Song Chuyi’s words exploded thunderously in Madam Fang’s ears. She covered her ears for quite a while before feeling her chaotic mind clear up slightly. The moment she thought about how next time it would be her own family pushed forward, her heart turned to ash, feeling as if a breath was stuck in her chest making even breathing somewhat difficult. But when she wanted to ask Song Chuyi more questions, she discovered that Song Chuyi had already gracefully walked away.

This Miss Song the Sixth appeared innocent and naive on the surface, yet every single word she spoke was designed to drive a wedge between the Fang family and the Chen family. Madam Fang stared blankly at the school of fish in the lake, yet her heart couldn’t summon any disgust toward such candid manipulation. She knew Miss Song the Sixth was right—the Chen family had been able to ruthlessly push the Wang family forward to die in their stead without extending any aid, even immediately drawing a clear line of separation. In the future, they could treat the Fang family the same way.

In comparison, the Song family, who had always been quiet and unassuming, indeed appeared far more reliable. She shook her head, trying to make herself more alert and spirited, summoning a maid to lower the curtains and tidy her appearance before heading to the flower hall.

Old Madam Chen was exchanging pleasantries with the Duke of Yingguo’s wife, her slightly plump body leaning against the armrest, all smiles.

Thinking of her unfortunate and ill-fated daughter, the dissatisfaction in Madam Fang’s heart finally surged up overwhelmingly, nearly drowning her—clearly the Chen family was the mastermind, yet the unlucky ones were the Fang and Wang families. The Chen family wouldn’t even help with the smallest favor within their power, afraid of being implicated.

She couldn’t stand watching anymore. After forcing herself to sit for a while longer, she stood up as if her seat was on fire and walked outside—she needed to find Miss Song the Sixth and ask whether her words had been instructed by the elders in her family, so she could decide what to do next.

But after Song Chuyi left the pavilion and crossed the bridge, she was blocked by Shen Qingrang in the flower bushes—he looked lost and devastated, with dark circles under his eyes that even powder couldn’t conceal. These past days must have truly been unbearable suffering for him.

Yet she couldn’t muster any sympathy for him. In her previous life, she had exhausted her life and passion in this very garden, and back then Shen Qingrang had never shown her even the slightest bit of mercy. The Song Chuyi who would worry anxiously over even a scraped bit of skin on Shen Qingrang’s hand had long since died—died in Shen Qingrang’s indifference and heartlessness, and died in the desperate web of emotions she had woven for herself.

In this life, she would absolutely never repeat those mistakes. She looked at Shen Qingrang with near coldness, her words like a sharp, newly-unsheathed sword stabbing viciously into Shen Qingrang’s heart: “Just now Miss Tong flew into a rage over Seventh Young Master. Whether for your own sake or for mine as an innocent person implicated in this, Seventh Young Master, please conduct yourself properly to avoid unnecessary misunderstandings.”

Shen Qingrang finally felt that even this cold and distant expression was ten times more appealing than Tong Shao’s arrogant and overbearing ugliness. Unable to help himself, he stepped forward twice, wanting to hold Song Chuyi’s hand as he used to when they were children: “Sixth Sister, everything I did before was wrong…”

He couldn’t continue. Thinking of the carefree times of childhood, thinking of those days when everything went smoothly and he could do as he pleased, he actually choked up somewhat.

Song Chuyi retreated two steps, looking at him with extreme wariness as if viewing something disgusting, almost scolding him sternly: “Seventh Young Master, please show some self-respect! I came today to attend the chrysanthemum appreciation banquet, not to watch the jokes of your household.”

This single sentence reminded Shen Qingrang. He opened his mouth wanting to say more, but was immediately pushed by a great force, staggering backward several steps before steadying himself.

Ye Jingchuan extended his hand to shield Song Chuyi behind him, looking at Shen Qingrang with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes: “You’ve really grown capable, Shen Seven. If I’m not mistaken about the date, today is the banquet hosted jointly by your new sister-in-law and your younger sister. For you to block another young lady like this—isn’t that rather inappropriate?”

Ye Jingchuan was strong and tall. With one push he sent Shen Qingrang several steps away, blocking Song Chuyi completely as he looked impatiently at Shen Qingrang: “If you’re looking for someone to reminisce with, you’ve found the wrong person. Your family hasn’t dragged Miss Song the Sixth down enough? Do you really need the Earl of Changning’s manor to completely tear off all pretense with your family before you’re satisfied? I advise you to rein in those improper thoughts. Rather than wasting this effort, you’d be better off properly coaxing that harpy of yours.”

Shen Qingrang didn’t dare cross Ye Jingchuan. His last improper thoughts were mercilessly trampled out. He stood dejectedly under the tree shade, watching as Ye Jingchuan and Song Chuyi turned around the small path and disappeared through the flower bushes.

There was no hope left. He covered his face with both hands and crouched down, exhausted and deeply saddened, asking himself why things had come to this point. Why had he ended up stuck with a clingy pest like Tong Shao? Why had Song Chuyi, who had always flocked to him, suddenly become completely disdainful of him?

Why was it that even though he had already lowered his pride to beg Song Chuyi, she was no longer willing to turn back? When she was young, she had clearly followed behind him every day calling “Seventh Brother this” and “Seventh Brother that.” Whatever he said, there was nothing she wouldn’t agree to.

Father had even said that since Miss Six was willing to come today, perhaps there was still a sliver of hope. But where was any hope now? For the rest of his life, he would have to face that ugly woman who walked with an uneven limp…

Ye Jingchuan escorted Song Chuyi to the garden where the female guests were gathered and wouldn’t go further. After hesitating for a while, he called out to stop Song Chuyi as she was turning to leave, asking somewhat awkwardly: “That lantern I gave you—do you still like it? At night when you turn off the lights, it will glow… like all the stars in the sky have fallen into your room…”

This appearance of being so careful and yet afraid she wouldn’t like it made Song Chuyi’s heart suddenly soften, as if she could see through him to her previous life’s self, who had similarly been cautiously holding out a sincere heart.

Then she nodded somewhat flustered and randomly, walking toward Madam Fang who was approaching her.

Madam Fang stopped before her, lowering her voice to ask: “Those words Miss Six spoke to me just now—do Old Master Song and Old Madam Song know about them? Did the elders in your family instruct you to say them?”

Song Chuyi collected her emotions and revealed a brilliant smile, tilting her head up to look at Madam Fang, answering smoothly and readily: “Yes, I heard my grandfather and grandmother mention it. They said it would be a pity if Minister Fang continued following the Chen family.”

Following the Chen family would be a pity, so what about following the Song family? Would that not be a pity then? For the Song family’s people to say this—they must be trying to win over the Fang family, right? Madam Fang stood in a daze for a moment before coming back to her senses, smiling kindly at Song Chuyi: “Aunt understands now. I heard that the Princess Consort is a Buddhist devotee who goes to the temple to offer incense on the first and fifteenth of each month. Next time there’s an opportunity, please invite me along.”