Yan Sanhe looked at the old steward.

“What old matter? Tell me.”

“After Concubine Fu passed away, not everything was burned. A few miscellaneous small items were kept, which the master put away and displayed in his study.”

The old steward: “That year, the master had already become family head. On the twenty-fourth day of the twelfth month—the day for cleaning the house—a newly arrived maid was tidying the master’s study and swept out a teacup with a chipped rim.”

A chipped teacup couldn’t be used for drinking.

The maid reported this to Madam, who thought nothing of it and gave it as a reward to one of her personal attendants.

But when the master returned to the estate and heard about it, he charged directly into the attendant’s courtyard and snatched the teacup back.

“This old servant accompanied the master.”

The old steward: “On the way back, the master suddenly stopped and viciously cursed, ‘That foolish woman—she really damn well deserves to die.'”

Yan Sanhe’s brow jumped. “Who was he cursing?”

The old steward lowered his head. “At the time, I thought he was cursing Madam’s attendant. Only now do I understand—he was cursing Madam.”

Yan Sanhe pressed on. “Why do you understand it now?”

Because he had spent his entire life at the Zhu estate, serving two masters in succession.

Old Master had been a man of his word with a somewhat hard temperament, difficult to serve.

But the master had a good temperament. His words were never so harsh. Cursing someone with such gnashing hatred—that was a first.

The old steward paused slightly and said in a low voice, “Because the master then added another line… ‘She deserves to go to hell.'”

Everyone looked at the old steward with incredulous expressions.

Deserves to go to hell—that meant Zhu Xuanjiu had always known in his heart that after Madam Mao died, she would go to hell.

When Zhu Xuanjiu first married Madam Mao, it was to borrow her fortune.

After borrowing it until he became family head, he also used her to block calamity and heavenly punishment. Even though she bore the Zhu family three sons and three daughters, it still didn’t soften Zhu Xuanjiu’s heart one bit.

This was more than ordinary disgust, ordinary hatred.

It was disgust to the bone, hatred to the bone.

“Miss Yan.”

The old steward steeled himself and continued, “That teacup was one Concubine Fu had habitually used during her lifetime.”

So it really was because of Concubine Fu!

Young Master Pei found it strange and couldn’t help asking, “Don’t tell me Zhu Xuanjiu still used this teacup to drink tea?”

“Not really. The master displayed it on his desk. When troubled, he would pick it up and fondle it. Occasionally…”

The old steward stopped. “He would also brew tea in it.”

Yan Sanhe suddenly stood up, walked to the door on her own, and reached out to pull it open.

Outside, the snow had lessened.

A cold air rushed at her face. Yan Sanhe comfortably breathed in a few breaths, and her mind cleared considerably.

But no matter how clear, it couldn’t conceal the shock in her heart.

Concubine Fu had been dead for decades, yet Zhu Xuanjiu still kept her cup and often took it out to fondle—could this still be explained as mourning the deceased?

Probably not anymore.

Yan Sanhe stood by the door for a long time.

Long enough for the warm air in the room to be blown away by the cold wind outside, long enough for everyone’s tea in the room to grow cold. Only then did she close the door, turn around to look at Zhu Yuanmo, and ask:

“Madam Mao’s temperament was somewhat outgoing and carefree, correct?”

Zhu Yuanmo didn’t know the purpose of this question, so he could only answer truthfully. “My mother never held grudges overnight. Whatever she thought in her heart, she would say with her mouth. She had a cheerful temperament.”

Yan Sanhe: “Besides being cheerful, she was also very proactive and skilled at socializing?”

Zhu Yuanmo: “Miss is correct. Whenever my mother set her mind to befriending someone, she never failed.”

Yan Sanhe: “She also didn’t like to endure things. Whatever grievances in her heart, whatever pain in her body—she had to speak them out, cry them out.”

Zhu Yuanmo: “Yes.”

Yan Sanhe: “She liked to cling to Zhu Xuanjiu, liked to inquire about his affairs outside, and would get jealous.”

When it came to Zhu Xuanjiu, Zhu Yuanmo didn’t explain further, only nodded darkly.

“Her temperament was completely opposite to Concubine Fu’s.”

Yan Sanhe’s face showed deep mockery. “This is the second reason Zhu Xuanjiu detested Madam Mao.”

Because of her poor health, Concubine Fu was extremely introverted. Whatever was on her mind, she never showed it on her face.

And because she lived under another’s roof, she yielded in everything, was careful in everything. No matter how uncomfortable her body felt, she bit her teeth and didn’t make a sound.

During her years as Miss Fu, she always stayed quietly in the Wutong Courtyard, rarely going out.

She wasn’t good at socializing and didn’t like entertaining.

She was never proactive toward Old Master. If Old Master Zhu stayed in her room a few extra days, she would push him out.

One was fire, one was ice.

One was vibrant red, one was quiet white.

One was a magnificent and noble peony; one was an orchid blooming alone in an empty valley.

“Two people completely at opposite ends.”

Yan Sanhe: “Zhu Xuanjiu grew up accustomed to Concubine Fu’s quiet gentleness. Seeing Madam’s enthusiasm and extroversion, naturally he found her disagreeable in a hundred ways.”

“…No!”

Young Master Pei was somewhat confused. “…Why always compare Madam with Concubine Fu?”

Yes.

Why always compare with Concubine Fu?

“That’s a good question, but I can’t answer you right now.”

Please, please answer!

I’m dying of curiosity here.

Young Master Pei could only ask, “Is there a third reason?”

“Yes!”

Yan Sanhe: “The third thing Zhu Xuanjiu detested about Madam Mao was her natal family. When Madam Mao married Zhu Xuanjiu, it looked like a suitable match from outside, but actually Madam Mao was marrying down.”

Zhu Yuanmo: “My mother was a legitimate daughter.”

“Exactly.”

Yan Sanhe: “When the Geng family initially chose this son-in-law, first, their daughter was getting somewhat old and they were anxious. Second, Zhu Xuanjiu looked dignified and impressive. As a concubine’s son kept by the master’s side, they felt he had unlimited prospects. A legitimate daughter marrying a concubine’s son, bringing along such a large dowry—the two sides of the scale weren’t equal. So in the Mao family’s hearts, Zhu Xuanjiu was always the one who had married up. And once people have this mindset, their words and actions inevitably carry some arrogance.”

“Miss Yan, you’re absolutely right.”

Zhu Yuanmo: “My maternal grandmother always told others that my father has what he has now because of my mother’s good fortune, that my mother has the luck to prosper her husband.”

See, that was the reason.

“Any capable man hearing his mother-in-law say such things would feel uncomfortable, let alone Zhu Xuanjiu.”

Yan Sanhe: “Zhu Xuanjiu already had a guilty conscience. He was also the person with the deepest and darkest thoughts. How could he not develop hatred toward the Mao family?”

“Miss Yan, there’s another reason.”

Zhu Yuanzhao, who hadn’t spoken for a long time, suddenly spoke up. “My mother married far away. She was very protective of her natal family.”

Third Master Zhu Yuanhao chimed in, “Whenever the Mao or Geng families had any matters, they would come asking for help. Sometimes even we found it annoying.”

Zhu Yuanmo: “With my mother’s fiery temperament, no matter how busy he was, she would demand he help the Mao and Geng families immediately. My maternal grandmother was the same.”

“The matter is already very clear. The more Madam protected her natal family, the more Zhu Xuanjiu detested it. The more the Mao and Geng families troubled him, the more he detested them.”