At the mention of Han Zhi, Zhou Weiqi’s brow furrowed imperceptibly. She looked at her mother with some hesitation: “From childhood to now, this is the only time he has ever made a request of you, Mother. He has always been utterly devoted to us.” Devoted to the point of disregarding even his own safety, willing to sacrifice anything, even selling his own appearance—such a loyal and devoted person asking for the first time for a wife after his own heart, and they were unwilling to grant it. Wasn’t that going too far?

Lying on her side in the rocking chair, Fan Liangdi heard this and glanced at Zhou Weiqi with a half-smile, her voice habitually tinged with three parts coquettishness—though the words she spoke made one break out in cold sweat: “I wasn’t unwilling to grant his wish at first. But wasn’t it he himself who mortally offended his prospective wife? Opportunities like that—once missed, there’s no second chance. Besides, don’t you also know of Sixth Miss Song’s miraculous qualities? Having her in hand is tantamount to possessing a speaking treasure. The Cui clan behind her and the Song family alone are enough to let you sleep soundly at night.”

Otherwise, why would the Chen family be so frantic to bring down the Cui clan? Wasn’t it precisely because the Cui family’s power was growing daily, even affecting his interests in Xibei and his position in the Eastern Palace?

To speak of sentiment in politics and officialdom was tantamount to seeking one’s own death!

After this great battle, the Song and Cui families could truly be said to have become pure subjects before Emperor Jianzhang—willing to risk their lives and fortunes to expose Zhang Tianhe for the sake of the Xibei affair, with Ye Jingkuan fanning the flames behind them.

Thinking this far, her gaze suddenly turned sharp—the Cui clan still leaned more toward Zhou Weizhao, didn’t they?

Zhou Weiqi’s thoughts aligned with hers. Even Elder Chen could do nothing to the Cui and Song families; naturally, everyone would have their own measure in their hearts from now on. At least in the short term, no one would dare reach out toward the Song family again.

Moreover, Sixth Miss Song did indeed seem to be a lucky star—although Master Yuanhui was a great master, Zhou Weiqi and Fan Liangdi both knew whose side he was on. The words of such a Prince Duan partisan were not sufficient to inspire confidence. Saying Sixth Miss Song was a lone star of calamity? Yet she clearly led the Song family and the Cui clan past one pit after another.

He nodded expressionlessly, looking at Fan Liangdi seriously: “I will speak with cousin about this. Aside from Sixth Miss Song, I’ll grant him any other noble young lady. Mother should also speak with aunt, have aunt persuade him as well.”

Fan Liangdi’s eyes were utterly cold, though the smile on her face no longer carried its usual coquettish charm, but rather was full of mockery and harshness—speak? Why should they speak nicely? In Han Zhi’s eyes, Little Madam Fan was nothing but a mad, uncaring woman who once tried to poison him with her own hands. If not for needing her to bind the relationship between the Fan and Han families, she would have been better off dead long ago.

After seeing Zhou Weiqi out, Fan Liangdi’s personal nanny, Nanny Fang, stepped forward to gently massage her shoulders, while sighing despite herself: “You still shouldn’t push her too hard. Even a cornered rabbit will bite, and women all become fierce when they’re mothers.”

The Dongying envoys this time were a marriage-seeking delegation properly sent by a Dongying daimyo. They requested to marry a princess, and when a princess married, there must be accompanying maids. For this assignment that other noble young ladies avoided like the plague, Great Madam Fan actually thought to send Han Yueheng.

Nanny Fang had served Great Madam Fan since Xingyang and knew her temperament well. She clearly could have let Han Yueheng live more comfortably—not to mention marrying into the imperial family as some prince consort’s lady, marrying into a well-matched noble family was still achievable. Yet Great Madam Fan simply refused. She used Han Zhi and Little Madam Fan to the point of squeezing out their last drop of blood, and wouldn’t even spare Han Yueheng, preferring to have her go as an accompanying maid, separated from her homeland and family.

Great Madam Fan let out a contemptuous snort from her throat, cold intent staining the corners of her eyes and brows: “Bite? You let her bite once for me to see. Back then her mother couldn’t best my mother, do you think she can best me?”

She was nothing but a decoration at Marquis Jinxiang’s mansion, merely a bargaining chip to keep Han Zhengqing tied down. Such a person—if not for these two remaining advantages, would have died thoroughly more than a decade ago when giving birth to Han Zhi.

Nanny Fang lowered her head, her hands continuing their motions, though her face couldn’t help but show a trace of worry. The eldest miss had learned nothing else, but had learned her madam’s sharp tongue, duplicity, and two-facedness to perfection.

Scheming and tactics were certainly necessary, but having too hard and harsh a heart was truly not a good thing either. All the people below revered her more than they felt close to her—even herself, who had served her for so many years and nursed her from infancy, feared her more than felt affection, and when facing important difficulties would rather beseech the prince than speak to her.

Her Majesty the Empress had always been shrewd. Men couldn’t see through women, but women saw other women crystal clear. Because of this, Her Majesty the Empress had always been rather cool toward the eldest miss.

Thinking of her children far away in Xingyang, thinking of her husband still making his living under the Fan clan in Xingyang, she still tried to gather her courage to remind her: “These matters, Madam has always forbidden mention of at home. It’s been so many years—Liangdi is magnanimous and has great capacity, why must you still quarrel with a dead person? If Second Miss were to find out…”

If Little Madam Fan knew that the mother she had called “mother” for over thirty years was not her birth mother, she would probably be driven mad—these years she had truly suffered too much. If even her last thread of hope was gone, her son had become a knife in someone else’s hand, and her daughter had been separated by lands and seas never to meet again, heaven knows what she might do.

From beginning to end, Great Madam Fan maintained a restrained impatience. After listening, she leaned back in her chair, looking expressionlessly at her reddened nails. That Little Madam Fan’s mother had climbed into her father’s bed back then, and could still be raised as a legitimate daughter, growing up innocent, naive, and charmingly adorable—this had always been a scar on her heart.

From the day of her hairpin ceremony at fifteen when she learned this truth, she had instinctively loathed this person who was already fond of acting coquettish to the point of naive stupidity. Especially after Little Madam Fan came to the capital and actually became famous throughout the city with a single piece “High Mountains and Flowing Water,” it became even more unbearable for her.

Born of a maidservant, yet able to be registered under the legitimate wife’s name and be a legitimate daughter for over a decade—that was already the greatest fortune. Having enjoyed that fortune enough, naturally she should pay the price for those dozen years of glory, wealth, and carefree living that never belonged to her in the first place.

The Fan clan had raised her for over a decade, given her the honor and status of a legitimate daughter, let her marry into Marquis Jinxiang’s mansion as its mistress. Whatever she paid afterward, it was all proper and due.