“What are you doing here, you little brat?!”

Just as Aunt An’s words fell, another maidservant suddenly shrieked. She had been so startled by Aunt An’s slap that she had stumbled back a step and bumped into the half-open window, faintly hearing a low cry of alarm from below. Looking back, she discovered that the Feng family’s second young master was crouching beneath the window.

Someone immediately went over and hauled Feng Hao inside. Feng Hao’s face had long since turned pale with fright, stammering and unable to speak. Feng Zhiwei frowned slightly, but Aunt An acted as if she had discovered a treasure, shrieking, “What is Young Master Hao doing here? Did he also come to steal things?”

Feng Hao was so startled by that word “steal” that his whole body trembled. He glanced at Feng Zhiwei, then timidly lowered his head.

This expression, observed by Aunt An, made the old woman’s eyes flash with a hint of delight. She suddenly softened her tone and smiled, saying, “The young master is young and doesn’t understand things—being instigated by others to make mistakes is nothing serious. Just explain things properly to this old woman, and don’t wait until Madam arrives, or things won’t end well.”

Feng Hao hesitated, his fingers unconsciously twisting together inside his sleeves. A faint exotic fragrance subtly emanated, and at his fingertips could still be seen tiny traces of golden thread-like substances. Everyone saw this, yet they all looked away, only staring fixedly at Feng Hao together.

“Young Master Hao, when facing important matters, right and wrong must be clearly distinguished,” Aunt An said with a half-smile, jerking her chin toward the front courtyard. “The master governs the household with military law and cannot tolerate sneaky behavior, especially when what was stolen was imperial tribute food. Even if His Majesty doesn’t blame you tomorrow, when the master finds out, he will surely expel you from the household. Young Master Hao, you see…”

Her voice drew out long, causing Feng Hao to tremble and timidly retreat a step.

Feng Zhiwei took a breath, slowly lowering the hand covering her face, staring at Feng Hao.

This was the younger brother who had grown up alongside her…

Feng Hao trembled under her gaze, his knees involuntarily weakening, yet he immediately turned his head away, retreating another step from her side. Then he mumbled quickly, “…Sister said there were good things to eat here and told me to wait here to help her…”

Aunt An let out a long breath, a sinister smile floating at the corners of her mouth.

The servants all around simultaneously lifted the corners of their lips.

Feng Zhiwei turned her head away, no longer looking at Feng Hao.

“Hao’er!” An angry shout suddenly came. Everyone turned to see that at the entrance, at some unknown moment, stood the household’s mistress, Madam Qiu, while Madam Feng, who had just spoken, stood at her side, glaring furiously at Feng Hao.

As soon as Feng Hao saw Madam Feng, he immediately rushed over, crying out, “Mother! They twisted my arm so painfully!”

Madam Feng’s face turned iron-blue. Watching Feng Hao rush toward her, her sleeves moved as if blown by wind, and her feet shifted slightly. However, she immediately steadied herself, somewhat stiffly raising her arms to catch the rushing Feng Hao and embrace him.

Feng Zhiwei observed coldly, her eyes flashing—Mother’s posture just now was rather strange…

Yet as if it were her imagination, in an instant Madam Feng had already gathered her son into her embrace, consoling him in low tones.

Madam Qiu calmly observed all this, listening to Aunt An hurriedly catch up and give an embellished report. She suddenly turned to ask Feng Hao, “Hao’er, was it Zhiwei who told you to wait beneath the window?”

The entire room fell silent. Feng Hao, busy acting spoiled, stiffly raised his head, his lips moving wordlessly as he glanced at Madam Feng.

Madam Feng’s fingers trembled, and she looked away. Feng Zhiwei saw her quietly wipe away a bit of golden food from her sleeve cuff—something that had stuck to her when Feng Hao rushed over just now.

Feng Hao’s expression was somewhat confused, as if he didn’t understand his mother’s meaning. However, Madam Feng’s failure to intervene had already emboldened him, and unwilling to face the fate of being expelled from the household, he steeled his heart, stiffened his neck, and was about to speak.

But Madam Feng suddenly stopped him, turning around to bow slightly to Madam Qiu.

Madam Qiu returned the courtesy slightly, a knowing smile floating at the corners of her mouth.

Feng Zhiwei, who had been watching her mother, suddenly let out a soft breath, a trace of gratified joy surfacing in her eyes.

There were still people in this world who would speak up for her…

Then she heard Madam Feng say in a low voice, “Madam… Zhiwei is young and doesn’t understand things, being greedy… I hope you will be more tolerant…”

Feng Zhiwei suddenly retreated a step.

As if muffled thunder had struck at the bottom of her heart, splitting open a deep, black, wide crevice, scorched to charcoal, with bloody traces evident.

Yet her face assumed a faint smile, clear and shallow—not really like a smile, but rather like something drawn with an ink brush, the arc perfect yet rigid. Her brows were lightly raised, her gaze rippling and flowing. Between movement and stillness emerged an eerie, alluring aura, like a painted figurine causing a chill to rise in people’s hearts.

Madam Qiu was actually stunned. She understood the Feng family siblings, especially the not-wealthy yet dissolute Feng Hao. Today’s incident was clearly Feng Hao being greedy, yet fearing trouble, he framed his own sister. She had originally thought that her famously strong-willed sister-in-law would certainly defend Zhiwei. Seeing her appear so filled with righteous indignation, the next words were certain to be scolding her son to save her daughter. Who would have thought… it would actually be this outcome.

After all, the son is more important… Madam Qiu thought indifferently, then considered the Feng family’s daughter, who seemed gentle and compliant, living quietly in a corner of the Qiu household, not competing or seeking anything, spending her days in detachment, yet no one had ever been able to gain any advantage from mother or daughter.

She suddenly recalled the year when her sister-in-law had knelt at the household gate with her children. She had ordered everyone in the household not to report this to the master, and the master also pretended not to know. Madam Feng had fallen ill from the cold outside the gate and lost consciousness. At that time, Feng Zhiwei was only four years old, yet showed no panic. She immediately pulled her younger brother to kneel on the main street outside the alley. The siblings said nothing, only shed silent tears. Passersby who saw them all felt the small children were pitiful and sighed in sympathy. After just one day of kneeling, the Qiu household couldn’t bear the criticism from society and had no choice but to bring the mother and her two children into the household.

At such a young age, knowing to provoke public discussion to pressure the Qiu household, and choosing the moment when her mother fell ill to make her move, so that society wouldn’t blame Madam Feng for using her children to gain access—such grasp of propriety and wisdom in handling crises, when understood afterward, made one’s heart turn cold.

She also recalled wanting to match Zhiwei with Manager Liu’s son. The child hadn’t refused even once to her face, yet “coincidentally encountered” the master on the road, saying, “Third Miss has taken a liking to Zhiwei’s jade hairpin—I’m sending it to her.”

This prompted the master to inquire about the hairpin’s origins.

She then answered, “The Liu family sent it—rare that my sister likes it.”

Afterward, the master flew into a rage, scolding her for poor household management, allowing ambiguously-sourced items from outside servants to appear before a young lady of good family. If Zhiwei had truly given it to the innocent Third Miss, what would people say once word got out?

For all these years, this child’s position in the household had been awkward, yet she could protect herself from manipulation without making waves. Such determination and patience always made one uneasy when thinking about it.

Now, this truly was an opportunity.

“When you think about it, it’s not really a big deal.” Madam Qiu smiled, almost benevolently. “How could family members make things difficult for you? Tomorrow when His Majesty arrives, just replace it. His Majesty and the Princess have always been close to the Qiu family—they won’t quibble over such things.”

Madam Feng’s face lit up with joy. She turned to look at Feng Zhiwei, but Feng Zhiwei was impassively gazing at a flower swaying in the wind beneath the window, her hands tucked into her sleeves.

“However…” Madam Qiu’s tone predictably shifted. “It’s hard to guarantee that some servant won’t be loose-lipped. If word gets out, it won’t end well. The master has a fierce temperament and strict household management. When his thunder and fury descend, I fear my niece will suffer…” She smiled faintly, looking toward Feng Zhiwei. “Perhaps my niece should temporarily leave the household to avoid trouble? Don’t worry—your aunt will take responsibility for everything.”

This was still expulsion from the household. Everyone heard the meaning and broke into thin smiles.

Although Feng Zhiwei was not respected, she had been raised in seclusion since childhood. What would such a delicate young lady of good family face once expelled from the household? Even if she were brought back later, once this reputation of having wandered outside spread, she would never be able to make a good match again.

Aunt An’s face relaxed into a smile. The thorn in her side removed—how delightful.

Madam Feng’s expression grew urgent, and she was about to speak when Madam Qiu suddenly turned sideways, personally adjusting her hair ornaments. Then she removed a red jeweled flower from her own hair and inserted it into Madam Feng’s hair, smiling, “Hao’er hasn’t yet grown up, and Wei’er doesn’t quite understand things—you worry too much, sister. One can see you’ve aged.”

That one phrase, “Hao’er hasn’t yet grown up,” made Madam Feng actually shiver. She turned her face partially aside, raising her hand to touch the jeweled flower, her fingers trembling slightly.

Then she lowered her eyes, saying in a low voice, “Thank you for sister-in-law’s care…”

The evening霞light streamed through the hall into the room, painting everyone’s faces in bright colors. Yet that woman of rumored strength and brightness sank dimly into a corner’s shadow, the rosy glow touching her cheek only bringing out a patch of frost-white like cold moonlight.

Feng Zhiwei stood in the winter evening light, feeling only her thin clothing and the cold, unable to resist drawing her sleeves tighter. Her gaze silently swept past, lingering on Feng Hao’s rosy-lipped, white-toothed face, lingering on the jeweled flower at her mother’s temple. That red jeweled flower gleamed brilliantly, pressing against hair no longer raven-black, faintly revealing a strand of white hair—not appearing magnificent but rather weathered.

This was her younger brother. This was her mother.

Feng Zhiwei lowered her eyes, and in that instant actually broke into a slight smile—not desolate, not sorrowful, not sarcastic, not resentful. A very peaceful smile.

Everyone braced themselves for her outburst, for begging or weeping, yet unexpectedly she showed this expression. For a moment they all felt somewhat dazed. But Feng Zhiwei suddenly turned and, without a word, walked out.

This time even Madam Qiu was stunned.

Feng Zhiwei didn’t look back, walking all the way until she stopped in front of Aunt An.

Her temple hair had been disheveled earlier by Aunt An’s slap, and between the half-covering strands, finger marks were clearly visible. Aunt An looked at her with some trepidation, only now remembering that she had just violated protocol by having a servant strike a master. Now that the Feng family’s young lady was about to be expelled, if she vented her anger and returned that slap before leaving, the Madam, feeling guilty, probably wouldn’t intervene.

She shrank back a step. Feng Zhiwei stood before her, raising her hand.

Everyone waited for that crisp slap to ring out.

But Feng Zhiwei smiled faintly.

When she smiled, her divine radiance flickered on and off. Though clearly just a sallow face of unremarkable appearance, it made people feel her countenance was supremely brilliant, almost dazzling.

In a moment of breathless silence, Feng Zhiwei raised her hand… and touched the finger marks on her own face.

Her expression was almost nostalgic, as if wanting to experience again through her fingertips’ touch the shocking pain of that slap falling.

Then she lowered her hand, smiling gently, leaning close to the stunned Aunt An’s ear, and said softly:

“The interest on this slap… I’ll come to collect it.”

She smiled, at an angle the crowd couldn’t see, lightly patting Aunt An’s face, then stepped through the doorway in one stride.

Ahead, the evening sun shot toward her warmly. Behind, everyone’s surprised gazes struck coldly at her back. She was in between, her returning figure thin.

Yet she never looked back.

Not looking at her younger brother’s utterly shameless expression, not looking at the bitterness in her mother’s eyes, not thinking about family betrayal, not thinking about what she would face once she stepped outside this gate.

She only stepped into that huge evening sun with near-serenity, breathing deeply in the onrushing golden light.

Saying to herself:

“I will return.”