The New Year should be a time for family reunions, but the Yan Family had just suffered a devastating tragedy. For Yan Zheng, the festivities brought nothing but pain.
Chu Ruoyan immediately turned and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I misspoke. Don’t take it to heart."
Her small hands were as soft as her words. Yan Zheng lowered his gaze and smiled faintly. "It’s nothing. Every New Year is the same to me."
Chu Ruoyan knew he was masking his true feelings.
Even if the Grand General and the others treated him poorly, having the heir around had always made a difference.
But since he didn’t bring it up, she wouldn’t press. Instead, she nestled closer against his chest. "Then let me handle this year’s celebrations. Will the palace hold a banquet?"
Yan Zheng thought for a moment. "Yes. From what the Emperor implied, it’ll be the same as previous years—the 'Yuandan Banquet.' Afterward, court affairs will be suspended for seven days."
Chu Ruoyan nodded. "Then we won’t make plans for the first day of the year. As for the rest—"
Before she could finish, the carriage came to a halt.
The coachman spoke in a hushed tone. "Chief Minister, the procession is approaching. Should we yield the way?"
Procession?
Chu Ruoyan blinked in surprise. Yan Zheng had already lifted a corner of the carriage curtain.
Looking out, they saw the Shuntian Prefecture guards escorting a prisoner cart. Inside was none other than Feng Yun.
"Shuntian Prefecture acted so quickly?" Chu Ruoyan exclaimed.
Yan Zheng replied indifferently, "After losing face before the Emperor, they’re eager to prove their worth. Let’s step aside—no need to invite unnecessary trouble."
The coachman swiftly guided the carriage to the side. Behind the prisoner cart, a crowd of commoners followed, hurling rotten vegetables, spoiled eggs, and whatever else they could get their hands on.
At first, Feng Yun shouted curses, then begged in fear when the attacks intensified. When neither worked, she gave up entirely and spewed venomous words.
"So what if I did? That old hag couldn’t please her husband and caught some vile disease—why should I acknowledge her?"
"Mother? What mother? She couldn’t even help me—what right did she have to be called 'mother'?"
"If Father hadn’t despised her, I wouldn’t have been married down to the Earl’s household! I wouldn’t have suffered such humiliation! She was useless in life, and even in death, she’s brought me disaster! Having her as a mother was the worst curse!"
Every word fueled the crowd’s fury.
Soon, the street was filled with flying debris and angry shouts, the air thick with rage.
In a corner, Lin Yunshi clenched her fists. She had initially felt guilty for Feng Yun, thinking she’d been forced into becoming Elder Feng’s scapegoat. But now—
"How could she say such things about Grandaunt? It was her father who committed those crimes—why is she still blaming Grandaunt?"
Beside her, Chu Tingfeng smirked. "She worships the strong and despises the weak. Her father was powerful, protected by the Emperor’s ironclad decree, while her mother came from a minor official’s family, abandoned even by her own kin. Too cowardly to resent her father, she vents her hatred on her mother instead."
With that, he signaled to his subordinate, who promptly presented an item wrapped in yellow cloth.
"What is that? It reeks!" Lin Yunshi pinched her nose.
Chu Tingfeng peeled back a corner, revealing a foul-smelling object. Lin Yunshi’s eyes widened.
"That’s the longevity lock Grandaunt had made for her son! She—she threw it into a cesspit?!"
Chu Tingfeng sneered. "Not just that. The monks at Huguo Temple said your grandaunt wrote countless letters over the years, even scrimped to send her money. But every time, Feng Yun kept the silver and burned the letters—never once replying. Such a heartless creature isn’t worth your guilt."
Lin Yunshi spat in disgust. The Feng Family truly had no redeeming souls!
Meanwhile, outside Feng Mansion—
Feng Ying stepped out of the carriage. "Ninth Brother, thank you for accompanying me. You should head back now..."
Murong Jin sat motionless inside, seemingly lost in thought.
A shadow of malice flickered in Feng Ying’s eyes before she called again, sweetly, "Ninth Brother?"
"Ah! We’re here!" Murong Jin coughed awkwardly. "Then go ahead, A-Ying. Don’t worry too much—I’ll speak to Her Majesty again."
Feng Ying nodded demurely. But the moment she entered the mansion, her expression twisted into something venomous.
"Chu Ruoyin!"
Prince Qin had been thinking about her just now!
Never before had he been distracted in her presence—never!
But now—now—!!
Consumed by fury, she stormed into her chambers and smashed everything within reach.
Only when the room lay in ruins did her rage subside slightly. "Summon Little Dai!"
The servants scurried to obey.
Once Little Dai arrived, Feng Ying demanded, "Do you remember that Mr. Song who gave you information last time?"
Little Dai nodded. "Yes. He was the one who told me that the second Chu daughter wasn’t born to the Duke of Chu. He also said I could find him at Wangshuang Tower if needed."
"Good. Go fetch him immediately. I want to speak with him in person."
Little Dai hurried off. Within half an hour, she returned with Mr. Song in tow.
Dressed in a refined blue robe, his beard neatly trimmed, Song Jia carried himself like a scholar.
Feng Ying studied him discreetly. "You claim to possess information even the Bai Xiao Pavilion can’t obtain?"
Song Jia inclined his head. "Indeed."
"Then whatever you have on Chu Ruoyin—bring it all. Money is no object!"
Song Jia smiled faintly. "Miss Feng, the most damning secret about the second Chu daughter has already been revealed to you. It’s a pity you failed to capitalize on it, allowing others to benefit instead."
Feng Ying slammed the table. "How dare you mock the General’s household!"
Unfazed, Song Jia sipped his tea. "I wouldn’t dream of it. I merely lament the Feng Family’s misstep—a well-laid plan gone awry."
Feng Ying’s interest piqued. "Oh? Then how would you have played it?"
"Had it been me, I wouldn’t have made it a public spectacle, nor dragged it before the imperial family—forcing the Chu Family to investigate thoroughly."
Feng Ying bristled at the implied insult to her competence. But then—
"You mean... keep it quiet?"
"Precisely. If whispers of this had reached Miss Chu’s ears discreetly, given her temperament, would she have dared remain in the Duke’s household?"
Feng Ying’s eyes gleamed. "Of course not! That wretch would’ve been consumed by shame and fled. Then we could’ve pinned her with charges of defying the imperial decree—ruining her forever!"
She stepped back and bowed slightly. "Teach me!"
Song Jia chuckled. "I’m no teacher—just a merchant. Business is all I know. What else does Miss Feng wish to purchase?"
Feng Ying hesitated. "Does the Chu Family have any other secrets?"
Song Jia shook his head. "The Chu Family doesn’t. But County Princess Changle does."
"Tell me! Name your price!"
To her, Chu Ruoyan—who had stolen Yan Zheng—was far more detestable than her second sister.
Song Jia stroked his beard. "The price can wait. But tell me, Miss Feng—do you know why Bai Xiao Pavilion refused your maid’s request for information last time?"
Feng Ying froze.
The man’s voice was smooth as silk. "Because the master of Bai Xiao Pavilion is intimately acquainted with County Princess Changle—bound by more than mere friendship."
