The Situ family had served as military men for generations—leading troops in battle, guarding the frontiers, each one with a bold and fierce temperament.

Situ Yang’s father, Situ Wuyi, had originally been the commander of the Northwestern Army and was deeply trusted by the Emperor, who had entrusted him with great responsibilities.

Now that the realm was at peace and the frontiers were secure—the northern enemies of the northwest having been subdued several years prior—the Emperor had recalled Situ Wuyi to the capital, bestowed upon him the rank of Left Commander-in-Chief, and stationed him near the throne to receive imperial commands directly.

There were twenty-six imperial guards in the capital in total, and Situ Wuyi oversaw nine of them.

Though his official career was going smoothly, the affairs of his inner household were in utter disorder. His principal wife, Lady Chen, was the eldest legitimate daughter of the Duke of Yongguo—also the offspring of military men—a strong-willed and forthright woman who held firm control over the rear courtyard of the general’s household. All the various concubines and favorites Situ Wuyi had kept before their marriage were sent packing by Lady Chen in their entirety.

Unsurprisingly, the couple’s relationship was far from harmonious.

Situ Yang was Situ Wuyi’s second son, born of an outside woman he had kept during his garrison rotation away from the capital. Upon returning to the capital, Situ Wuyi had originally intended to bring the mother and son back to the general’s household—but Lady Chen flew into a fury and would not allow it. She threatened him with the Duke of Yongguo’s household, forcing Situ Wuyi to give up the plan and leave Situ Yang and his mother in the old family home in the countryside.

Situ Yang grew up in the countryside for a long time—raised in the wild, left to his own devices—and developed a thoroughly coarse set of habits. The clan members in the old home had received benefits from Lady Chen and did not trouble themselves to manage or restrain him. Proper upbringing, rules of conduct, scholarly learning—no one had ever spoken to Situ Yang of any of these.

Situ Wuyi was occupied with military affairs and had little time to attend to him. If the subject was never raised, he would scarcely remember that he had such a son.

Situ Yang’s birth mother was a poor country girl of modest looks who was narrow-minded and short-sighted, interested only in leveraging the fact that she had borne the general a son to collect benefits for herself. Left in the countryside where she might go three to five years without seeing the general even once, she grew resentful and bitter, and took all her frustrations out on Situ Yang.

Unloved by his father, uncared for by his mother, with no one to guide him—Situ Yang’s was indeed a pitiable existence.

Some ten or more years later.

Lady Chen’s firstborn son, Situ Zhuo, had been meant to carry on his father’s legacy. But he died in a tragic fall from horseback, leaving behind only a young daughter. In grief and desperation, with no other choice, Lady Chen was at last forced to consent to bringing back the outside woman’s son, Situ Yang, from the countryside.

Situ Yang was already fourteen when he was brought to the general’s household—his character essentially set by then, and very difficult to correct. He was at his most rebellious age, had gone abruptly from poverty to wealth, and with his stepmother constantly making trouble for him, Situ Yang was decidedly unhappy living in the capital’s general’s household. He simply gave himself over to indulgence, spending his days finding people to go out drinking and feasting and amusing himself—achieving nothing of substance.

He had earned himself the reputation of a “worthless playboy.”

When Situ Yang reached the age for marriage talks, every respectable family in the capital—knowing the situation at the general’s household—would not agree to marry a daughter into it. A husband who was unambitious and disregarded, a fierce and domineering stepmother—what noble young woman would willingly wade into such muddy waters?

There were indeed some who wished to ingratiate themselves with the general’s household and sent their daughters’ horoscopes over, hoping to arrange a match. This time it was Situ Yang’s turn to refuse—he said: “They’re all the kind who never step beyond their own gates, fiddling with needles and thread. Dull as anything—I won’t have them.”

Once this got out, no one came forward anymore.

Because of Situ Yang’s lack of ambition, in these past two years, Situ Wuyi and Lady Chen had actually grown more “united” in their concerns. Lady Chen was older now and could no longer bear children. She stopped throwing fits and, of her own initiative, took a lesser female cousin from the Duke of Yongguo’s household and offered her as a concubine for General Situ.

That concubine was now heavily with child, and once she produced a son, Situ Yang would face even more contempt than before.

……

……

Pei Shaohuai had pieced together Situ Yang’s background from fragments heard here and there, and he agreed with his mother’s view: with such a complicated family situation, Situ Yang was certainly not a suitable match.

“He may only be briefly taken with her,” Pei Shaohuai said to reassure Lin Shi. “Once he has been snubbed by Second Elder Sister a time or two, he’ll stop coming on his own. Mother need not worry about this matter—given Second Elder Sister’s temperament, she would never look twice at Situ Yang.”

“Hear me, going on worrying about this and that again.” Lin Shi laughed at herself and changed the subject: “Today is Cold Dew. I’ve had Nanny Shen slow-braise a lamb hot pot—nourishing and warming. You should eat well.”

That afternoon.

Ying Jie’er came to Pei Shaohuai’s courtyard and asked: “Little brother, have you brought back the new edition of Compendium of Materia Medica from the bookshop in the south of the city?” He had promised her this some time ago.

“Chang Fan has only just gone out—he should be back in about half an hour,” Pei Shaohuai replied. “Sister has nothing to do while waiting—shall we play a game of chess?”

“All right.”

On the criss-crossed board, black and white stones traded moves, encircling and capturing each other—and in the end, it was Pei Shaohuai who played with greater skill, and won against his sister.

“Next time I’ll bring Zhu Jie’er along to cut down that smugness of yours,” Ying Jie’er muttered.

When the game was over, the time was just right. Chang Fan returned from the bookshop in the south of the city, carrying a large stack of volumes into the courtyard. Pei Shaohuai took the books he needed, Ying Jie’er also received her Compendium of Materia Medica, but there was still one volume remaining—a set in a finely crafted small box, containing the Book of Songs.

The paper was of exceptional quality, the binding more elegant than an ordinary book, and there were colored illustrations throughout.

Pei Shaohuai thought to himself—he hadn’t asked Chang Fan to buy such a set. He asked: “Chang Fan, how is it that there’s an extra set of the Book of Songs? Did you take the wrong one?”

Chang Fan only then remembered and hastily explained: “I nearly forgot to mention… The bookshop’s proprietor said this set was specially ordered by Miss Lan of our household, and asked that we bring it back along the way to save the trouble of an extra errand.”

Pei Shaohuai nodded in understanding. Lan Jie’er was typically flamboyant, with a fondness for elaborate and ornate things. Having a special-order set of beautifully crafted books made was entirely in keeping with her character.

He was about to have Chang Fan deliver it to her at once when, as if on cue, the maidservant who attended on Lan Jie’er—Bi Yu—arrived.

“Your maidservant pays respects to Young Master Huai and Miss Ying.” Bi Yu curtseyed in greeting and explained the purpose of her visit: “Miss ordered a set of books from the south of the city bookshop, and just now sent someone to collect them, but as it happened, the proprietor said Chang Fan had already taken them… Miss specifically sent your maidservant to come and fetch them.”

“Is this the set?”

“It is.”

Bi Yu received the books, curtseyed again and said: “Thank you, Young Master Huai. Your maidservant takes her leave.”

After Bi Yu departed, Pei Shaohuai slowly began to turn things over in his mind, and the more he thought, the more he felt there was something suspicious about it.

Lan Jie’er normally preferred poetry and song lyrics with florid and ornate language—so if she had gone to the trouble of commissioning a custom set, why had she chosen the Book of Songs, with its clear and unembellished verse? Furthermore, Lan Jie’er seemed far too eager for this set of books—Chang Fan had barely just returned, and almost immediately Bi Yu had come on his heels.

When had Lan Jie’er ever been so passionate about her studies?

So there was something in this set of books she valued greatly.

Connecting this to the fate and ending Lan Jie’er had met in the original book, a frightening thought surfaced in Pei Shaohuai’s mind—surely this set of books had nothing to do with that scoundrel scholar? A chill ran down his back, leaving him damp with cold sweat.

The man had not been absent after all—he had simply appeared in a place where Pei Shaohuai could not watch.

The more Pei Shaohuai thought about it, the more uneasy he became, and the more his suspicion seemed to him to be well-founded. And yet he dared not startle the situation prematurely. After these years of living alongside Lan Jie’er, he had come to understand her well—she was born a person who would always court trouble. If he alarmed her now, he might block her this one time, but could not block her the next. Drive away one scoundrel scholar and there might be a whole queue of scoundrels waiting behind him.

Only by fully understanding the situation could he root out the trouble at its source. Pei Shaohuai did not want that bolt of lightning to hang indefinitely over his head, waiting to strike without warning—it kept him in perpetual dread.

On one side of his mind, Pei Shaohuai prayed that Lan Jie’er was only just beginning to feel the first stirrings of affection, and had not yet reached the stage of dry tinder meeting open flame. On the other side, he reasoned that Lan Jie’er had, in these recent days, only gone to the theater—if there were any trysts, they could only be happening at the theater. He decided he would follow her there that evening to investigate.

……

After the evening meal, Lan Jie’er set out first for the theater.

Pei Shaohuai told Lin Shi he also wanted to go and see the new opera.

“Didn’t you always say you didn’t enjoy watching opera and found it dull?”

“I’ve been tired from reading—I want to find something else to do, to refresh myself.” Pei Shaohuai offered as his excuse.

Lin Shi prepared an escort for him and told the servants to watch over him carefully. She also reminded Huai Ge’er to come straight home after the first performance and not to linger in play, as he had to return to the study hall the following day.

……

That evening in the theater, the audience was not particularly large.

Pei Shaohuai chose a private box directly across from Lan Jie’er’s and kept a discreet watch on her. The performance began, and everything proceeded as normal—Lan Jie’er sat quietly in the box, listening attentively to the opera together with her two maidservants, and showed no unusual behavior whatsoever. So much so that Pei Shaohuai began to wonder whether he was being oversensitive and had let his imagination run away with him.

The opera reached its second half. A long and sustained vocal passage rang out from the stage, and the audience below responded with waves of acclaim, reaching the most stirring and moving segment, followed by the denouement of the lovers being united at last.

Yet during such a scene as this—one not to be missed under any circumstances—Lan Jie’er rose from her seat, said something to her two maidservants, and quietly slipped out through the back door of the box.

When Pei Shaohuai saw this, his heart leapt instantly to his throat. So there was indeed something going on.

He also rose, and said to the matrons and servants attending him: “I’m going out to get some fresh air.”

Chang Fan followed, meaning to trail after his young master. Pei Shaohuai waved him off and said: “I’ll be right in the back corridor by the rear door. You all keep watching the opera—you needn’t follow me.”

Only then did he slip away, trailing Lan Jie’er at a distance until he followed her into the garden behind the theater.

……

The theater garden was not in use that day, and the stage stood empty with no performers. A few lanterns hung around the perimeter, casting a dim light. Waves of cheering came from inside the theater, making the garden feel still and deserted by contrast.

A winding path led deeper into the garden, with several osmanthus trees half-concealing a small pavilion. There was but a single lantern, its faint glow falling on Lan Jie’er’s face, just enough to make out her expression of happy anticipation.

She leaned against the pavilion railing, her gaze fixed on the rear gate of the garden, waiting for someone.

The wooden gate creaked as it was pushed open from outside, and a white-robed young man entered, stepping forward with measured, unhurried strides—graceful and poised. Though the night made it difficult to see clearly, his outline was enough to suggest a scholar of rather fine looks.

The young woman, demure and coy; the scholar, dashing and romantic.

They had perhaps not long been drawn to each other, and Lan Jie’er had not yet fallen in too deeply. The two stood face to face in conversation, exchanging tender words, with nothing more presumptuous passing between them. At last, the sound of the performers taking their final bows drifted out from the theater—the time had come, and Lan Jie’er had to go.

The white-robed young man detained her a moment, and handed her a letter.

Lan Jie’er received it with a bashful, downward glance. After a brief hesitation, she tossed her handkerchief out to him, then turned and ran back inside, back to the theater.

At the sight of this, Pei Shaohuai had no time for anger—his mind had already turned to calculating how to handle this properly. Since they had now reached the stage of exchanging keepsakes, Lan Jie’er was one step away from the edge of a precipice. This matter could no longer be concealed from his father and mother.

What he was truly worried about right now was how to retrieve Lan Jie’er’s handkerchief. If this scoundrel scholar were to produce the handkerchief as proof and use it to make demands—threatening the Earl’s Manor into giving their daughter in marriage—what could be done? However much Lan Jie’er was in the wrong, headstrong and reckless, having made this mistake herself—he still could not stand by and watch her be married off into a wolf’s den.

Yet he was still young and small in stature—there were many things he simply could not do.

The white-robed scholar was making his way along the path, preparing to leave through the rear gate. Pei Shaohuai was still hesitating over whether to follow when—

Suddenly, from the shadow of the wall, a dark figure lunged forward, seized the scholar by the collar, dragged him out to a deserted dark corner outside the garden, and pressed him hard against the stone wall. Without a word of preamble, the figure raised its fists and landed several solid blows squarely on the scholar’s face. The scholar cried out in pain, his cries mingling with the cheering from inside the theater in an oddly harmonious counterpoint.

The dark figure was considerably larger and taller than the scholar. He spat on the scholar’s face and bellowed: “You sly, scheming, black-hearted filth—you’ve got a lot of nerve snatching Miss Lan’s handkerchief, you wretch! I, your lord and master, am going to teach you a proper lesson today and make sure you remember who your father is.”

Then came another round of fists.

The white-faced scholar could neither see who it was nor find any chance to defend himself, and could only cover his head and cry out.

When it was done, the dark figure reached into the scholar’s sleeve pocket with one hand, pulled out Lan Jie’er’s handkerchief, and then—groping further—extracted several more handkerchiefs. Evidently some other young ladies from other households had also been deceived.

Not wanting to get the wrong ones or miss any, the dark figure took the whole lot away in one sweep.

“Your lord and master has clearly not beaten the wrong person.” He gave the scholar one final kick for good measure.

The scholar had no idea who the dark figure was. But from his hiding place among the trees, Pei Shaohuai recognized that coarse and unmistakable voice.

So he had seen it too—whether this was fortunate or unfortunate, Pei Shaohuai was not quite sure.

……

Back inside the theater, Chang Fan saw his young master return and the expression of anxious worry on his face finally eased. He said: “Young Master, where did you go? You had us half frantic with worry just now.” If anything had gone amiss, every one of the matrons and servants would have suffered for it.

“Just stepped out to relieve myself,” Pei Shaohuai replied. “Let’s go home.”

……

……

His father was still at the Imperial Academy, his grandmother doted on her granddaughter and could be naive about such matters, and his grandfather was not suited to managing the affairs of the inner household. When it came down to it, there was no one else—it had to be his mother.

The night was already deep, and a black crow swept past, its call harsh and brief.

Pei Shaohuai found his mother, closed the door, and said: “Please, Mother, have someone lock down the Earl’s Manor immediately.”

At the word “lock down,” Lin Shi’s expression tightened sharply. She knew her son well—for all his early maturity, this was certainly no joke. She asked: “What has happened?”

“When Second Elder Sister was returning home from watching the opera tonight, while passing through a dark stretch of road, she was violently shoved down by a vicious servant and sustained serious injuries. Given the severity of this incident, I ask Mother to seal the entire manor, prohibit all movement in or out of the household, and spare no effort to find the guilty servant. In the meantime, Second Elder Sister must rest and recover in her courtyard, and be attended to with the utmost care.”

Lin Shi understood this was a fabricated account. If there had been any such incident, it would never be Huai Ge’er who came to report it—the matrons managing the outer affairs were not all just for show.

Pei Shaohuai leaned close to his mother’s ear and quietly recounted everything he had witnessed that evening—Lan Jie’er’s meeting with the white-robed scholar—telling her every detail.

Lin Shi’s expression changed. Understanding the gravity of the situation, she had no time to be angry, and did not pause to ask her son for further details. She immediately summoned a trusted aide and, using the pretext her son had given, locked down the manor. She sent people to isolate everyone from Lan Jie’er’s courtyard and place them under separate watch. Nanny Shen, taking matrons with her, went and personally bound Lan Jie’er and placed her under strict supervision.

Lin Shi personally led her people to search Lan Jie’er’s room. Sure enough, she found several letters at the bedside—and from a concealed compartment in the Book of Songs box, she extracted a bound collection of poetry:

Garden of Spring Color, composed by Wu Lang.

The letters were thick with ornate and flowery language, openly declaring love, proclaiming a desire to take her as his wife and be faithful for life. Before the proper formalities of three matchmakers and six betrothal gifts, such words were laughable and entirely without foundation.

And yet, it was precisely this kind of sweet talk that had bewildered Lan Jie’er and turned her head.

The two bold-faced maidservants who attended Lan Jie’er were quickly made to confess as well. They said: Miss received the first volume of Wu Lang’s poetry collection last month, was deeply taken with it, and could not put it down. It is not known who served as the intermediary, but someone helped her find out who he was and arranged for them to be introduced. The two had at first only exchanged letters and seen each other from a distance at the theater. Last evening was the first time they had met privately.

Their first private meeting, and yet his letters were already written in such heated terms.

If they were to meet several more times, what then? Lin Shi shuddered with horror.

……

……

Having now obtained the evidence, Lin Shi was in a position to report the matter to the Old Master and the Old Madam, and she dispatched someone to the Imperial Academy to temporarily summon Pei Bingyuan home—indicating that there was an urgent matter requiring his return.

Old Master Pei was so furious his mustache trembled. Old Madam Pei fainted, then came to, and wept: “It’s all my fault for spoiling her—Shizhen, however you see fit to handle this, handle it so, and don’t mind my face any longer…”

Lian Jie’er was the eldest sister and the blood sister—she also ought to have been informed. But Lin Shi sighed and said: “Lian’er is pregnant. If she were to learn of this and something went wrong, wouldn’t that be a terrible sin? As for the Xu household—we’d be left unable to remain relatives even.” She gave specific instructions that contact with the Xu household should proceed as usual over the next few days, and Huai Ge’er and Jin Ge’er should continue going to the study hall on schedule—but not a trace of what had happened was to show.

At the theater, Lin Shi dared not halt business, for fear of attracting notice from outsiders—everything was to continue as normal.

……

In the room, Lan Jie’er had been tightly bound to a chair.

Lin Shi walked in, sat down before her, and for the first time was not wearing her usual expression of quiet goodwill. She threw those disgraceful letters squarely at Lan Jie’er’s face and said: “I had intended to burn these things that offend the eyes—but your father has not yet returned, and it is not proper for me to act unilaterally.”

“How vicious you are,” Lan Jie’er said through clenched teeth. Even now, she had not realized she was in the wrong.

“You still do not know your error!”

“What error have I made?” Lan Jie’er cried out with desperate ferocity: “Elder Sister married into a scholarly family—all well and good, a thousand times wonderful. Now I have found a man of letters, and suddenly it’s this fault and that fault. Or could it simply be that he comes from a poor family…”

Slap. Slap.

Before Lan Jie’er could finish speaking, Lin Shi gave her two sharp, resounding slaps across the face. “Those are on behalf of your blood sister and the Xu family.”

“I thought you were merely willful—now I see you are a simpleton without a brain, and a thankless wretch.” Lin Shi said: “Your elder sister was brought to the Xu household through three proper matchmakers and six betrothal gifts, carried in an eight-sedan-chair wedding procession with full ceremony and honor. What in the world is this? This is shamelessness, it is secret licentious conduct, it is self-degradation—and you have the audacity to speak of it aloud… All the more a disgrace when your elder sister spent her whole life running back and forth for you, pouring out her whole heart for you.”

Lin Shi continued: “What kind of upright scholar buries himself in hard study to build a future for his family and for himself—who would have his mind on such frivolous, romantic verses and songs? How dare you compare the Xu family with a man of such hidden and scheming intentions? Do you know what you are even saying?”

Knowing that speaking words alone would not turn Lan Jie’er back, Lin Shi could not be bothered to waste any more words. She instructed the matrons to keep close watch, and left.

The following day, Pei Bingyuan rushed home in a panic. After he learned the full circumstances from beginning to end, this man of normally mild temperament was so infuriated that his face turned crimson, and he picked up a chair, declaring he would beat this unfilial daughter to death—only to be stopped again and again by Lin Shi and Old Madam Pei.

Pei Bingyuan pointed at Lan Jie’er and shouted: “Where do you put your siblings? Where do you put your father? Where do you put this household?”

After a night of deep reflection, Lin Shi was considerably calmer and more clear-headed by this point. She stepped in front of Pei Bingyuan and urged: “Her mind is clouded right now—she can’t find her way out. Even if you said ten thousand things to her, she might not take in a single one… Please steady yourself, and let me handle this. I have already sent people to investigate that scoundrel’s background—in two days we should have word. Once she learns the truth of his character, persuading her will not be too late.”

Pei Bingyuan smoothed his temper, and asked about the scoundrel scholar. Lin Shi, out of earshot of Lan Jie’er, replied: “Someone beat him up and left him with a bruised and swollen face last night—I’ve had people keep watch over him, so he can’t cause any trouble. Once we’ve sorted out matters at home, we’ll deal with him then.”

She quietly offered comfort as well: “I called my husband home not to make him anxious. The matter was caught early—nothing has truly happened. Once it is properly handled, we can then guide her through it calmly.”

Pei Bingyuan found this reasonable, and his state of mind settled considerably.

That evening at the onset of night, a messenger arrived from the Xu household saying that Lian Jie’er had gone into labor. By midnight, the Xu household sent word again—a child had been safely delivered. A baby girl.

Both mother and daughter were well, and all had gone smoothly.

The following day should have been one of the whole family going joyfully to congratulate Lian Jie’er—but the messy situation at home was not yet resolved. The Old Madam’s eyes were still red and swollen, so Lin Shi had to collect all her emotions and go alone to visit Lian Jie’er.

Lian Jie’er had just given birth and was still weak. She was, however, an acutely perceptive woman, and asked Lin Shi: “Why have I not seen Grandmother and Lan Jie’er… Has something happened at home?” From childhood, she and Lan Jie’er had relied on each other—there was no way Lan Jie’er would fail to visit her without reason now that she had just had a child.

“You’re overthinking it,” Lin Shi quickly covered. “It has just gotten cold after Cold Dew—they caught a chill and were worried about bringing the cold air to you and the baby… Recover well, and once they are better, they will come to see you with great happiness.”

With considerable effort, Lin Shi managed to gloss over the matter—though how much of the explanation Lian Jie’er actually believed was another question.

Coming back from the Xu household, Lin Shi could no longer hold herself together. She came before Lan Jie’er, and the two of them alone in the room, she said outright: “You truly are a thankless wretch—you do not deserve Lian’er’s affection.” With that, her tears came streaming down in a torrent and could not be stopped.

As a woman herself, Lin Shi knew full well what danger giving birth entailed.

She choked out the words: “She had only just walked back through the gates of death, and the first thing she did was worry and ask whether something had happened to you… With a sister this good, you could be so selfishly thoughtless as to cause all this trouble. Let me ask you this, Pei Ruolan—if word of what you have done gets out: setting aside what becomes of this Earl’s Manor, think only of your own blood sister, and of the baby girl she has just brought into the world. Could you look them in the eye? How would they ever hold their heads up in the Xu household? If this is not the heart of a wolf and the lungs of a dog, then what is it?”

Pei Ruolan had never once seen her stepmother weep so bitterly. Those words had struck straight at her spine, as though each one were a small creature gnawing at her from within.

She truly had not thought of a single person in this family—including the elder sister who had already left home in marriage.

Was she heartless? Yes.

And yet… all she had ever wanted was a husband who would love her wholeheartedly and without reservation.

……

Two days later, the person Lin Shi had sent to gather information finally returned.

Lin Shi had someone clear out a room next to Lan Jie’er’s, and before long, a village woman from a farming family was brought in with eyes covered and seated on a chair, looking rather ill at ease.

Lin Shi sat down across from her and questioned her directly: “In a moment, I will ask you questions, and you need only answer me truthfully. As long as you are honest, the reward that was promised to you will be delivered in full.”

The village woman nodded repeatedly and thanked her in advance.

“Do you know Wu Lang?”

“I do.”

“What is your relationship with him?”

“I’m his female cousin on his mother’s side—we grew up in the same village.”

“And what else?”

The village woman hesitated visibly, then stumbled and wavered before finally, with great effort, mustering her courage—tears seeping through the black cloth tied over her eyes—and in a choked voice, said: “He and I… we were together. Three times I drank the red flower brew…”

She continued: “I’ll admit, I had a liking for him—he’s a scholar, and he’s good-looking, so I pursued him on my own… But he shouldn’t have deceived me. He never intended to take me as a proper wife. His mother never considered me good enough, but he deceived me and said he would give me a proper standing—made me believe him…”

“I brought it on myself.” The village woman wept softly.

Lin Shi asked again: “Why did they not want you?”

“He’s a scholar—his mother had her eye fixed on him marrying a wealthy woman who could bring the whole family into the county town to live a comfortable life.” The village woman said. “With his looks like that, he draws the liking of young women.”

Lin Shi could not bring herself to continue questioning. She knew that if she pressed on, still more sordid things would surface. But she felt that what she had already heard was sufficient—there was no need to continue handing this woman more knives to cut herself with. It was too damaging to the spirit.

“Take her out, and see her home,” Lin Shi instructed. “Give her the amount she named.”

Had she any choice, she would not wish to play this role of the villain.

……

Back in the neighboring room, Lin Shi saw Lan Jie’er slumped in the chair, and had it not been for the ropes binding her, she would likely have collapsed to the floor. Her face was ashen, her eyes vacant and hollow as she stared at the ceiling beams—clearly wounded deeply, yet unable to shed a single tear.

“If you think I deliberately found someone to deceive you, I cannot help that.” Lin Shi said. “I am after all only your stepmother—I have never once received from you so much as the word ‘Mother.’ I have done more than enough in this matter.”

Lan Jie’er’s lips trembled, yet no words came.

“What do you wish to say?” Lin Shi moved closer.

A thread of clarity returned to Lan Jie’er’s eyes, and sound slowly began to form in her throat. When it could finally be heard, only these words came: “Liu Jiaojiao… Liu Jiaojiao…”

Lin Shi’s expression changed completely.

“…She knows about this matter too… Liu Jiaojiao knows…”