Han Zhi, who was causing Song Chuyi such worry and headache, was himself suffering from a severe headache at this moment. He looked at Little Consort Fan’s face in the dim, yellow candlelight, feeling that he could only see it vaguely and unclearly. It was laughable to say, but he seemed unfamiliar even with his own mother’s appearance. This actually wasn’t anything particularly strange when you thought about it—after all, he had been sent out of the capital at such a young age to receive medical treatment for an illness, and this illness was contracted thanks to Little Consort Fan’s blessing.
He glanced at Little Consort Fan through that circle of blurry halo of light, head lowered and voice somewhat hoarse: “You want me to go beg Aunt?”
He laughed mockingly in his heart. Aunt had always been nothing but good to their family, especially to Little Consort Fan and Han Yueheng—responding to every request. What matter could he possibly bring to her that she would refuse? Little Consort Fan just had to maintain this aggrieved and cautious appearance year after year, as if only she herself was the merciful Buddha illuminating the earth, while everyone else were hellish demons oppressing her.
The room fell silent for a moment. Han Zhi kept his head lowered waiting for Little Consort Fan’s response. He was already finding his own mother difficult to endure—even when asking someone for help, she had to maintain this attitude of “you can help or not, but if you don’t help then you’ve wronged me.”
Just in that brief moment, the curtain was suddenly lifted with a rustle, a large gust of cold wind rushing in head-on, making the candlelight flicker and sway. Han Yueheng rushed in from outside, tear stains still visible on her face. She threw herself in front of Han Zhi, pressed her lips together and called out “Older Brother” once, already choking up the moment she opened her mouth: “Older Brother, I beg you to save me. I don’t want to go to Dongying…”
Little Consort Fan turned her eyes away, her fists clenched tightly—Grand Consort Fan’s subtle influence over these years had truly been effective. Han Zhi already completely trusted and felt close to her, while she, the biological mother, couldn’t even get a word in edgewise.
Han Zhi wasn’t close to anyone in the Han family. His mother needless to say—they’d been like enemies since childhood. His younger sister also had little affection due to their long-term estrangement. But ultimately he wasn’t truly heartless. When he first heard that Han Yueheng was on the dowry list, he had already asked someone to speak to Grand Consort Fan about it.
Grand Consort Fan never refused matters he asked of her. Thinking of this, he couldn’t help but push away Han Yueheng’s hand with some impatience.
Behind Han Yueheng, Nanny Qi—with a stern face full of solemnity—reached out to pull Han Yueheng up: “Miss is grown now. This sort of pulling and tugging is improper.”
Han Yueheng had always feared this nanny. Hearing this, her crying halted momentarily. Seeing Han Zhi’s cold attitude again, she suddenly felt life held no meaning. She turned and threw herself into Little Consort Fan’s embrace, sobbing pitifully with extreme grievance.
The corners of Nanny Qi’s mouth lifted oddly for a moment, then instantly returned to normal—the appearance of a rigid, harsh old nanny who came from the palace.
Han Zhi rubbed his temples somewhat impatiently, preparing to leave. Every time he stayed at home he felt uncomfortable all over. In the past when Little Consort Fan spoke sarcastically and harshly to him, he felt disappointed and embarrassed. Now that Little Consort Fan had lowered her lofty stance to beg him, he instead felt even more chaotic inside.
But before he could leave, he saw Qiu Ju and Qiu Lian enter with lowered brows and obedient eyes to report that the gatehouse said Qian Ying had arrived.
Qian Ying was Zhou Weiqi’s chief administrator, always Zhou Weiqi’s personal confidant. Han Zhi raised an eyebrow and had someone escort Qian Ying to the flower hall. He himself glanced through the lamplight at Han Yueheng crying energetically in the room, ultimately instructing Qiu Ju: “Tell the Eldest Miss she need not cry anymore. I’ve already spoken to Aunt about it.”
Qiu Ju hadn’t expected to receive these words from Han Zhi. In an instant her eyes lit up, and she hurriedly nodded. Entering the room and seeing Nanny Qi, her movements first paused, then she acted as if nothing was amiss and asked Nanny Qi to bring Han Yueheng’s cosmetics box again—crying until she looked like a flowery cat, she would naturally need to redo her makeup.
Once Nanny Qi left suspiciously, Qiu Ju gently helped Han Yueheng up, unable to help joyfully telling Grand Consort Fan and Han Yueheng: “The Heir said he’s already gone to beg Liangdi. Liangdi has always responded to every request from the Heir. Since the Heir has spoken, the matter will surely succeed.”
Han Yueheng and Little Consort Fan exchanged glances, but both smiled bitterly and lowered their heads.
If it could truly succeed, the Ministry of Rites wouldn’t have delivered the princess’s gold册 today. Grand Consort Fan clearly had already made up her mind that Han Yueheng must go to Dongying.
Han Yueheng couldn’t understand why the aunt who had always been so loving and caring would treat her this way, but this didn’t prevent her from hating Grand Consort Fan from this moment on. It was as if she had grown up in an instant. Embracing Little Consort Fan’s knees, she gently rested her head on top: “Forget it, Mother…”
She choked up for a moment, then shook her head and laughed bitterly: “To think that I used to mistakenly believe she was a good person. Now thinking back, if she truly were a good person, she wouldn’t have pushed me to become the Ninth Princess’s companion reader with one hand. The rules and skills that Nanny Qi taught me in the past all conformed to the Ninth Princess’s preferences…”
The more one thought about it, the more terrifying it became. The always kind and generous Grand Consort Fan had actually harbored such intentions from beginning to end.
Little Consort Fan felt her heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys were all tangled together. She gripped Han Yueheng’s hand with all her strength. On her face that had been expressionless for many years, she finally made a movement of great magnitude for the first time—the corners of her mouth turned up as she laughed softly.
This cold laugh was extremely eerie, even startling Qiu Ju.
Then she heard Little Consort Fan instruct in a voice fine as a mosquito’s buzz near Han Yueheng’s ear: “Go there with peace of mind, and live well even there. When the day comes that she pays the price for this, you must live to see her end.”
The window wasn’t closed, and the wind from outside whooshed in. The lamp in the room suddenly went out. Han Yueheng lay on Little Consort Fan’s knees for a long while before responding with a yes.
After Nanny Qi came to tidy up Han Yueheng properly and lead her back to her room, Little Consort Fan turned her stiff neck to look at Qiu Ju: “I have a letter. Help me deliver it to the courier station.”
She didn’t understand why she had to sacrifice to this extent for the sake of her clan, why—both being daughters of the Fan family—Grand Consort Fan spent her whole life in the spring breeze stepping on her, and still had to drag in her children.
She had been muddled for so many years. Now thinking about it, it was time to wake up. Her life was already without hope, her daughter would have no chance to see her again from now on. She had become neither human nor ghost for the sake of the Fan clan, but in the end not one parent, relative, or clan member of the Fan family stood out to help her. These people owed her an explanation.
Even a cornered rabbit will bite, and even a mud figurine has some earthy nature. Grand Consort Fan had pushed her to a dead end with no retreat—this was truly going too far. What sisterly affection was there left to speak of? Little Consort Fan’s eyes flashed with raging flames. If she was to fall into the deepest hell, she would burn that hellfire onto Grand Consort Fan’s head as well.