Not Much Time Left

After freshening up, Song Zhuyu became more wide awake and only then did he notice that the four feathers were nowhere to be found. "Huh?" He lifted his blanket and even searched beneath his bed, yet he couldn't find any of them. 

Standing in the middle of the room, he rubbed his chin, puzzled. "Where could they have gone? Did something happen last night? Do you know something?" He poked the spirit artifact on the nightstand with his index finger, his gaze narrowing with suspicion. "Or are you the culprit?"

Alas, the poor crimson marble couldn't speak to defend itself against the baseless accusation. It could only intensify the frequency of its pulse as though demonstrating its anger and grievance.