Seeing Yan Qing speak, Qian Lan quickly said: “Yan Qing, it’s all a misunderstanding. Minghui has always been a little unruly — she doesn’t always express herself clearly. Don’t worry, I’ll have a serious talk with her when we get back.”

Then she shot Yin Minghui a sharp look. “Minghui, that’s enough — it’s all a misunderstanding.”

The message was unmistakable — but Yin Minghui couldn’t hear it at all. She had lost all reason by now, and she wanted nothing more than clarity on Shi Ting’s feelings.

And so, undaunted by Yan Qing’s question, she held her head up and said: “Seventh Young Mistress, since you’ve said it yourself, let’s settle this right here and now — let everyone see whether those paper cranes were sent to me by Seventh Young Master.”

Ignoring Qian Lan’s attempts to stop her, she turned and ordered Xue Tao: “Go fetch those paper cranes immediately.”

“Yes, Miss.” Xue Tao had her own frustration pent up inside. Those things had plainly been delivered by Jin Shan, yet he was now flatly denying it — and she had no other witness to call on, leaving her forced to swallow the injustice in silence.

But she wasn’t afraid. Those paper cranes were proof enough.

Qian Lan started to say something more, but the Old Madam, who had been silent throughout, spoke up at last: “Very well then — let the items be brought. Whatever belongs to whom, we’ll see at a glance.”

The Old Madam had spoken, and the Marshal could hardly contradict her. He gave Qian Lan’s hand a quiet squeeze in reassurance.

Qian Lan managed a strained pull of her mouth, and cast a glance at Shi Guang, silently conveying that she was powerless.

In truth, Qian Lan herself didn’t fully understand what had happened. The whole scheme had been her design from the start — from arranging for Yin Minghui to fall into the water to having Shi Ting happen to pass by and save her, Qian Lan had nudged every piece into place.

Her intent had been to engineer a connection between Yin Minghui and Shi Ting. Once there was an entanglement, she could advocate for them to the Marshal — who now did her every bidding — and Yin Minghui would be able to marry Shi Ting.

With Yin Minghui’s temperament, she would inevitably turn Shao Lan Yuan into chaos. It would only be a matter of time before Shi Ting and Yan Qing’s marriage fell apart.

The plan had been proceeding just as she had foreseen — Shi Ting and Yin Minghui had indeed become entangled — and she had been on the verge of closing the net when Shi Guang had suddenly signaled her to stop. She hadn’t understood why, but she had gathered that something had gone wrong.

Only now, events had clearly slipped beyond her control. She could only watch helplessly as Xue Tao sprinted off out the door.

Xue Tao was gone only a short time before returning, but to everyone seated in the room — each lost in their own thoughts — it felt much longer.

Only when Xue Tao came back carrying a small box did every gaze snap toward it in unison.

“Everything is here.” Xue Tao opened the box in front of the assembled company. Inside were several square sheets of colored paper bearing the clear creases of having been folded into shapes. Some of the writing on them had been slightly blurred, as if touched by water.

“Marshal, please examine these.” Yin Minghui brought the box before him. “Every word and line in here was written to me by Seventh Young Master. You should recognize his handwriting.”

The Marshal drew out one sheet of colored paper. On it was written: I will never let down the longing that awaits me.

The words were so explicit that no one could mistake them for anything other than a love letter. And the handwriting — the Marshal’s expression darkened immediately.

Seeing the Marshal’s face shift so abruptly, Yin Minghui knew he had recognized whose hand it was. She couldn’t suppress a gleam of triumph as she looked at Shi Ting: “Seventh Young Master, the evidence is right here — do you still refuse to admit it? I thought you were a man who could face his own actions. I didn’t expect that at a moment like this, you would simply hide behind denial. I have truly misjudged you.”

Shi Ting’s expression remained composed and unmoved. “Miss Yin might want to ask the Marshal — is that writing mine?”

The Marshal set the paper down on the table in front of him, and turned his gaze to Shi Guang. “Weizhi. What exactly is the meaning of all this.”

In truth, from the moment that box appeared, Shi Guang had known things were going badly. Seeing the Marshal’s expression now, he became even more certain of what he suspected.

When the Marshal’s eyes fell on Shi Guang, Yin Minghui blinked and helpfully pointed out: “Marshal, Seventh Young Master is over there — you must mean the Second Young Master.”

“The handwriting belongs to him — of course I’m talking about him,” the Marshal said, his expression unreadable, neither angry nor pleased. He was simply seeking the truth.

Shi Guang quickly rose and came over. He picked up one of the colored sheets, and after reading the writing on it, he found himself with nothing to say — because the handwriting was indeed his, and the words were indeed ones he had written. But he had not written them for Yin Minghui.

Shi Guang understood now precisely what had happened. He had been outmaneuvered by Shi Ting and Yan Qing.

That day on the bridge, he had encountered Yan Qing by chance. She had folded a paper crane before him and told him it was called a paper crane — that whatever you wished to say, whatever grievances you carried, you could write them inside, let the water carry your troubles away, and your words would drift to the heart of whoever was meant to receive them.

Afterward, as Yan Qing set the crane on the water and left without a backward glance, he had followed the stream and retrieved it. He had seen what was written inside and assumed she was pining for someone.

The next day, he found another identical crane at the same spot. And so he had bought colored paper, written his reply to her words, folded it into a crane as she had done, and placed it in the stream — hoping she would find his message and know his feelings.

What he had not anticipated was that the cranes he had written were indeed picked up — and delivered straight to Yin Minghui.

Because the one delivering them was Jin Shan, Yin Minghui had assumed they were from Shi Ting. And the cranes Yin Minghui had written in return, released into the stream the following day, had been retrieved by Shi Guang — who had no familiarity with Yan Qing’s handwriting and had noticed nothing amiss.

Faced with those sheets of paper, Shi Guang had nothing to say. He could hardly tell everyone that he had written these things for his own sister-in-law. If he did, he would become the greatest laughingstock in all of Shun Cheng.

No one had forced him to fold paper cranes or write such words of longing — yet Yan Qing had foreseen every last bit of it.

She had always known the complicated feelings he harbored for her. And precisely because she truly despised him — despised him down to the very marrow of her bones — she had not hesitated to use that knowledge against him.

Shi Guang met Yan Qing’s gaze and read the mockery in the depths of her eyes.

A jolt ran through him, and he finally understood: she had long since seen through both him and Qian Lan.

He and Qian Lan had joined forces to undermine the marriage between Shi Ting and Yan Qing — to drive that wedge between husband and wife. But in the end, they had been turned against themselves.

Even though it was his own feelings for her that had been turned against him, he had no grounds to cry foul.

The struggle between him and Shi Ting had always been a matter of life and death — winner takes all, by whatever means necessary. In a fight like that, only victory and defeat mattered.

Shi Guang’s silence began to frighten Yin Minghui. She couldn’t make sense of how the paper cranes could have anything to do with Shi Guang — the one who had delivered them had been Jin Shan, and no matter what Jin Shan denied, she knew the truth of it better than anyone.

“Yes, it is my handwriting.” Shi Guang said in a low, steady voice. “But these were written for the woman I care about. I cannot account for how they ended up in Miss Yin’s hands.”

Qian Lan understood at last — their plan had not only failed, it had been turned completely against them.

She looked instinctively toward Shi Ting and Yan Qing. That couple had remained calm and still throughout, untouched and composed.

“If you didn’t send them, did Miss Yin steal them herself?” The Marshal frowned. “A true man has the courage of his convictions. If you have feelings for Miss Yin, I’ll make the decision and have you take her as your wife. Miss Yin is Lan’er’s niece — she is greatly cherished by the Qian Family. You would be gaining an excellent match.”

Shi Guang raised his eyes — deep and dark as the sea — and Qian Lan immediately read the meaning in them.

“Marshal, I suspect there may yet be some misunderstanding here.”

“What misunderstanding? The writing is his — he admitted it himself.” The Marshal pressed a hand wearily to his brow.

This Miss Yin really was muddled — how could she have confused Shi Guang for Shi Ting? Someone like her entering the Shi household might well turn into a second Yan Qin.

Qian Lan, seeing the situation threatening to spiral out of control, pressed a hand to her temple with a show of discomfort.

“Lan’er, what’s wrong?” The Marshal immediately reached to support her. “Are you not feeling well?”

“A sudden headache — I probably didn’t sleep well last night. It’s nothing.”

“How can it be nothing? You never take your own health seriously.” The Marshal called for Liu Yin: “Go fetch a physician at once.”

Shi Ting and Yan Qing exchanged a glance. They both recognized it for what it was — Qian Lan’s stalling tactic. With the Marshal thrown into alarm over her health, he would no longer pursue the matter of Shi Guang and Yin Minghui.

“Auntie — are we just going to let this go?” Yin Minghui pressed, clearly unwilling to drop it. She couldn’t fathom how the one who had been secretly exchanging letters with her could have turned out to be Shi Guang instead of Shi Ting. Shi Guang was also a young master of the Shi household, and he wasn’t married — but in her eyes, there was room only for Shi Ting.

“Your auntie isn’t feeling well right now. This can wait,” the Marshal said, his displeasure at Yin Minghui’s persistence evident. “Besides, this is a matter for the younger generation. Sort out whatever misunderstanding you have among yourselves.”

With that, he gave the Old Madam a nod and escorted Qian Lan out of the room.

The Old Madam watched them go with a faint frown.

The Marshal’s devotion to Qian Lan was plain for the entire household to see. She had merely a headache, and the Marshal responded as if facing a great crisis.

The Old Madam, for all her fondness for Qian Lan, could not help but feel a flicker of unease at the sight of a son so utterly without limits in his doting.

They said that a bewitching consort could ruin a kingdom — Qian Lan was no scheming seductress, but with the Marshal so thoroughly infatuated, the Old Madam still felt a small seed of misgiving take root.

The Old Madam’s feelings on the matter — Qian Lan understood perfectly. But under the circumstances, this was the only way to draw the Marshal’s attention away and allow Shi Guang to extricate himself.

As for the Old Madam, she could find ways to smooth things over later.

Now that the Marshal had gone, the Old Madam had no desire to linger either. She looked at Yin Minghui and Shi Guang, let out a quiet sigh, and said: “Settle your own affairs between yourselves. Whether it’s a misunderstanding or something else entirely — sort it out properly, and then come to me. If it truly is mutual feeling, I’ll stand in for the Marshal and make the decision.”

Shi Guang quickly said: “Grandmother, there has been a misunderstanding.”

“Then resolve it yourselves — and don’t turn everything into chaos.” The incident had left the Old Madam’s impression of Yin Minghui considerably diminished. She could only hope this girl wouldn’t become a second Yan Qin.