Song Xinyin was dumbfounded, unable to comprehend why her aunt had suddenly changed her attitude.
"I won't go! I won't go!" She hadn't done anything wrong. She was merely disciplining a lowly servant—why should she apologize?
Yang Wanqing couldn't bear to see her like this and said, "I'll have Yin'er come apologize to you once she's calmed down. As a mother, you shouldn't be so petty. Teaching children is right, but you shouldn't use brute force."
Shen Qingqing curled her lips: "Eldest sister-in-law seems quite experienced? How come I remember you don't have any children?"
"Why must you constantly bring up my childlessness?" Yang Wanqing snapped angrily.
"Wasn't it eldest sister-in-law who was teaching me how to manage children?" Shen Qingqing smiled mockingly before turning to leave, "Nanzhi, bring Lvyun with us."
Seeing that Lvyun's knee injuries were severe and she could barely walk, Nanzhi picked the girl up. Looking at Lvyun's timid face and large eyes, she inexplicably felt a sense of familiarity.
Why did she so closely resemble how the mistress looked as a child?
"Apply some medicine to the child," Shen Qingqing instructed Nanzhi.
When Nanzhi removed Lvyun's clothes, she discovered injuries both old and new covering her small body—a heartbreaking sight. "What suffering has this child endured? How could she be in such a pitiful state?"
Shen Qingqing's heart ached at the sight. The old injuries clearly had nothing to do with Song Xinyin, indicating the child had been abused long before.
"Let her stay here for now. We'll decide what to do after she recovers."
In her previous life, Shen Qingqing had vague memories of this child. A girl named Xiaocao had been purchased to live with Song Xinyin, but she never witnessed Song Xinyin bullying her. Only once, when the girl apparently made some mistake, she was forced to drink hot oil that scalded her throat.
Song Xinyin was punished for that incident, and after that, Shen Qingqing rarely saw the child. Once, she happened to encounter her and noticed scars covering her cheeks.
Thinking back now, it seemed quite strange.
No other maids in the household had been treated this way—why was this particular child abused so severely?
"Mama Zhao, prepare some food for the child." The four-year-old looked much thinner and weaker than Song Xinyin, truly pitiable.
"Make it light—her stomach might not handle rich food well."
Mama Zhao prepared some congee and easily digestible pastries.
The food was ready just as Nanzhi finished applying the medicine.
Initially too scared to eat, the child stared wide-eyed at Shen Qingqing and Nanzhi, wiping her hands repeatedly on her clothes before daring to pick up chopsticks.
"Don't wipe your hands like that—it'll prevent your wounds from healing properly," Nanzhi cautioned. "Go ahead and eat, but be careful—it's hot."
She ate slowly at first, then began devouring the food ravenously, clearly starving.
But as she ate, faint sobbing sounds emerged.
Nanzhi looked down and discovered the child was crying.
"Why are you crying?"
"Sorry, sorry," she apologized while desperately wiping her tears.
"It's alright, don't be afraid. Finish eating first, then we can talk," Shen Qingqing comforted her.
After the meal, Shen Qingqing drew her aside. "I want to ask you a few questions. Answer truthfully, alright?"
She nodded. "I'll tell you everything, Madam."
Her speech was surprisingly clear.
"Have you ever seen that woman from before?"
Lvyun nodded. "A few times."
"How did she treat you?"
At this question, the child visibly shrank back, radiating fear and unease.
"Every time we meet, she hits and scolds me." The more she recalled, the more painful it became. "She says I'm the child of a low-born woman, destined to suffer and endure hardship my whole life!"
Shen Qingqing frowned, growing increasingly uneasy.
"Who do you usually live with?"
"With my parents. They often beat me." As she spoke, she began sobbing quietly. "I overheard them talking—they're not my real parents. They said as long as they beat me regularly, they'd get money."
Nanzhi and Mama Zhao couldn't bear to listen any longer.
"How utterly despicable! How could they do this to such a young child?"
"Were you bought by the Song family's young mistress on the street?"
Lvyun shook her head. "They took me to the street and handed me over to the young mistress."
Shen Qingqing reached out to wipe her tears. The girl was both startled and overjoyed—no one had ever been so gentle with her before. She had always been beaten, starved, and cursed at, called a little bastard and told she was born lowly, only fit to be named Xiaocao.
"Mama Zhao, take her to rest. This child looks like she hasn't had enough sleep."
"No need to rest! I've eaten my fill, I can work!" she said nervously. She didn't want to be driven out and wanted to prove herself useful. Though there might still be beatings and scoldings here, with the mistress around—who was so kind—it was different.
"Be good now. You must listen to the mistress. Rest first, then you can work."
Mama Zhao carried the little girl away.
After a moment's thought, Nanzhi voiced her suspicion. "Mistress, this servant keeps feeling something isn't right. Could this be Madam Yang's enemy's child? She deliberately found people to torment her, planning to place her beside the young mistress when she's older and incite the young mistress to mistreat her."
Shen Qingqing didn't respond, merely staring blankly at the bowls and chopsticks on the table.
"Mistress?" Nanzhi grew uneasy seeing her expression.
After a long pause, she finally spoke. "Nanzhi, do you think she looks like me?"
"Yes, quite. Having grown up with you since childhood, if she weren't so thin and frail, she'd resemble you seven or eight parts out of ten."
As these words left her mouth, Nanzhi suddenly realized something, instinctively covering her mouth, shocked by her own thought.
"I now suspect she might be my daughter."
"Mistress?" Though Nanzhi had considered this possibility too, she found it utterly absurd and unlikely.
"If Lvyun is your daughter, then whose child is the young mistress?"
Shen Qingqing looked up at her but remained silent.
"Could it be… No, no, that's impossible! When you gave birth, both Mama Zhao and I were present. The child couldn't have been switched."
"Were you watching every single moment? Never taking your eyes off the child? Not even for an instant?"
With each pointed question, Nanzhi's face grew paler. Her eyes darted around as she desperately tried to recall the events of that day.
"After you gave birth, the Marquis held the child. He ordered me to fetch something. If he had also sent Mama Zhao away, then only he, the child, and you—who were unconscious—would have remained in the room."
They hadn't kept constant watch over the child, so it was possible the baby had been switched.
Typically, men weren't allowed in the delivery room, as it was believed to bring them bad luck and affect their fortune. But Song Lingxiao had insisted on staying to accompany her during childbirth, disregarding all such taboos. At the time, everyone in the Marquis Manor thought the Marquis adored his wife beyond measure, considering her the luckiest woman in the world, which only solidified his reputation as a doting husband.
But what if, viewed from another angle, the Marquis had stayed during the delivery precisely to make it easier to switch the children?
The more she thought about it, the more terrifying it became. She didn't dare dwell on it any further.
"Do you remember, every time I became pregnant, Yang Wanqing would leave the residence, and she would return right after I finished my postpartum confinement."
"I remember, Madam! But when you gave birth to the Dragon-Phoenix Twins, she wasn't here either!" Nanzhi felt a chill run through her body, as if a cruel truth was laid bare before her.