Han Yan remained expressionless, though her heart was moved. Unlike Concubine Mei’s distrust of men, Han Yan believed that a man who dared to make such vows must be loyal and righteous, breaking free from worldly conventions and abandoning the common practice of keeping multiple wives and concubines. The Eastern Marquis Wang must have truly loved the lady called Xiao Qiao.

Seeing that Han Yan didn’t show the expected hurt expression, Concubine Mei felt slightly disappointed before continuing her story.

The love between Eastern Marquis Wang and that martial arts woman was known throughout the capital. Though Eastern Marquis Wang was boundlessly arrogant, he was also a handsome and gallant young man, causing many women to envy Xiao Qiao. Lady Wang felt the same way, but she only wished happiness for the one she loved, silently blessing their union in her heart.

A year after Eastern Marquis Wang and Xiao Qiao married, they had a daughter. While this child was still in swaddling clothes, the entire Eastern Marquis Wang family was massacred. Several hundred people in the Eastern Marquis’s mansion were killed without exception, reportedly due to revenge. The Eastern Marquis’s infant daughter couldn’t escape the tragedy either, meeting an untimely death.

Lady Wang couldn’t bear this blow and nearly followed Eastern Marquis Wang in death. Fortunately, her family’s careful consolation helped her recover gradually. Not long after, Lady Wang married Zhuang Shiyang.

At that time, Zhuang Shiyang didn’t hold a high position, and compared to the noble young men who had pursued Lady Wang, he hardly measured up. Such a marriage was indeed somewhat unexpected. Zhuang Shiyang had shown some attentiveness to Lady Wang—a young, gentle beauty who could help his official career. Given Zhuang Shiyang’s nature, he naturally tried to please her in every way. Soon after, Lady Wang gave birth to a daughter, Han Yan.

After Han Yan’s birth, Zhuang Shiyang’s attitude toward Lady Wang changed completely from his previous attentiveness to coldness. It was inexplicable that he would treat his wife so distantly right after she bore him a child. Gradually, rumors spread through the mansion, saying Han Yan was a bastard born from Lady Wang’s affair with someone else, that Han Yan wasn’t Zhuang Shiyang’s daughter—otherwise, how could he be so cold toward Han Yan, showing none of a father’s proper behavior?

Concubine Mei kept pausing as she spoke, watching Han Yan’s expression. Seeing Han Yan remain consistently calm, even when hearing about “Lady Wang’s affair,” showing the composed understanding of someone who already knew everything and was merely hearing it retold, Concubine Mei couldn’t help feeling uncertain.

In truth, the servants’ gossip was nothing but rumors. A secluded married woman rarely saw any men besides her husband, and given Lady Wang’s quiet nature, she rarely socialized with other capital madams or went out, making it impossible for her to have an affair.

“The servants all guessed wrong. You are indeed Eastern Marquis Wang’s daughter, just not with Lady Wang, but with Xiao Qiao,” Concubine Mei said.

When her suspicions were finally confirmed by Concubine Mei’s words, Han Yan couldn’t describe her feelings. There wasn’t the expected excitement, just calmness tinged with bewilderment and regret—the woman who had shown her such maternal love wasn’t her birth mother and her biological parents had passed away before she ever had the chance to meet them.

In earlier days, Concubine Mei had been deeply favored by Zhuang Shiyang. During intimate moments, he didn’t hide certain things from her, and she gradually learned some details. For instance, Zhuang Shiyang had never touched Lady Wang, so how did she mysteriously become pregnant? Later, when drunk, he mentioned raising Eastern Marquis Wang’s daughter, calling Lady Wang foolish for protecting a child that wasn’t hers so fiercely, saying she was worthless and only thought of Eastern Marquis Wang. Concubine Mei boldly guessed that Han Yan was Eastern Marquis Wang and Xiao Qiao’s child, a suspicion later confirmed by Zhuang Shiyang.

Han Yan was shocked to learn that Zhuang Shiyang had never touched her mother, meaning her mother had essentially lived as a widow for most of her life. Thinking of this, Han Yan felt a wave of sadness. Lady Wang must have deeply loved Eastern Marquis Wang to sacrifice her entire life to raise his child. She had gained nothing, only given everything.

No wonder on the day of her birth, all of her mother’s maids had been sent away from the mansion for various reasons—it was to keep their mouths shut and preserve the secret.

“Strangely enough, after your birth, the Master’s official career became increasingly smooth. Though you’re not his child, perhaps you brought him good fortune. Though his current demotion because of you might be considered karmic retribution,” Concubine Mei said with a bitter, self-mocking laugh.

Han Yan wasn’t as naive as Concubine Mei. Zhuang Shiyang’s career success after her birth wasn’t due to any blessing—Han Yan knew she didn’t have such ability. It was inevitable; his career advancement was simply the reward for raising her in the Zhuang mansion.

Han Yan asked, “Why did the Master agree to raise me in the Zhuang mansion?”

It didn’t make sense—a child who wasn’t his flesh and blood, not even his wife’s flesh and blood. Han Yan had no relation to him at all. It couldn’t have been out of compassion that Zhuang Shiyang raised her in his household. He must have had a reason, and that reason was likely that someone had ordered him to raise her in the Zhuang mansion. What Han Yan wanted to know now was: who was that person?

Concubine Mei shook her head. “On this point, he never told me, only saying that as long as Fourth Young Lady stayed in the mansion, he wouldn’t have any trouble.”

Han Yan was almost certain this matter was connected to the Empress Dowager. Raising her in the Zhuang mansion meant keeping her movements under the Empress Dowager’s watchful eye—it was surveillance. If she made any moves, the Empress Dowager would know immediately; she was surrounded by spies. But why hadn’t the Empress Dowager simply killed her back then? Wouldn’t killing her have been simpler? Everything would have been easier to handle.

Unwilling to kill her yet wanting to monitor her—was the Empress Dowager wary of something? But what exactly was she afraid of?

Han Yan couldn’t figure it out. Time had passed unconsciously, and two hours had gone by. Dawn would break soon. Only when Zhuo Qi reminded her did Han Yan realize she had stayed there for so long. She stood up, rubbing her numb legs.

Seeing Han Yan stand, Concubine Mei hurriedly rose too, gripping the prison bars with both hands, anxiously asking, “I’ve told you everything I know. Can you take me away now?”

Han Yan nodded. “Of course.” She smiled slightly, gesturing to Zhuo Qi to open the prison door. Zhuo Qi smiled too, and Concubine Mei almost cheered, but before her cheer could finish, she was grabbed from behind by another dark figure.

“Worthless woman! Don’t think about escaping!” That familiar voice rang out—it was Lady Zhou.