Chapter 49: Thoughts Laid Bare

Han sneered coldly, suddenly realizing just how utterly repulsive the man before her was. “Qingyun is my own flesh and blood. Of course she should be brought home. As for who truly does not belong in this household, everyone here knows the answer in their hearts.”

Shen Zhifeng seemed to sense he had spoken amiss. His gaze flickered away, yet male pride stiffened his neck as he pressed on, shouting, “She grew up in the countryside—who would want a daughter so disgraceful? If not for Sisi, who pleaded with me for the sake of sisterhood, do you think she would be enjoying her current life?”

“Oh? Then I wonder who brought disgrace upon themselves today?” Han retorted with a cold laugh.

Shen Qingyun immediately sensed there was more behind Shen Zhifeng’s words. Before she could speak, Shen Sisi burst into tears, attempting to rise from the bed and leave, only to collapse back down in a heap.

“Father, please say no more. I do not blame my sister, nor do I blame Mother. I know they resent me for having taken her place all these years—I understand. I will leave on my own.”

The old madam was beside herself with distress, cradling Shen Sisi in her arms. “Han, you have gone too far. After all, you raised this child for more than ten years—how can you be so cold and unfeeling? The Duke’s household has so few heirs; instead of reflecting on yourself, you cannot even tolerate Sisi?”

“Han, I truly misjudged you,” Shen Zhifeng’s voice was cool and grave. “I thought that even if you could not treat them equally, you would at least avoid unreasonable favoritism. It seems your heart has already left this household.”

The memory of Xiao Jue’s burning gaze toward her earlier that day filled Shen Zhifeng with irritation.

Tears welled in Han’s eyes. “If you wish to accuse, any excuse will do.”

Unable to bear watching Han be maligned, Shen Qingyun stepped forward. “Father, you keep accusing me of harming my sister. What, exactly, have I done?”

“Still have the nerve to ask? If you hadn’t drugged the pastries you gave Sisi, how could she have embarrassed herself so?”

The old madam let out a cold laugh, fussing over her beloved Sisi.

Shen Qingyun turned to Shen Sisi. “Sister, is this what you believe? On what grounds do you claim I drugged you?”

Shen Sisi, nestled in the old madam’s arms, replied tremulously, “Sister, I don’t mean to suspect you, but today I only ate the pastries you handed me, and look at the spectacle that followed—my reputation is ruined. And yet you…”

“Sister, mind your words,” Shen Qingyun interrupted sharply. “Those pastries were prepared by Her Majesty the Empress. I merely passed one to you and ate several myself. With so many people present, how could I have tampered with them? If you’re so convinced the pastries were at fault, what will Her Majesty think if she hears of your suspicions?”

Indeed, she had not tampered with the pastries.

In truth, the Empress Dowager’s birthday banquet was a weighty affair; a misstep could implicate the entire household and do her and her mother no good. Still, she was no saint. Long before the event, Hanyu had administered a mild toxin to Shen Sisi—a poison that would not take effect immediately, but required a catalyst.

That catalyst had been given to Hongyu. In the cramped carriage, when Hongyu spilled it, Shen Sisi naturally inhaled it. She brought trouble upon herself; had she not allowed Hongyu to act, she would not have made such a spectacle of herself.

Shen Sisi, of course, was utterly unaware. She trembled, glaring at Shen Qingyun. How could she possibly report this to the palace? All Shen Qingyun ever did was threaten her with the Empress.

Shen Zhifeng’s gaze grew darker still. He sensed that his daughter from the countryside had grown—her words now carried unexpected weight. She was becoming someone even he scarcely recognized.

Han drew a deep breath. “Qingyun is right. Sisi had tea today and ate plenty yesterday as well. If you are truly worried about the pastries, I could request an audience with the Empress and ask her to investigate.”

“Enough!” The old madam quickly stood. “How can you disturb Her Majesty over such a thing?”

Shen Zhifeng had calmed by now. “Naturally, the pastries are not at fault. But who’s to say Qingyun didn’t act elsewhere? Otherwise, how could Sisi end up like this? Problems like these never arose before Qingyun’s return.”

Lowering her gaze, Han no longer wished to look at their faces. “Since the pastries are innocent, I’ll take Qingyun to rest. If you doubt our daughter so, then so be it. My lord, if you have any proof, by all means present it!”

“Han Rou, you—!”

Ignoring him, Han gave a curt bow to the old madam, then left with Shen Qingyun, never once looking back.

Watching her retreating figure, Shen Zhifeng felt the reins of many things slipping from his grasp. Murderous intent flickered in his eyes.

—

Han escorted Shen Qingyun back to the Jianjia Courtyard, waiting until Nanny Jiang brought medicine before returning alone to the Nuan Yu Pavilion.

The day’s turmoil had left her utterly exhausted.

Pearl, full of concern, dabbed ointment on Shen Qingyun’s face. The girl’s fair, youthful skin was marred by a swollen, angry handprint, bringing tears to Pearl’s eyes. “Miss, the master was far too harsh.”

Shen Qingyun’s head still buzzed. Though she had said little earlier, her mind kept replaying Shen Zhifeng’s words.

“If not for Sisi’s pleas, do you think you’d have returned? You’d have been stuck in that rural backwater all your life!”

There was more to those words than met the ear.

Of course. The old nursemaid was surely long dead, all clues erased, and more than a decade had passed—how was she suddenly found?

If Shen Zhifeng had orchestrated the baby switch, he alone might have known where she had been sent.

Could it be that her own discovery had also been by design?

Why would Shen Zhifeng do this?

The answer was clear: for Sisi, so she could return and marry Jiang Lin.

This way, Sisi would be free from the betrothal and could aim even higher, perhaps at the Third Prince. Meanwhile, he had already colluded with Madam Jiang, seizing all the dowry Han had prepared for her daughter.

Perhaps there were other motives still…

The sharp pain in her cheek broke her thoughts. Shen Qingyun’s gaze darkened, but seeing the tears in Pearl’s eyes, she managed a wry smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him hurt me like this a second time.”

That slap had severed the last fragile thread of father-daughter affection between them.

It had awakened her.

If one must strike at an enemy, let it be a fatal blow.

In the shadows, Hanyu watched the swelling on Shen Qingyun’s face, his eyes cold and fists clenched tight.

Only after Shen Qingyun fell asleep did he dare approach.

Even in sleep, her brows remained knitted, her lips moving in some unknown dream. The injury on her face was healing, yet it lent her a fragile air.

Hanyu turned away and, under cover of night, slipped onto the beams above Shen Zhifeng’s room.

The lamplight inside was dim, but voices drifted out.

“My lord, must we really do this?”

“She loves her daughter so deeply—let the girl be the one to send her off. She will have no regrets.”