A dead silence fell over the mourning hall. Even the sutra chanting had happened to stop at that very moment.

The gathered onlookers finally remembered — the eldest daughter-in-law of the Hua Family had indeed been gravely ill. Those who had come to visit her sickbed knew full well that she had been confined to bed day after day, without the strength even to sit upright. Where would she have found the strength to hoist white silk up to that high main lintel?

Could it be that the Song Family had truly been so unable to tolerate Hua Jing? Yet without the Hua Family — with only what Old Master Song was capable of on his own — could he really have climbed to Senior Third Grade?

If the Song Family’s hands were truly behind this…

Many people’s expressions shifted subtly as they looked at the Song Family.

“What actually happened is that Hua Jing hung a length of white silk at the Song Family’s main gate and made the Song Family lose a great deal of face.” As those words fell, an old man emerged from the back of the crowd — it was the Song Family patriarch, Song Haoqing. His features were sharp and proper, and even in his age he was a handsome figure. Both Song Zhengzu and Song Chenghao took after neither him.

One hand clasped behind his back, Song Haoqing walked until he stood before Hua Zhi. “Why has the Hua Family’s young miss come in such a belligerent manner? Those who know better understand she has come to pay her respects — those who don’t might think she’s come to settle a grudge.”

Was he trying to overawe her with his age and standing? Hua Zhi’s chin rose slightly, and in an instant even the arch of her brows took on a sharp edge. “A bedridden woman somehow walked from a locked rear courtyard to the front of the house, bypassed the gatekeepers, opened the main gate, and hanged herself outside it — she must have drugged every last person in the entire residence before setting out, in order to slip past every servant and guard in the Song Family’s employ so successfully.”

Song Haoqing faltered. Before he could respond, Hua Zhi continued, “Or perhaps Old Master Song has a more convincing explanation?”

“That is simply what happened. How would I know what she was thinking or how she managed it?”

Hua Zhi gave a nod. “Remarkable indeed.”

Whether that remark was directed at Hua Jing or at the Song Family, no one could be quite sure.

Song Chenghao saw the crowd’s attention drifting in the direction Hua Zhi was steering it, and quickly cut in. “Cousin, we truly did not know how Mother managed to do it…”

“Sui’an is only fourteen years old, and he defended his mother. What about you, Song Chenghao?”

Hua Zhi’s composure grew sharper with every word. She made no dramatic gestures — she simply stood there, her expression cool and severe, her bearing icily unyielding. “You have not even attempted to look grief-stricken. You have been calculating, from the very beginning, what advantage Hua Jing’s death might bring you. Song Chenghao — there is a smile in your eyes. Have you not noticed it?”

Song Chenghao instinctively bowed his head. Then, catching himself, he jerked it back up.

Hua Zhi swept her gaze across the hall full of people, and a faint, inexplicable sorrow stirred somewhere deep within her. A person had died, and there was no one — not a single person — who was truly grieved or heartbroken on her behalf. Was it that Hua Jing had been too much of a failure as a person, or that human nature was simply too cold?

“Hua Zhi, have you forgotten how you treated Hua Jing yourself? And now you come here to play at false grief…”

“When did I weep?” Hua Zhi cut off Song Zhengzu. The man who had once been a proud and high-spirited scholar — now he was nothing more than a body hollowed out by drink and debauchery. She produced the spirit tablet. Those who knew the Hua Family’s customs reacted with shock. “I came here to return Hua Jing’s spirit tablet to her. From this day forward, Hua Jing and whatever children she has borne are no longer connected to the Hua Family in any way. The Hua Family and the Song Family shall each go their separate ways.”

Hua Zhi stepped forward and cast the spirit tablet into the brazier, then turned and walked out, leaving the stunned crowd in her wake.

Song Zhengzu’s roar erupted behind her. “Hua Zhi, you venomous woman — you’re condemning Hua Jing to find no peace even in death!”

The maids flushed crimson with fury, their fists clenched, all but ready to fly at the man speaking such vile words.

But Hua Zhi laughed. She turned and looked at Song Zhengzu, his composure shattered, his dignity gone. “She died unable to find peace? Below the earth, the ancestors of the Hua Family are waiting for her — my grandmother is waiting for her.”

“An ignorant, nonsensical little chit, ranting and raving here — who do you think you are? The Song Family will—”

“Enough.” Song Haoqing shot his eldest son a warning glare, then turned to Hua Zhi with the measured air of a venerable elder. “Such a weighty matter — the Hua Family’s young miss should not speak so carelessly.”

“The decision I have made is one that my grandfather would not oppose, even were he here. There is no need for Old Master Song’s concern.”

Song Haoqing had long been eager to shed the Hua Family connection. Before this, he couldn’t be the one to initiate it — people would have pointed fingers. But now — the one who had raised the matter was not him.

He let out a long sigh. “If this is the Hua Family’s wish, who am I to stand in the way?”

“Old Master Song has been accommodating.” Whether those words were sincere or sarcastic was anyone’s guess. Hua Zhi walked out without looking back. The crowd parted before her of their own accord, watching her — dressed all in white — pass through the hall like a tongue of flame, burning her way clear.

No — they had all been wrong. This was no cool and ethereal celestial being. This was a rose, brilliant and bold, with thorns to match.

As she stepped out through the Song Family gate and into the gaze of the waiting crowd, Hua Zhi boarded the carriage. She had barely settled herself when Bao Xia said, “Young miss, Young Master Shen has come.”

Hua Zhi lifted the window curtain. “Does Young Master Shen have further business?”

Shen Qi’s expression could not conceal the shadows beneath it. He had just witnessed her blazing like a flame — and now here she was, addressing him with that calm “Young Master Shen.”

“I intend to make a trip to the northern regions. If there is anything you would like sent there, please have it prepared. I plan to depart in about ten days.”

Hua Zhi’s eyes softened a fraction. “Does Young Master Shen’s family know of this plan?”

“I am the master’s student. Whatever else may have changed, that is something that will not. A student going to call upon his teacher is entirely unremarkable.”

“If Young Master Shen is determined to go, perhaps you might arrange to meet with Bai Mingxia of the Bai Family — he is also making a trip to the northern regions. If you travel together, you’ll have company on the road.” Hua Zhi leaned forward slightly. “This young woman is grateful to Young Master Shen for his kind intentions.”

Shen Qi gave a rueful smile in return, watching the carriage depart with no means to detain it further.

On the journey home, Nanny Su did not climb into the carriage to attend to her. Alone inside, Hua Zhi felt as though the end of a battle had finally come. Her shoulders dropped, the energy that had held her upright seemed to drain all at once, and her whole body carried the weight of exhaustion. She closed her eyes to rest for a moment — she couldn’t afford to look like this by the time she got home.

Suddenly the carriage curtain was thrown aside. The carriage had not yet stopped, and Gu Yanxi stepped in just like that.

Hua Zhi’s nerves tensed, then released. She did not move.

Gu Yanxi said nothing about having been there earlier, nor did he speak the tenderness he felt aloud. He simply opened a warm, oil-paper wrapped parcel and held it out to her. “A new kind of pastry from Zhilan Pavilion — it’s based on the peach blossom cake from Luqingxiang, but filled with fresh flower jam. Try it and see how you like it.”

The pastry smelled wonderful — not so much the fragrance of flowers as the scent of the pastry itself. Hua Zhi suddenly realized she was rather hungry. She accepted it and was about to take a bite, then paused. She broke it in half and extended the other portion back to him.

Gu Yanxi smiled and accepted it, biting into it in one go. The sweetness he usually had no taste for somehow carried a different note this time.

When she had finished her half, Hua Zhi offered her verdict. “The pastry itself is well made — the filling is too cloying. Not as good as the jam Fudong prepares. The children would probably like it though. Let’s have Fudong make some when we’re back.”

Gu Yanxi smiled and agreed, and seeing that her spirits had lifted a little, the tension in his heart finally eased. Hua Zhi would never know — how desperately he had wanted to step up and stand beside her just now, to keep her from facing all that hostility alone. He had not. Because he knew. Hua Zhi wouldn’t have liked it.