Madam Liu’s face went pale for a moment, as though someone had poured a basin of cold water over her head.
She quickly resumed her aggrieved expression. Tears shimmered in her eyes, yet stubbornly refused to fall.
“Marquis, listen to what he’s saying! I was only trying to mediate out of the goodness of my heart, and now he’s claiming I arranged everything?”
Her voice was pitched perfectly—loud enough for Shi Yuanzhi to hear every word, yet quiet enough not to carry beyond the door.
Standing behind his desk, Shi Yuanzhi looked at Madam Liu’s face, caught somewhere between weeping and smiling. Something inside him seemed to be slowly cracking.
He remembered the year he had knelt before his parents and declared that he would marry her and no one else in this life. His father had been so furious that he smashed an entire tea set from the imperial kilns of the previous dynasty, while his mother had wept until she nearly fainted.
Back then, he had thought it was worth it. For this woman, he would have been willing to offend the entire world.
“Madam, answer me this. Did you know in advance that Madam Lin and the others were coming today?”
There was a weariness in Shi Yuanzhi’s voice that even he himself failed to notice.
Madam Liu’s eyes widened, as though she had just heard the most absurd joke in the world. An incredulous smile even tugged at the corners of her lips.
“I knew? Marquis, why don’t you tell me how I could have known? Am I some kind of immortal who can foretell the future?”
She took two steps forward, shortening the distance between them, her indignation lending her an air of absolute righteousness.
“The three madams arrived without warning. I didn’t even have time to change my clothes before going out to receive them. Instead of asking why the three of them came together, you’ve come here to interrogate me?”
Shi Yuanzhi found himself wavering again under the force of her words.
He knew Madam Liu too well.
From the time he had met her as a teenager until now, every time she had suffered some grievance, she had worn this exact expression—so self-righteous that one would think the collapse of the heavens had nothing whatsoever to do with her.
But today, he did not want to let the matter slide.
“Then tell me this: why did the three of them come at the same time? The capital is so large, yet the carriages of all three families happened to stop outside our marquisate on the very same day?”
Shi Yuanzhi’s questions were like a blunt knife—not sharp enough to cut cleanly, but sawing again and again at the place Madam Liu least wanted touched.
Her expression changed for an instant before she once again put on an innocent look.
Tears spilled from her eyes and slid down her cheeks, trembling on the verge of falling.
“What are you implying, Marquis? Do you suspect that I colluded with them to harm our family?”
“I married into the marquisate all those years ago, bore you two daughters, and managed this entire household. And now you’re suspecting me because of something a mere son of a concubine said?”
Shi Yuanzhi’s heart clenched at her words. His lips moved, and he almost said, “Forget it.”
Leaning against the doorframe, Shi Huai had watched the entire scene from beginning to end. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
“Father, you’ve been asking questions for quite some time, but Madam hasn’t answered a single one. You asked whether she knew in advance, and she said she didn’t. You asked why three families had come together, and she said she had no idea. You asked whether she had exchanged letters or met with anyone, and she accused you of suspecting her.”
Every word Shi Huai spoke struck Shi Yuanzhi’s ear like the tolling of a bell.
“You ask about the east, and she answers about the west. You ask about Zhang San, and she answers about Li Si. You’ve asked seven or eight questions, and she hasn’t given you a direct answer to even one of them.”
Shi Yuanzhi was jolted awake by his son’s words.
He looked at Madam Liu’s tear-streaked face and suddenly found it unfamiliar.
He had known this woman for decades, shared a bed with her for decades, and raised children with her for decades.
Yet the person standing before him now seemed to be someone entirely different from the woman in his memories.
“Madam, answer me. Did you know those three madams were coming today or not?”
Shi Yuanzhi’s voice was several shades heavier than before, carrying a stubborn determination not to let the matter go.
Madam Liu bit her lip. Her tears flowed even more fiercely, making her look like a flower nearly broken beneath the storm.
She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, her voice thick with sobs.
“Marquis, how many times do you want me to say it?”
“I truly didn’t know. If I had known, would I have gone out to receive them wearing that old jacket? Wouldn’t I have dressed properly first?”
Shi Yuanzhi’s gaze fell upon her.
The deep purple jacket was indeed somewhat worn, and the embroidery around the collar had faded.
He remembered that Madam Liu had indeed been wearing that garment while drinking tea in the front hall that morning. She had not looked as though she had changed especially to receive guests.
Shi Huai watched Shi Yuanzhi hesitate once more and quietly exhaled.
“Madam is right. You were indeed wearing an old garment when you went out to receive them, which proves that you didn’t know they were coming.”
“But, Madam, can you explain why, after the three of them arrived, you invited them into the front hall without asking what they had come for?”
Shi Huai’s question struck precisely at the greatest flaw in Madam Liu’s story.
Her sobbing faltered.
Then she became even more agitated, tears streaming down her face like beads spilling from a broken string.
“They are the wives of court officials. The moment they came to our door, they were our guests. Was I supposed to leave them standing outside?”
“Even if we are a marquisate, we can’t simply turn guests away!”
As Shi Yuanzhi listened, a thought suddenly surfaced in his mind.
He remembered that morning, when Madam Liu had uncharacteristically sent someone to the study with a bowl of soup. She had even instructed the maid to tell him not to overexert himself.
She had never done that before. Madam Liu had never cared how long he remained in his study, nor had she ever sent him soup or water.
“Was sending me that soup this morning deliberate? Did you intentionally keep me in the study so I wouldn’t go to the front hall and meet the guests?”
His question was like a pebble tossed into an already unsettled lake, sending ripples spreading in every direction.
Madam Liu’s expression changed as though someone had stepped on her tail. She suddenly retreated half a step, her eyes widening even further.
“Marquis, what are you talking about? I sent you soup because I cared about you! I was afraid you’d forget the time while reading and go hungry. Is that wrong?”
Her voice rose so sharply it nearly pierced the roof, and she looked as though he had touched the most painful place in her heart.
Seeing her overblown reaction, Shi Yuanzhi grew increasingly certain.
He had spent most of his life with Madam Liu. He knew every one of her expressions and every one of her gestures.
That reaction had not been anger at being falsely accused. It had been the panic of someone whose secret had been exposed.
“Madam, you’re lying to me.”
Shi Yuanzhi’s voice was not loud, but the certainty in his tone left Madam Liu frozen in place.
Her lips trembled. Tears still clung to her face, but her expression was no longer one of grievance. It had become the panic of someone who had been seen through.
Her fingers twisted and twisted inside her sleeves until her knuckles turned an unnatural white.
“Marquis, you would rather believe the word of a lowly son of a concubine than trust the wife who has shared decades of your life?”
Her voice held one last desperate struggle.
Shi Yuanzhi looked at Madam Liu’s face, already beginning to twist out of shape, and the taut string inside him suddenly snapped.
He remembered the first time he had met her. She had been wearing a pale yellow jacket, standing in the Liu family’s garden with a round silk fan in her hand, and she had smiled at him.
He had remembered that smile for decades—he had never been able to forget it.
Yet the woman standing before him now bore no resemblance at all to the woman in his memories.
“Madam, answer me. Were you lying to me?”
