A few days ago, Jiang Zhaohua attended Old Lady Zhang's birthday banquet. After the feast, noblewomen of similar ages strolled through the garden together. Before her marriage, Jiang Zhaohua had always been the center of attention at such gatherings.
But this time, few were willing to keep her company, and she overheard many sharp, mocking remarks.
"The daughter of a marquis marrying a ninth-rank horse keeper—such an absurdity wouldn’t even be written in operas, would it?"
"Wrong, wrong! She didn’t marry a horse keeper. It was after the marriage that she dragged the top scholar down to that position. Haven’t you heard? It’s all because the Marquis of Xiping's Mansion offended the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord..."
"What? Offended the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord? Then why was the Marquis of Xiping's Mansion even invited to today’s banquet? We should stay far away, lest we catch their misfortune..."
"Indeed, we must keep our distance. Look at the status of our husbands—what is hers? The wife of a horse farm supervisor..." A newlywed noblewoman who had long disliked Jiang Zhaohua burst into laughter.
"Such a lowly position—calling her 'Madam' is too generous! She should just be called 'the horse farm supervisor’s old woman'!"
Jiang Zhaohua had once been a high-born beauty who dazzled the capital. While many admired her, just as many resented her haughty demeanor.
Now, those who had always despised her seized the chance to mock her mercilessly over this grand humiliation.
Jiang Zhaohua’s face burned with anger. She longed to slap every one of those sneering women!
But she couldn’t... Her nails dug into her palms until they bled. Today was Old Lady Zhang’s celebration, and the Zhang family held great influence. Her husband desperately needed allies now—she couldn’t afford to offend them...
Many of those taunting her came from powerful families. In the past, Jiang Zhaohua wouldn’t have cared, but now she was fighting tooth and nail to restore her husband’s official position...
Bearing the humiliation, Jiang Zhaohua returned home, her palms bleeding and her lips bitten raw.
The moment she stepped into the Duan household, she was met with the scowling face of Duan's mother.
"You’ve ruined my son’s life, yet you still have the leisure to go out and amuse yourself?"
"From today onward, you are forbidden from leaving this house. Stay home and fulfill your duties as a Duan wife—raise your son and serve your mother-in-law."
That very night, Duan's mother demanded Jiang Zhaohua wash her feet.
Jiang Zhaohua couldn’t believe her ears.
What? That wretched old hag actually expected her, a marquis’s daughter, to kneel and wash her feet?
Her face flushed crimson, chest heaving with fury.
Had Duan's mother lost her mind? Did she forget who she was speaking to? Jiang Zhaohua was the daughter of a marquis, while Duan's mother was nothing but a lowly washerwoman who had scraped by laundering clothes for others to raise her son.
Only minor households hired outside washerwomen like her. Someone like Duan's mother wasn’t even qualified to touch the fine silks of the marquis’s mansion—they kept their own laundresses for such delicate fabrics.
Yet now, this woman who wasn’t fit to wash Jiang Zhaohua’s clothes dared demand that she personally tend to her filthy feet!
Jiang Zhaohua trembled with rage. "Have you forgotten who I am?"
Duan's mother sneered. "Who you are? Are you trying to flaunt your noble birth to intimidate me?"
"I don’t care how pampered and precious you were before. The moment you married into the Duan family, you became my daughter-in-law, and I am your mother-in-law!"
"Besides, what good has your noble status done for my son? All you’ve brought him is ruin."
"If not for you, my son—the top scholar in three consecutive examinations—would be serving in high office now, not tending to horses!"
"If you’re truly the Marquis’s daughter, then prove it! Have your family pull strings and secure my son a prestigious post."
"Do that, and I’ll wash your feet every day."
"But until then, you’ll be washing mine."
Tears of fury spilled down Jiang Zhaohua’s cheeks. Duan's mother was nothing but a shrew.
"My father is already trying, but everyone fears the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord’s power. These things take time—"
Duan's mother cut her off, glaring viciously. "Every day you delay, you’ll spend another day washing my feet."
Jiang Zhaohua stiffened, refusing to comply.
Duan's mother smirked. "If you won’t do it, I’ll send you back to your family immediately. An unfilial daughter-in-law like you has no place here. Let your parents teach you proper manners again."
At this threat, the color drained from Jiang Zhaohua’s face.
Duan's mother had struck her weakest point.
Being cast out by her husband’s family would shame not just her, but the entire marquis’s household.
Jiang Zhaohua would never allow such disgrace.
Defeated, she looked at Duan's mother in despair.
Triumphant, the old woman lifted her foot.
Holding her breath, Jiang Zhaohua removed Duan's mother’s shoes and socks, then submerged the gnarled, calloused feet into the basin of hot water.
As she scrubbed, her tears fell silently into the water.
In both her lifetimes, she had never once washed her own mother’s feet...
Even in her past life as a maid in Xie Residence, though she’d done plenty of hard labor, no one had ever forced her to perform such a degrading task... The Xie household forbade such bullying...
She had schemed to switch marriages with Jiang Yunshu, wedding the man every woman envied—Duan Jinxing. So why... why was she now enduring humiliations worse than anything she’d suffered before?
Duan's mother reveled in the sight of the marquis’s daughter kneeling before her.
When Jiang Zhaohua tried to rush through the task and flee, the old woman barked, "Massage my feet."
"Are you starving? Put some strength into it!"
Clenching her teeth, Jiang Zhaohua pressed harder. Unused to such labor, her hands soon ached, but Duan's mother refused to let her stop.
Jiang Zhaohua bit her lip until it bled. She thought—this must be how Jiang Yunshu suffered in her past life.
If Jiang Yunshu could endure it, so could she.
No one had known about Jiang Yunshu’s private humiliations. The world only saw her as the chancellor’s wife, a first-rank noblewoman...
No wonder Duan Jinxing had only petitioned for his wife’s noble title, not his mother’s. The old hag’s cruelty must have driven a wedge between them!
After the ordeal, Jiang Zhaohua returned to her chambers and ordered her maids to bring water. She scrubbed her hands raw, over and over.
Her attendants wept as they watched their mistress scour her once-delicate hands until they turned red and nearly bled.
"Miss, please stop!"
"Miss, your hands will be ruined!"
