The sky was still dim, not yet fully light, and the entire Prime Minister’s residence lay deep in sleep. Ziqing walked back to her courtyard alone, lost in thought the whole way. The only lead she had now was that the man was connected to the imperial palace—should she pay a visit to the palace herself?
Just as she was mulling this over, flames suddenly blazed up on all sides—archers who had lain in ambush for who knew how long instantly surrounded her, bows drawn and ready to fire!
Ziqing’s expression turned grave in an instant. What was going on?
She saw the Prime Minister striding out from one side, his hair standing on end with fury. “Ungrateful daughter! Your mother is kind and virtuous, yet you’ve shown yourself so vicious and cruel! If I don’t deal with you properly today, I’ll no longer bear the Han name!”
Ziqing swept a glance over the surrounding archers and said with perfect composure, “Qing’er doesn’t understand what Father means.”
No sooner had she spoken than a cold arrow whistled through the air with vicious force, striking Ziqing squarely in the shoulder.
Han Xi’er, her face veiled behind a thin gauze, emerged now flanked by two black-clad archers. She yanked the veil away and screamed sharply, “Han Ziqing, if you don’t understand, then take a good look! This young miss is returning this face to you today!”
Both cheeks bore inch-long scars, split open, still red and swollen, the wounds already blackened—hideous enough to turn the stomach, made all the more horrifying by the ferocious expression twisting Han Xi’er’s face.
Ziqing gripped the arrow lodged in her shoulder, her sharp eyes turning cold. The arrow was poisoned! She could already feel numbness spreading through her limbs. It seemed this group had come thoroughly prepared today—meeting them head-on would only put her at a disadvantage.
“This is nothing more than the small matter of two slaps. Does Father really need to make such a grand spectacle of it?” she said, her composure unshaken, turning her gaze to the Prime Minister.
“A small matter?” the Prime Minister roared in fury. “You ruined your sister’s face, and you call that a small matter!”
“The wounds aren’t deep—they’ll heal within a month or two. Besides, it was Sister who admitted her own fault and asked to be struck—Father was there and saw it himself. Did you not hear it?” Ziqing countered.
“You call a month or two of healing a small matter? I see now how vicious and cruel you truly are, using the excuse to deliberately ruin your sister’s face! Friction and misunderstandings between sisters are only natural, but I never imagined you to be so venomous, so utterly lacking in sisterly feeling. What use do I have keeping you around?” the Prime Minister snorted coldly.
Ziqing smiled. Fighting through the spreading numbness, she abruptly rolled up both sleeves and raised her arms high, revealing scars—old whip marks layered over new ones—covering both arms, horrifying to behold.
Her sharp eyes swept over Han Xi’er, who had gone visibly pale with alarm, then bore straight into the Prime Minister as she coldly countered, “Father, every one of these wounds came from Sister’s own hand—some of them more than a month or two old already. Qing’er considered them nothing more than small matters too, and so never reported them. What does Father think of that?”
If it had been her face disfigured today instead, would any of them still be speaking to her of sisterly bonds?
How many times had the real Han Ziqing been beaten and cursed at, used as an outlet for Han Xi’er’s temper? Had anyone ever once spoken of sisterly feeling to that timid, cowardly, utterly friendless Han Ziqing back then?
The Prime Minister found himself at a complete loss for words. Under the weight of Ziqing’s searching, sharp gaze, his eyes involuntarily flickered away—after all, no matter how partial his affections, this too was his own flesh and blood.
Han Xi’er, however, remained righteously indignant. “Father, she broke the rules, so I disciplined her! Second Mother passed away so early—if her daughter hadn’t been there to guide her from time to time, who knows what she might have become. At the Splendor of the Nation, for all we know, she may well have thrown herself at that man of her own accord!”
Ziqing didn’t so much as spare a glance at Han Xi’er’s twisted, ugly expression, staring straight at the Prime Minister instead, pressing her questions relentlessly. “Father, when Sister was ‘disciplining’ me, did she ever once consider sisterly bonds? Did she ever once show pity for a motherless little sister, or did she simply take advantage of the fact that I had no mother to protect me? Did she ever once consider that I still had a father—or has Father long since stopped acknowledging me as his daughter at all?”
These words drove the Prime Minister back step by step. Seeing this, Han Xi’er, no longer able to hold back, snapped coldly, “You shameless wretch, disrespecting your elders and twisting words to suit yourself—this young miss will teach you a proper lesson today!”
With that, she lunged forward in a flash and shoved Ziqing hard. Ziqing’s limbs, already numb and weak from the poison, gave out beneath her, and she stumbled backward, collapsing to the ground.
A flash of malice crossed Han Xi’er’s eyes as she abruptly seized a fistful of Ziqing’s hair, hissing low, “So you can hold out against Ten-Fragrance Bone-Softening Powder for quite a while, can you? Let me tell you something—I am the future Consort to Prince Yao. Before much longer, even Father will have to answer to me!”