandbag, and a “kind” smile bloomed in front of her like a painted mask.

“...” Nana’s thoughts flashed like startled minnows. Holy hell—she teleported.

If you ignored the vein pulsing on Zixia’s brow and the twist at her mouth, our captain looked kindly as a lantern in dusk.

“Wh-what’s up, Captain? Doing a little after-dinner patrol for the people?” Nana’s gaze skittered like a guilty moth around a lamp.

“Patrol my ass!” Zixia’s temper clanged like a pot lid on a stove.

Lately, one look at Nana made Zixia’s anger spike like a thermometer in boiling oil.

“You dared trick the police with a false report—got guts, huh! Shutong An, explain yourself today or I won’t let this go!” Her words lashed like bamboo switches.

That damned maid had cried prostitution at the hotel; her superiors chewed her out, and her arms bust credit got wiped like chalk from a slate.

“Let’s be reasonable, Captain,” Nana hurried to defend herself, voice trying to smooth like oil on water. “We still caught other people, didn’t we?”

She kept up with the news like leaves chasing wind, so she’d seen the report on the arms dealers yesterday afternoon.

“Not the same!” Zixia’s pitch climbed like chalk squeaking on a board. “Prostitution is prostitution; arms are arms! A real-name false report is a crime!”

She seized Nana’s wrist; silver handcuffs flashed from her pocket like ice fish catching light.

Nana flinched on reflex, a quick shrink like a snail into its shell.

Click.

Zixia fumbled, and the cuff snapped shut on her own left wrist, bright as frost biting skin.

“You—” She stared at her cuffed hand, disbelief stacking like falling tiles, then shot Nana a look wide as storm eyes. “You even dare assault an officer!”

“...” Nana’s silence was a flat lake.

“Officer Chen, the people’s eyes are bright as snow. You cuffed yourself, not me,” she said, holding Zixia’s wrist like a cold branch. “My lady saw everything.”

“Mm.” Off to the side, Qingyu nodded, her gaze as level as still water.

From her angle, it did look like Zixia had cuffed herself on purpose, a farce painted in two strokes.

Zixia didn’t waste breath; she lunged with her free hand, a hawk striking for prey.

Click!

Reading the motion like a calligrapher reading flow, Nana snatched the other cuff and closed it on Zixia’s right wrist, a motion smooth as threading a needle.

If the street weren’t so empty, passersby would have thought a cat burglar had tried to raid the Si estate and got netted like a trout.

“...” Zixia stared at the cuffs on both wrists, her mood darkening like clouds piling before rain.

The air went still, holding its breath like a flute before a note.

She drew in a long breath, heavy as a bellows. Then—

“Ahhhh! Shutong An, I’m done with you!” She charged like a boar breaking brush, arms swinging like flails.

“Officer Chen, calm down!” Nana reached to smooth the spikes like hands on a ruffled cat.

But Qingyu wasn’t having it; her hand flashed out like a white crane’s wing and pulled Nana aside with a clean tug.

Because Zixia’s hands were bound, her lunge hit air; she pitched forward and kissed the ground like a bad prayer.

“...” Nana winced, the sound landing like a pebble in her throat.

“You can’t let others touch you.” Qingyu’s gaze cut like moonlight on steel.

Understanding Nana’s questioning look, she released Nana’s arm and spoke with studied calm, each word set like a jade bead. “You’re my family’s maid. Without my permission, no one touches any part of you.”

“...” Nana’s mouth twitched as she eyed Zixia sprawled face-down like a felled pine.

“My lady, maybe she actually has business with us,” she murmured, voice light as steam.

“I haven’t done anything illegal. Why would the police bother me?” Qingyu’s tone was a cool breeze over tea.

She called into the courtyard, where Yiyi Liu was washing clothes, sleeves wet as willow leaves. “Bring that woman inside.”

Yiyi came over in a fog like morning mist; she opened her mouth to ask, then spotted the handcuffs and blinked, her expression shifting like a fan flick. Was this some new play?

Qingyu had no patience for more bickering; once Yiyi arrived, she led Nana indoors like a silk thread drawing a needle through cloth.

Only after Yiyi unlocked the cuffs and brought Zixia in did Qingyu, seated on the sofa with tea steaming like bamboo fog, lift her eyes.

“Speak, Officer Chen. Why are you at my house today?” Her words were porcelain cool.

“Nothing much. Orders from above—to protect you for a day.” Zixia rubbed her sore wrists like bruised fruit and shot Qingyu a look.

“Someone’s going to kidnap you at tomorrow’s gala at Yuehong Hotel. My old man told me to keep you covered.” Her voice fell like a stone into the room.

She couldn’t figure why her father, retired into the national forces like an old tiger in tall grass, wanted her guarding the Si heiress.

The Si Family heir was tied to the biggest black-market helm in X City; by rights, this wasn’t police turf, more like a chessboard under another hand.

But her old man insisted she step in, saying it was a chance to make up for mistakes, like handing her a ladder down a cliff.

Nana blinked, surprise flaring like a match. She’d only heard at noon; had Huaiyue Qin already set people in motion like pieces on silk?

That was fast, a swallow crossing a courtyard in one beat.

“How do you know I’ll be kidnapped?” Qingyu frowned, her brows knitting like willow twigs.

“We got word from our plant in the black market,” Zixia said, taking Yiyi’s tea and sipping like rain on dry lips. “Someone’s hired through them to snatch you at the gala.”

Her eyes flicked with a teasing light like foxfire. “What now? Hearing you’ll be kidnapped, are you scared?”

“Scared?” Qingyu’s cool face cracked into a laugh, bright as glass chiming. “What’s that?”

Did this cop, like everyone else, take her for a pretty porcelain doll meant for shelves and sunlight?

“I’m not some hothouse blossom. Don’t mix me up with those things.” Her words fell like slate, hard and flat.

Zixia took the hit, face tightening like a drumhead, but she didn’t flare.

“We’ll see how long you can front,” she muttered, turning aside with arms crossed like shut gates. “Careful I don’t bother protecting you.”

“Who needs you to?” Qingyu sipped tea with an elegant tilt like a crane drinking, but her gaze slid to Nana, sharp as a pin. “My maid is enough. Your so-called protection? I don’t need it.”

“You—you—” Zixia sputtered, words hopping like beans on a hot plate.

“What, you what? A precinct captain who couldn’t beat our maid,” Qingyu said, setting down her cup with a click like a jade ring. “Your protection doesn’t reassure me.”

She was clearly paying back that earlier “porcelain doll” slight with interest, coins stacked like towers.

“That was a fluke,” Zixia snapped, teeth grinding like grit. “Give me another go and the ending won’t be the same!”

Nana couldn’t wedge in a word; she stood with Yiyi like a pair of paperweights, watching the verbal rally bounce like a shuttlecock.

Near dinner, Nana finally saw Zixia off, the sky dimming like ink washing a screen.

The fiery officer was fierce to the edge; she’d even skipped dinner, sprinting to the Si house on an empty stomach like a drum.

If her belly hadn’t growled like thunder mid-argument, those two would’ve kept clashing till the lamps came on.

“Shutong.” After dinner, in Nana’s room, Qingyu’s voice drifted across like a ribbon.

“What is it?” Nana rummaged in the fridge, the cool light spilling like moon on ice. “Something you need, my lady?”

“At tomorrow night’s gala, will you protect me?” Qingyu sat on the bed hugging her knees like a curled cat, eyes on the pillow as if it were a quiet lake.

She said it like discussing a trivial errand, a leaf floating past.

“Of course.” Nana’s reply was steady as a nail in wood. If I don’t, my main quest crumbles like sand.

“...” The pause was a soft breath.

“Thanks.” The word brushed her ear like a spring breeze, then the room settled into a short, gentle quiet.

Nana found the milk in the fridge, the carton cold as a river stone, and let the peace sit between them like warm light.