What words could describe the atmosphere in the hall at this moment?

Deathly silent?

So quiet you could hear a pin drop?

Neither was sufficient.

The hall at this moment was like a malevolent formation had been cast—a kind of oppression you couldn’t break free from or escape.

The faces of the three Zhu brothers were worse than the last.

The worst was Eldest Master Zhu, practically colorless, staring blankly at Zhu Weijin without his eyeballs moving for ages.

Third Miss Zhu desperately twisted her handkerchief with both hands, shaking her head one moment, nodding the next, arguing with herself.

Young Master Pei was completely astonished, wishing he could sprout wings and immediately fly before Xie Zhifei to tell him everything he’d just heard.

Too damn shocking!

Yan Sanhe’s gaze silently fell on Zhu Weixi.

One was the father who loved her most.

One was the man she had once loved, even willing to elope with.

If the truth revealed there was indeed more to the story, for Zhu Weixi this would be nothing short of earth-shattering.

How would she live the rest of her life?

“Miss Yan, may I leave now?”

Zhu Weijin’s voice broke the deathly silence of the room.

Yan Sanhe was about to nod and say “yes” when someone spoke before her.

“No!”

Zhu Weixi raised her head, supporting herself on the chair back to stand.

She stood with great difficulty, her body swaying several times, frightening Li Buyan into quickly walking to her side to prevent her from falling.

Zhu Weixi’s eyes were red from crying, her eyelids slightly swollen. She walked step by step before Zhu Weijin, raised her head, met her gaze, then raised her hand.

“Smack—”

Heaven and earth stood still.

“What Father and Mother owe you doesn’t mean I owe you too. Two betrayals for one slap—you still came out ahead.”

The imposing aura that belonged uniquely to the Zhu family’s eldest young miss slowly emerged on Zhu Weixi’s swollen face.

“Zhu Weijin, you’ve been waiting for this day for a long time, haven’t you?”

Zhu Weijin covered half her face, slowly revealing a twisted smile.

“Yes, for a long time. I just wanted to see Eldest Sister’s agonized expression when she finally heard those words from Geng Songsheng.”

All that about fearing Zhu Weixi wouldn’t believe her—all lies.

She deliberately didn’t tell!

She slowly brought her face close, her eyes full of malice: “Eldest Sister, what if…”

“Li Buyan, help Zhu Weixi to the inner room to wash her face.” Yan Sanhe suddenly spoke.

“Why interrupt my words?”

Zhu Weijin turned her head, looking at Yan Sanhe with unusual fury: “I understand now—you’re biased toward her too.”

“Zhu Weijin, that’s enough!” Second Master Zhu slammed the table, so angry the veins on his forehead bulged one by one.

“See, every single one of you—every one biased toward her.”

Zhu Weijin’s expression became crazed.

“It’s been like this since childhood, always like this. Never changed, never changed!”

Yan Sanhe looked coldly at Second Master Zhu, then walked before Zhu Weijin and extended her finger, pointing at her brow.

Bone-chilling coldness rushed over.

Zhu Weijin instantly froze.

“Your father and mother had a moment of passion, engaged in conjugal relations, and bore you. Though they gave you life, they never asked your consent before privately bringing you into this world. This is their first wrong.”

Zhu Weijin was stunned.

Yan Sanhe: “Having born you, they failed to treat you equally, failed to be fair. This is their second wrong.”

What was she saying?

Waves of panic surged through Zhu Weijin’s heart.

*There are no parents who are not right*—these years she’d been neglected but didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare resent, fearing the weight of the character for “filial piety” would crush her into an unfilial person.

Yet Yan Sanhe said her parents were wrong, very wrong…

“Since they wronged you, you must find a way to forgive yourself. Spending a lifetime trapped in your ravine, resentment will only accumulate.”

Yan Sanhe looked at her, pity in her eyes: “So your resentment soars to the heavens.”

Zhu Weijin: “…” I’m full of resentment?

“Between your brows is a vertical line, very deep—clearly from frequent frowning.

Looking at your eyes, they’re full of malice. You find fault with everyone, want to pick at everyone. This isn’t capability—quite the opposite…”

Yan Sanhe pointed to her heart.

“This is inner weakness.”

“Where am I weak? Why should I be weak?”

Zhu Weijin completely panicked and roared: “What nonsense are you spouting?”

“Your mother also dotes on Third Brother, your father also dotes on Second Brother, but you don’t hate either of them. You only hate Zhu Weixi.”

Yan Sanhe’s sharp gaze fixed on her: “Why is that?”

“I…”

Zhu Weijin retreated half a step.

“Because the inwardly weak don’t dare bite those stronger than themselves. They only dare bite their own kind.”

Yan Sanhe narrowed her eyes, her voice suddenly sharp.

“Because Zhu Weixi is the same as you—just a weak woman who obeys her father at home, her husband when married, and her son after her husband dies.”

“…No, it’s not like that…”

Zhu Weijin shook her head repeatedly.

Yan Sanhe pressed forward a step: “Why is the Zhu family craft passed to sons but not daughters?”

Zhu Weijin: “…”

Yan Sanhe pressed forward another step: “Why can’t women even ask?”

Zhu Weijin: “…”

Yan Sanhe pressed forward again: “Look how intelligent you are, how observant. Why can’t you learn divination and feng shui?”

Zhu Weijin: “…”

With nowhere left to retreat, she collapsed into a chair.

“These questions—you don’t even dare think them, do you? Why don’t you dare? Because those who created these rules are all stronger than you.”

Yan Sanhe sneered coldly.

“You just now didn’t even have the courage to shout back at Second Brother. Why? Because he’s stronger than you!”

Zhu Weijin looked up at Yan Sanhe, motionless.

What was this person saying?

She understood each word individually, but together—what did they mean?

What did they mean??!!

“Don’t fixate only on Zhu Weixi. Spending a lifetime fixating on one person, comparing this and that with her—don’t you find yourself pitiful?”

Yan Sanhe extended her finger and smoothed the vertical line between Zhu Weijin’s brows.

“Do you really hate her that much? If you truly hate her, why do you dream of that crying whenever you return to the Zhu residence?”

Zhu Weijin: “…”

“Because you feel guilty toward Zhu Weixi.”

Yan Sanhe sighed.

“Because you know that in this matter, she did nothing wrong, Second Miss!”

I feel guilty?

Where do I feel guilty?

Nonsense, nonsense—all nonsense!

Yet tears slowly fell from Zhu Weijin’s eyes.

Yan Sanhe didn’t wipe them away. Instead, she withdrew her hand, stepped back half a pace, and said in an extremely calm tone:

“Let it all go. Their wrongs are their business. You must try to let go. Otherwise, you’ll spend your entire life as the Zhu residence’s Second Miss who never gets what she wants, rather than Zhu Weijin herself.”

Zhu Weijin’s tear-filled eyes suddenly widened.

What difference was there between the Zhu residence’s Second Miss and Zhu Weijin?

Wasn’t the Zhu residence’s Second Miss exactly Zhu Weijin?

“The Zhu residence’s Second Miss is what others call you. Zhu Weijin is who you truly are.”

Having said this, Yan Sanhe no longer looked at her. She turned and glanced at Young Master Pei.

“Mingting, escort the Zhu residence’s Second Miss out.”