Song Qingshu frowned slightly. Though Zhou Zhiruo's reasoning made sense, this demand required the smallest possible price. But he knew Zhou Zhiruo and Zhao Min had battled each other for years. If he, her husband, slapped Zhou Zhiruo twenty times in front of Zhao Min, how would Zhou Zhiruo ever be able to hold her head up afterward?
Song Qingshu felt as though his head was about to explode. He had once fantasized about building a huge harem, yet just two women had already left him utterly bewildered. The blessings of having multiple wives were not so easily enjoyed; the ancients truly had not deceived him.
"Miss Zhao, if I remember correctly, you once owed me a favor as well. Since that's the case, how about we call it even?" Song Qingshu took a gold hairpin from his robes. He had removed it from Zhao Min's hair while escorting her for treatment back then, using it as proof of her promise.
When Zhao Min saw the object in his hand clearly, her heart trembled. "You've been carrying this gold hairpin on you the whole time?"
"Mm." Song Qingshu nodded and handed the hairpin over. "Miss Zhao, could you stop making things difficult for me?"
"You're actually using my promise to save Zhou Zhiruo!" Zhao Min did not take it. Instead, she bit her lip and glared at him.
"I can't really slap her twenty times, can I?" Song Qingshu said with a wry smile.
"Fine. Don't regret this." Zhao Min's voice turned cold as she reached out to take the hairpin. She had already made up her mind: once she got it back, she would find some corner and throw it away. Out of sight, out of mind.
But her hand grasped empty air. Zhou Zhiruo had beaten her to