This speech of Situ Sheng’s was reasonable and compelling, and once again struck at the very heart of Emperor Jinren’s concerns.
That volunteer army growing stronger day by day in the north was indeed a hidden source of worry on the Emperor’s mind.
As for Great Jin’s shortage of soldiers and capable generals, he had long been aware of it — yet no one had ever been able to lay it out before him like a ledger, tallied and calculated clearly.
Looking at year after year of comparison like this, the results were striking and moving enough to stir one’s soul.
Situ Sheng, seeing that the Emperor had not spoken, continued: “The Li Family army is brave and skilled in battle, with an outstanding record in suppressing bandit uprisings and rebellions across the realm in recent years. If, over this matter, we were to arbitrarily frame and convict the Li Family army — pushing them out to bear punishment they do not deserve — would that not chill the hearts of the soldiers of the three armies? The perpetrator is not General Li or his subordinates. If Your Majesty were to inflict severe punishment, I fear it would play right into the hands of the person who truly struck from the shadows. Moreover, the occasion of General Li Chengyi publicly punishing the wicked Jing Kingdom envoy in the marketplace is a magnificent opportunity to uplift the morale of the nation’s people!”
As for the concern over the Jing Kingdom going to war, Situ Sheng recalled what Chu Linlang had said to him that day.
She had said that negotiations between the two nations were more like striking a business deal — the more useless bickering and dragging out there was, the more it actually indicated that the other party still had the intention to negotiate. So one should not fear the other side making a fuss and being unreasonable; what one should fear is the other side not being willing to negotiate at all.
With that in mind, he continued composedly: “A nation’s fundamental dignity must be upheld. The Jing Kingdom’s envoys showed no regard for proper conduct, repeatedly violating the laws of Great Jin, and even committed murder within the relay station, taking the life of an innocent singing girl. Their act of causing disorder in the streets, injuring a common woman and government runners, means that their unexpected deaths were a consequence of their own actions. Your Majesty may make clear to the Jing Kingdom that this case is still under investigation and the perpetrators have not yet been apprehended. However, the other Jing Kingdom envoys, who have shown no respect for the laws of Great Jin, must be expelled and sent back. If the Jing Kingdom wishes to continue peace negotiations and open trade markets, it would be best for them to send someone who understands proper conduct.”
The Emperor frowned upon hearing this: “Would that not give the Jing Kingdom grounds for going to war?”
Situ Sheng answered steadily: “I have a friend who has penetrated deep into the northern territories and learned of conditions there — intelligence that the former border scouts failed to uncover. I have been informed that this year, a vast stretch of grassland in the northwestern part of the Jing Kingdom was struck by a blight that withered the grass. With the grass dying, the livestock had no food and perished in great numbers. However, the new Khan, in order to stabilize morale, had previously sought channels within the territory of Great Jin to purchase a large quantity of grain and fodder in bulk, and managed to resolve the immediate crisis. But whether next year’s grass shortage can be resolved remains uncertain. The Jing Kingdom has therefore been pressing urgently to open trade markets precisely in order to accumulate sufficient grain and fodder. Their recent dispatch of envoys to conduct this combination of coercive and conciliatory peace negotiation also stems from this purpose. If next year’s vast grasslands still cannot recover, the Jing Kingdom’s military forces — once they have stockpiled enough grain — will then have the capacity to launch a major campaign and breach the border defenses, pouring into the Central Plains to fight and plunder…”
What Situ Sheng did not say aloud was that this intelligence had come from covert lines that Liao Jingxuan had maintained within the northern territories for many years. The famine in the north had begun on the grasslands far from the border, then spread gradually. Even within the Jing Kingdom itself, the tribal factions slightly to the south might not be aware of how severe the dried-grass disaster had become in the northern tribes.
The Crown Prince’s faction, which was responsible for intelligence from the northern territories, had grown lax in its vigilance due to their friendly ties with the Angu faction. They had not inquired carefully into this critical matter, and had reported it only in the most cursory terms — merely noting that the Jing Kingdom’s water and grass were not abundant this year — and had devoted all their attention to internal struggles against the Fourth Prince.
Yet the intelligence Situ Sheng possessed had been gathered through Liao Jingxuan’s network of connections, cultivated over many years of deep work in the northern territories. Only Liao Jingxuan, that expert on the Jing Kingdom, could have analyzed and synthesized various pieces of intelligence with such confidence.
Peace negotiations were just like this — only by grasping the other party’s vital weakness, knowing where they were short, could one gain the upper hand.
Situ Sheng said firmly: “Your Majesty — we have not yet sounded out the bottom of the Jing Kingdom’s hand. How can we set our price? There is no need to rush. For these peace negotiations, it would be better to first take measure of the situation, and then negotiate at a measured pace.”
Emperor Jinren, hearing from Situ Sheng’s account for the first time just how severe the Jing Kingdom’s earlier disaster had been, felt his expression shift slightly.
Though he occupied the highest position, many matters had been concealed and misrepresented to him, leaving him poorly informed.
Yet to learn of the true conditions within this enemy nation of wolves — and only be the last to know — was truly excessive beyond all measure.
Infuriated, he slammed the table hard and said fiercely: “Incompetence is tantamount to betraying the nation!”
That single phrase was clearly directed at his own son.
Who did not know that the batch of grain and fodder Angu had purchased was arranged through the Crown Prince after receiving their gold?
To be the heir to the throne, yet maintain such dealings with enemies like wolves — did he truly believe that, relying on his personal friendship with Angu, he could secure peace for all generations to come?
Situ Sheng bowed deeply before the Emperor, his voice ringing with clarity: “Your Majesty — this is Heaven’s blessing upon Great Jin! The fortune of the nation across a hundred years all hinges upon this moment. If Your Majesty would but act in accord with Heaven’s will and seize this once-in-a-thousand-years opportunity…”
At that, he lifted his gaze slightly toward the Emperor and said, word by word: “No matter who it was that stirred up this conflict, and no matter their intent — only by crushing the throats of these wolves will their insatiable hunger be checked. Since ancient times and through the ages, only a balance of firmness and flexibility can command respect on all four sides. In terms of flexibility, we have done everything that benevolence and righteousness require. But firmness — must be deployed at the right moment, or we risk remaining forever on the defensive!”
Emperor Jinren narrowed his eyes as he looked at the young official standing below.
For some reason, from this official, he increasingly sensed a quality that seemed somehow familiar.
There had once been another official, much older in years, who had knelt in the center of this very hall and spoken similar words to him.
But what year had that been? In those days, he too had been sharp-spirited and keen of heart — not the kind of Emperor who hesitated and second-guessed at every step…
Even amid his nostalgic feelings, Emperor Jinren still felt this course of action was aggressive and risky. What if Situ Sheng’s assessment contained errors, and the Jing Kingdom truly launched an all-out war — what then?
Situ Sheng replied with composure: “The voices of the people surging like a tide before the palace gates — are they not Your Majesty’s greatest source of support? Your Majesty has lamented the absence of trustworthy and capable officials at court. And yet, throughout history, has it not been in the tide of defending the border that countless capable generals and able ministers have come surging forth? Great times create heroes. If Your Majesty feels the lack of soldiers and generals, why not create a great wave of momentum and draw out a cadre of worthy commanders? One must by no means allow the common heroes of the realm to grow disheartened, feeling that all their solitary courage has no channel through which to serve the nation!”
Emperor Jinren still said nothing.
This young official’s thinking was calm and meticulous, his vision far-reaching — a truly rare talent for assisting in governing the nation.
Having been Emperor for so many years, he naturally understood that the art of ruling lay in knowing when to feign ignorance at the right moment, and more importantly, in knowing how to make good use of talented people.
Regrettably, in his younger years he had not grasped this truth. In the matter of the Yang Family, he had failed to feign ignorance and steady his composure, and as a result had clipped his own wings and suffered a grievous setback.
If he were to strike at the Li Family today, he would chill the hearts of father and son, and how would that differ from the decimation of the Yang Family?
Was Situ Sheng’s suggestion to test the true depths of the Jing Kingdom’s position — was it truly worth the risk?
That day the conversation between ruler and minister stretched on for a long while, with not even a personal attendant left in the room.
Yet the Crown Prince must have been desperate to know what had been discussed.
When Situ Sheng emerged, the Crown Prince had still not left, and had been waiting all that time outside the palace gates.
The moment he saw Situ Sheng come out, the Crown Prince walked over and asked, with a tone that was neither warm nor cold: “What — you were kept behind to plead Li Chengyi’s case? Actually, even without your intercession, I would have shown leniency beyond the law. But what exactly did your father the Emperor and you discuss?”
Situ Sheng rarely had close friends, but Li Chengyi could be counted as one. If Situ Sheng were to have a dispute with the Emperor at such a critical juncture, he would likely face a reprimand from the Emperor as well.
Hearing the Crown Prince’s question, Situ Sheng simply replied with a respectful bow: “His Majesty does not wish for this official to publicize it. If Your Highness truly wishes to know, you may ask His Majesty directly.”
The Crown Prince’s face turned quite ugly. Of all the officials in the entire court, the only one who dared speak to him — the Crown Prince — in such a manner was this prickly Situ Sheng.
There was no one around. He might as well speak plainly to this fellow.
With that thought, he stepped forward and fixed Situ Sheng with a fierce glare, asking with cold menace: “Does Lord Situ know that beneath the Emperor, it is the Crown Prince who holds authority? To show such disrespect to me — do you not think of your own future?”
Though the Emperor’s health was still reasonably sound, his years were advanced after all.
The beloved Consort Jing, who in her time had dominated the palace without rival, was gone. The young princes who had fortunately survived were either born of mothers of low standing, or were themselves without ability.
Among the grown princes, those who remained in the capital now amounted to only the Sixth Prince — weak and timid as a chick, with neither a mother’s family to support him nor any merit of his own.
So the Crown Prince could say he was in a perfectly secure position, with no rivals for the throne left to contend with.
Hearing the Crown Prince’s threat, blunt as it was, Situ Sheng responded as though he had not quite understood, his bright eyes lifting slightly as he replied in a mild tone: “Why should I think of it? The Martial Emperor of the former dynasty deposed two Crown Princes in succession, and ultimately installed the infant son of a beloved consort as heir to the state. He reigned long and governed well, all the way until the Crown Prince came of age before abdicating… This official observes that His Majesty will certainly surpass that Martial Emperor in longevity and long years of reign…”
The implications of these words struck like drumbeats directly upon the Crown Prince’s head. Furious, his temples throbbing, he lowered his voice and snarled: “Situ Sheng, you dare to curse me!”
Situ Sheng’s face was entirely devoid of any smile. He merely raised his voice slightly and asked in return: “Your Highness, this official begs your pardon — are you saying that I have spoken incorrectly, and that His Majesty does not bear the look of one destined for long life?”
The Crown Prince noticed that nearby guards had turned their gaze toward them. He instantly broke into a cold sweat, forced down that surge of wrath, and squeezed out a stiff smile: “Very well — Lord Situ speaks well! An official as considerate of the Emperor’s sentiments as you are — truly rare in this age. Since there is nothing of importance, my Lord may go ahead and take his leave!”
Situ Sheng offered a slight smile, bowed once more in salute, then turned and walked away.
It had been a long time since the Crown Prince had been left this thoroughly speechless, gasping for breath.
By now he was past forty years of age — by the standards of this dynasty, he could be counted as a rather “long-serving” Crown Prince. Yet the Emperor, though advanced in years, showed not the slightest inclination toward abdicating and retiring to enjoy his remaining years in peace, nor any intention of delegating authority to the heir for practical experience.
Could it be… that what Situ Sheng had implied was true — that if the Emperor found him unsatisfactory, he might in the future actually establish a young son in his place?
With that thought, the Crown Prince — who had long sat upon the throne of heir as though perched on a nest of arrows — immediately felt a surge of anxiety.
He suddenly thought: the Emperor had not had another son in recent years — was it that the Emperor was no longer capable, or was it the machinations of the late Consort Jing?
And if it were the latter, whom did the Emperor currently favor within the palace? Were any of those younger princes’ mothers stirring up trouble?
What had originally been a perfectly secure position became, in an instant — thanks to Situ Sheng’s pointed remarks — a landscape riddled with hidden dangers on all sides.
The Crown Prince decided to have his informants within the palace diligently monitor the Emperor’s daily schedule and movements, and furthermore keep a close and constant watch on the condition of those little whelps still living in the palace — their studies, their progress — all of it to be checked at regular intervals.
For a time, what Situ Sheng and the Emperor had just been discussing seemed far less important.
And very soon, the Crown Prince would not need to ask — he could guess the content of that ruler-and-minister conversation on his own.
For after that day, the envoys who had been drinking at the relay station were stormed by a great surge of Great Jin soldiers who poured in, pressed them to the ground, and bound them in chains. They were hauled to the local government offices and thrown into prison.
Because they had conspired with the deceased vicious man to harass and assault respectable women, and had also set upon and injured government runners on the public streets in an act of open lawlessness, they were sentenced in accordance with the law to twenty strokes of the plank and were to be expelled from the territory of Great Jin that very day.
Those twenty strokes were not delivered by any ordinary hand — the men summoned were, reportedly, practiced specialists brought in from the Court of Judicial Review.
Every stroke drew blood. Before the tenth blow had landed, those stalwart brutes from the Jing Kingdom were already howling in trembling voices, and by the time all twenty were done, they had been beaten senseless with pain.
Reportedly, among those who administered the punishment was one of the ruthless official Situ Sheng’s personal attendants.
He was said to be learning the art of administering the plank, and so had taken part in the punishment alongside the others — nearly breaking the plank itself, putting in his full effort with great energy.
Those envoys, beaten until their skin burst and flesh split open, were carried back to the Jing Kingdom on stretchers, together with the vicious man’s corpse.
Emperor Jinren’s letter to the Khan of the Jing Kingdom directly stated: since this was meant to be a peace negotiation, why send men who made bandits seem refined by comparison?
Was this not a deliberate humiliation of Great Jin — a premeditated provocation toward war?
Not all of the Jing Kingdom envoys were punished, however. Word had it that a few had secretly departed northward on the very day the vicious man had caused his disturbance, and thus had narrowly escaped the consequences.
Thereafter, the Emperor separated the intelligence-gathering operations for the northern territories from the military bureau entirely, placing them no longer under the Crown Prince’s jurisdiction but under the Emperor’s direct personal oversight.
A great many intelligence personnel were reassigned, and the situation had the unmistakable look of the military preparations typically made in the lead-up to a war.
And Situ Sheng, who had advocated for a firm stance against the Jing Kingdom, was greatly favored by the Emperor and promoted directly from the Ministry of Finance to the Bureau of Military Affairs, elevated to the position of Commissioner of the Bureau of Military Affairs — assisting the Prime Minister with governmental affairs. From a fourth-rank official, he rose to Senior First Rank, supplanting the Crown Prince to become the minister henceforth in charge of overseeing the peace negotiations.
Beyond that, General Li Chengyi, who had clashed in battle with the Jing Kingdom men, received not punishment but personal commendation from the Emperor himself, and was awarded the title of “Loyal and Valiant” General.
The elder General Li also received imperial command to personally oversee a large contingent of troops, with military forces being mobilized and deployed northward to establish defensive positions.
From that day forward, all border cities were placed under strict curfew, and the restrictions on merchants selling salt and grain to the northern territories were made far more severe.
Any private sale of grain and fodder was to be executed on the spot in accordance with military law.
For a moment, the civil and military officials of the entire court were left stunned — convinced that the Emperor had lost his senses and was wagering Great Jin’s century of prosperity on a provocation against a powerful enemy.
The Li Family — father and son — received their imperial commission and set out for the front lines without delay, heading north to take up their defensive positions.
On the day before their departure, Li Chengyi invited Situ Sheng to drink with him, and clasped his fists toward him, saying: “You previously saved me from a death-dealing arrow, and then spoke on my behalf before His Majesty — you have twice been my lifesaver. A great debt of gratitude need not be spoken aloud. I will find a way to repay it in the days to come!”
Situ Sheng clasped his fists in return: “You overstate it. If you go north and manage to hold back the several waves of retaliatory attacks the Jing Kingdom will surely launch, you will be my lifesaver in turn!”
Great Jin’s response had landed a burning slap across the face of the Jing Kingdom people, and they would inevitably leap up in retaliation.
This, too, was the conclusion he had reached through multiple meetings with the Emperor and the elder General Li, and after battlefield simulations of defensive deployments.
The Jing Kingdom’s grain and fodder were now insufficient, and with no channel to purchase more, they would not be capable of a sustained long-range campaign.
Whether or not they could withstand the first several waves of attack — that was the crux of the gambit between the two nations.
Two forces, each somewhat lacking in foundation, would see who could hold out the longest. If the Li Family — father and son — could not hold the border against the first wave of fierce assault, then Situ Sheng — the official who had insisted on locking arms with the Jing Kingdom — would be the first one pushed out as a sacrifice.
So Situ Sheng had not spoken in exaggeration. Li Chengyi once again clasped his fists toward him, declaring he would not fail the trust that had been placed in him.
Yet the Emperor’s resolute and forceful response had genuinely caught the court officials off guard.
At every morning court session, the atmosphere was like a funeral hall — officials took turns weeping and pleading, begging the Emperor to reconsider and not fall prey to the seductive words of a treacherous official, wagering the fate of the entire nation on a gamble.
Though waves of opposition surged through the court, among the common people the sounds of cheering were fervent and strong.
On that day, the Jing Kingdom envoys had been dragged from the relay station and beaten with planks at the most bustling intersection in all of Great Jin’s capital.
The crowd of onlookers had packed in three layers deep, with people even hanging from the surrounding trees just to watch, and every single onlooker had called out in approval, exclaiming again and again that their fury had been satisfyingly vented.
And the military recruitment that followed proceeded considerably more smoothly than in past years.
Many hot-blooded young men, upon hearing of the recent killings and plundering at the border at the hands of Jing Kingdom bandits, felt stirred with passionate indignation. The news that the Jing Kingdom envoys had met violent deaths on the streets and been expelled from the country was even more invigorating to the spirit. With the border now requiring military strength, and military pay being offered at generous rates, it was only natural that men eagerly lined up to enlist.
Chu Linlang’s shop was situated not far from the military barracks where enlistment was being conducted. It was the season for sun-drying red rice, and the midday sun was scorching hot, so the proprietors of the nearby shops had all been sending water over to the soldiers to quench their thirst.
Linlang had also cooked two large buckets of sweet mung bean soup. After all, on the day she and her people had managed to escape from the shop, it had been thanks in large part to many unknown neighbors who had stepped forward with brave and righteous hearts.
In addition to distributing it among the neighboring shopkeepers, Linlang — together with Xia He and Dongxue, who had just recovered from her injuries — went out to offer it to the men of valor lined up waiting to enlist.
In the midst of ladling out the soup, a carriage passed by.
The person inside the carriage lifted the curtain, and happened to see Chu Linlang smiling with radiant charm, distributing the sweet soup. Her expression darkened several shades.
The person inside the carriage was none other than Tao Huiru.
She had originally thought that Yang Yi, having adopted her scheme, would at the very least — even if unable to kill Chu Linlang — bring about a situation where Chu Linlang suffered humiliation at the hands of the Jing Kingdom men, her reputation utterly destroyed, leaving her without a foothold in the capital.
In all likelihood, she would have had no choice but to take her own life.
Situ Sheng, having lost the woman he cherished, would inevitably take out his anger on the Jing Kingdom envoys. And in doing so, he would disrupt the peace talks between the two nations, and his own fate would be no better.
Tao Huiru had not known whether Yang Yi would listen to her — and had been anxious and unsettled in her heart for some time.
In those several days, though she remained at home, she had sent people to wander near that marketplace, keeping watch on the situation.
She had never in her wildest dreams expected that this woman would have such extraordinary luck — emerging without so much as a scratch when the Jing Kingdom men were causing havoc in her shop, while that swaggering and ferocious Jing Kingdom warrior, the vicious man, ended up losing his life in the chaos.
When Tao Huiru heard word of it, she assumed her servants had been incompetent and misheard the story.
But later she asked her elder brother, and he said the same thing.
And so Tao Huiru had thought: with the Jing Kingdom envoy dying under such unexpected circumstances and the consequences being so serious, Chu Linlang’s shop was at the very center of where the incident had occurred — how could the proprietor escape any connection to it?
She had even considered whether she ought to say something to the Crown Prince, subtly suggesting that this woman’s habitual behavior was to use her looks to hook and seduce men, and that she was the root cause of this entire incident.
As it turned out, before she could even get around to spreading those insinuations before the Crown Prince — her own nephew — the Crown Prince had waved her off with undisguised impatience, indicating that a woman’s petty household gossip should not come to trouble him.
Did she not see how many pressing matters were on his hands right now? Who had time to listen to her tales of romantic scandal!
Then Tao Huiru learned that the Emperor had had absolutely no intention of punishing the person who had killed the vicious man.
Not only was there no investigation of responsibility — on the contrary, the Emperor adopted a stance of unprecedented firmness.
And all at once, even Chu Linlang — who had flung a face full of limestone powder at the Jing Kingdom envoy — was being spread about the neighborhood as some bold and valiant woman who had bravely resisted the Jing Kingdom bully and rescued the maidservant who had been harassed, earning widespread admiration.
The Emperor had even bestowed a reward upon her, saying that her upright and forthright character was the true nature of a daughter of Great Jin, and that she had not fallen short of the “Honorable Lady of New Plum” title conferred upon her…
On top of all that, Situ Sheng — who had previously been squeezed out on all sides by the powerful officials at court — had somehow seized upon the moment to align himself with the Emperor’s inclinations. No one knew what flattering words he had spoken to spur the Emperor toward military action, but he had once again begun climbing upward.
When the decree of Situ Sheng’s promotion was issued, the entire court was stunned.
For this young man with no notable background or influential backing had been promoted with truly astonishing speed. He had actually leapt from the fourth-rank position of Deputy Minister of Finance directly into the Bureau of Military Affairs, which oversaw governmental affairs and a portion of military authority, and assumed the position of Senior First Rank Commissioner.
From that day forward, he could enter and exit the Emperor’s imperial study freely, and engage the Emperor in discussions of state affairs at any time.
Among the officials of the Bureau of Military Affairs, every single one had been a seasoned veteran who had ground their bones to dust and refined themselves over long years before gaining entry — which of them was not a battle-hardened elder statesman?
That this young isolated official with few connections had managed, by some means, to earn such extraordinary trust and confidence from the Emperor was truly bewildering — nothing short of extraordinary!
Even her own father, the Duke, was troubled in spirit, repeatedly saying that a young man who had done nothing but twist words and talk cleverly, yet had risen in such a manner, was no cause for celebration in Great Jin.
Now the whole of Great Jin — high and low alike — seemed as though injected with a surge of fighting spirit. Even her son Tao Zan had come home the previous day with a face full of excitement, and had actually been shouting that the temple was boring and that he wanted to lay down his writing brush and take up arms, to achieve merit and distinction through military service.
Although Tao Zan had changed his surname to Tao from early childhood, he knew too that he was the descendant of a military general. Stories of his grandfather Yang Xun could be heard even in the teahouses.
So he believed he carried the bloodline of a military general in his veins, and how could he be content to be raised by his mother in a temple, becoming a cat that could not even catch a mouse?
Tao Huiru, upon hearing her son speak such treasonous words about modeling himself after his grandfather, trembled from head to foot with fury.
She shrieked at him with a voice gone hoarse, reminding him that his surname was Tao — he had only a maternal grandfather, no paternal grandfather!
She then scolded her son for the better part of half an afternoon before she finally suppressed that young and arrogant notion of his.
Ever since learning of Situ Sheng’s true identity, Tao Huiru had been tossing and turning through sleepless nights. So when her son had spoken those words about “returning to his true lineage,” her heart had erupted in rage.
She did not know what Situ Sheng’s purpose was in lurking at the Emperor’s side, nor did she know what role Yang Yi had played in the vicious man’s death.
These two — father and son alike — were none of them simple. Tao Huiru had originally sought to drive father against son in mutual conflict, but had not anticipated becoming the one now set over a pot of boiling oil, consumed with uneasy anxiety.
Tao Huiru was momentarily in a state of confused disarray, suspecting that her own scheme had actually given those father and son a flash of inspiration, allowing them to join forces and perform an act for the Emperor together.
It was her scheme that had enabled Situ Sheng to seize his moment and soar to glory…
How could this not make Tao Huiru grind her teeth to powder in secret, and in private beat her wooden prayer block, cursing Yang Yi to die a wretched death?
Moreover… thinking of the fact that Situ Sheng was the son of that madwoman Lady Wen, Tao Huiru — whose conscience toward Lady Wen was deeply troubled — felt as though a hundred claws were raking at her heart, wishing she could be rid of him this instant.
Yet this secret had to rot in her belly — she could tell no one.
Because the other end of this tethered grasshopper that was Situ Sheng was connected to her own son, Tao Zan.
Not even her father and brother could be trusted.
For if Situ Sheng’s secrets were ever exposed, her father’s temperament being what it was, he would sever ties even with her — his own daughter — to distance himself from the affair.
So-called father and brothers — they would not look after her and her fatherless child in the least.
Tao Huiru, clutching a secret that could bring Situ Sheng crashing to the ground, had yet to find the right place to thrust in the blade.
Just as she was coldly scrutinizing Chu Linlang, Chu Linlang happened to raise her head and notice Tao Huiru sitting inside the carriage, her expression shifting through clouds and light.
Yet this resident — whose gaze as she looked at others was deeply unfriendly — was met by Chu Linlang walking directly toward her, easy and gracious, calling out a greeting.