Chunhong’s concern and inquiry were met with a faint nod from Wanqing.
Thinking that the small courtyard had only her and Chunhong, and that she had coincidentally run into Xianglan shortly after leaving, Wanqing cast a cold glance at Chunhong and asked, “Are you worried about me?”
“Miss, Chunhong and you have depended on each other since childhood. You…”
The familiar face before her now seemed oddly unfamiliar, especially the cold glance Wanqing had given her. For some reason, this version of her mistress made Chunhong inexplicably uneasy.
They had relied on each other since childhood, yet faced with Wanqing’s cool questioning, Chunhong couldn’t help but feel wronged and complained, “I was just teasing you. Look how nervous you are. I just slipped and fell into the water by accident, and a kind stranger saved me and found me some clothes. Achoo…”
Remembering the bond between the original owner and Chunhong, Wanqing softened her expression. But as she spoke, she suddenly shivered and sneezed.
“Miss, you should hurry back and change into dry clothes. Where are you hurt? Let Chunhong take a look.”
Seeing her shiver, Chunhong anxiously helped her inside. Noticing the bloodstains on her clothes, she didn’t even bother fetching fresh ones first, her eyes filled with worry as she scanned Wanqing up and down.
“It’s nothing. I just had my monthly cycle and fell into the water. Don’t worry. Achoo.”
Wanqing frowned at Chunhong’s concern and nervousness. Her reaction didn’t seem feigned, but Wanqing remained cautious. Another shiver wracked her body, and she sneezed again.
“Miss, here, put this on quickly. I’ll go fetch a menstrual belt for you.”
Seeing her sneeze again, Chunhong swiftly handed her a set of dry clothes and turned to leave.
“Chunhong, no need. I still have some in my room. Go make me a bowl of ginger soup instead. I’ll change and rest—I’ll be fine after a nap.”
As Chunhong rushed out, Wanqing called her back, took the slightly worn dress she offered, and headed behind the folding screen while giving instructions.
Though she wasn’t favored, she had her own stove in the courtyard. Food and supplies were delivered from the front courtyard, and Chunhong usually handled the cooking while Wanqing simply ate. Aside from having her own matters to attend to, she also wanted to test Chunhong’s loyalty through this incident.
“Alright, Miss. Change your clothes and lie down for a bit. Chunhong will make the ginger soup right away.”
Despite Wanqing’s reassurance, Chunhong still seemed uneasy and hurried off after reminding her.
Once Chunhong’s footsteps faded, Wanqing quickly changed out of her wet clothes, bundled them—along with the man’s robe—into a roll, placed them in a basin with some water, and then stepped outside.
—
**Front Courtyard.**
**”Twilight Pavilion,” where the eldest daughter, Mu Wanxia, resided.**
“It’s so late, and there’s been no news. Xianglan, have you heard anything about that girl returning?”
Dressed in elegant lavender robes, Mu Wanxia sat gracefully by a lakeside pavilion. Under the crimson lantern light, her slender fingers—adorned with red nail polish—plucked grapes from a plate as she questioned Xianglan, who stood nearby.
“Miss, don’t worry. With the medicine Madam provided and that place she was sent to, how could she possibly return? Even if she shamelessly came back, would Young Master Sun still want her after learning she’s been defiled?”
Xianglan showed no remorse for her actions. Instead, she smugly reassured her mistress.
“Though Mother’s medicine is potent, I won’t rest easy until I see her dead. Go to the gate and check for news. Return immediately, whether there’s word or not.”
Frowning slightly, Mu Wanxia ate another grape and gave Xianglan a quiet order. After Xianglan nodded and left, she beckoned a maid waiting outside the pavilion.
—
**Outside Twilight Pavilion.**
Wanqing lurked in the dim light, watching as Xianglan stepped out of the courtyard. After ensuring no one was nearby, she swiftly approached from behind, wrapping an arm around Xianglan’s neck and covering her mouth. Pressing the dagger she’d taken from the black-clad man against Xianglan’s throat, she whispered coldly,
“Make a sound, and you die. Come with me.”
Terrified into silence and submission, Xianglan allowed herself to be dragged toward a secluded spot behind the garden’s rockery.
Once there, Wanqing kicked the back of Xianglan’s knees and struck her waist with the dagger’s hilt. Releasing her, she stepped back and smirked as Xianglan collapsed to the ground.
Xianglan, already paralyzed with fear from the blade at her throat, had planned to scream for help once they reached a deserted area. But the sharp pain in her legs sent her stumbling to her knees. As she knelt, her entire body stiffened unnaturally, as if no longer under her control.
Trembling, she looked up at Wanqing’s eerily calm smile. Recognizing her, Xianglan instinctively opened her mouth to scream—only to freeze as Wanqing pressed the dagger harder against her throat.
“Everything you’ve done to me, I remember. Stay quiet, or I can’t guarantee where this blade will go next. Who ordered you to drug my tea? Who told you to send me to the brothel?”
Seeing Xianglan’s horrified expression—as if staring at a ghost—Wanqing’s heart grew colder. The original owner had died indirectly because of this treacherous maid. When Xianglan’s mouth gaped in protest, Wanqing pressed the dagger harder and repeated her question.
“I…”
Xianglan shuddered under Wanqing’s piercing gaze. The brothel madam had assured her escape was impossible—yet here Wanqing stood.
“Before, I was weak, passive, and endured everything. Yet I still couldn’t escape your schemes. From now on, I won’t spare anyone who harms or plots against me. Speak. If you refuse, I can keep you paralyzed, mute, and then slice you apart piece by piece—letting you watch your own flesh fall away while you linger in agony…”
Wanqing’s tone was conversational, but the dagger in her hand pressed deeper.
“Ah! I’ll talk! It was the Eldest Miss! She ordered me to do it!”
The pain at her throat made Xianglan cry out. Seeing Wanqing’s icy glare, she quickly lowered her voice and whimpered.
“The Eldest Sister?”
Wanqing frowned. Though her third sister, Mu Wanjun, and fourth sister, Mu Wanyu, often bullied her, the eldest—as the legitimate daughter—had merely looked down on her, never directly causing trouble. Yet Xianglan’s confession made her question the motive.
“No—Madam was involved too! Second Miss, please spare me! It was Madam and the Eldest Miss who made me do it!”
Xianglan, mistaking Wanqing’s skepticism for disbelief, hastily shook her head, tears streaming as she begged.
For some reason, the woman before her terrified her more than Madam or her mistress ever had.
“Madam? The Eldest Miss?” Wanqing murmured, recalling Madam Liu, who, though indifferent, had never outright abused her. Considering Madam’s doting on Mu Wanxia, she nodded in understanding—then pressed the dagger harder. “Why did they target me?”
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