Wen Lingrao pointed toward the chaotic, looting crowd in the courtyard.
“Now that they are seizing your belongings, you feel your heart ache. But when you were docking their pay and squeezing them dry, did their hearts not ache?”
A guttural roar escaped Chu Huan’s throat as he violently struggled to get up.
“You—”
His face turned crimson and the veins on his neck bulged as he desperately tried to push himself off the ground.
However, Ling Ji pressed his foot down slightly, forcing him flat against the earth once more.
Wen Lingrao simply looked down at him, remaining completely still.
Chu Huan lay on the ground, panting heavily.
After a long while, he suddenly raised his head, glared at Wen Lingrao with sheer malice, and began to curse at her furiously:
“You venomous woman! You will die a horrible death! Who do you think you are? You are merely relying on the fact that your mother is the Grand Princess and your maternal grandmother is the Grand Empress Dowager! Stripped of all that, what kind of worthless thing would you be!”
His venomous insults grew increasingly foul:
“Let me tell you, your triumph won’t last long! The Old Madam will not let you off! The Heir will not let you off either! You think you’ve won? Dream on! Just you wait, the day will come when you’ll be weeping!”
Wen Lingrao listened quietly, her face devoid of expression.
Only after he had finished his tirade did she speak: “Are you done cursing?”
Chu Huan panted heavily, glaring at her with utter hatred.
Wen Lingrao stood up and looked down at him.
“Chu Huan, do you know why you lost?”
Chu Huan remained silent.
Wen Lingrao smiled faintly. “You lost because you thought I was just like the rest of you.”
The courtyard was a scene of utter chaos.
The servants were still frantically looting, their screams and laughter blending into a noisy din.
A few old women almost came to blows over a cotton quilt, while a courtyard-sweeping maid clutched a mahogany box, grinning so widely that her teeth and eyes were squeezed shut. Tong Meng stood to the side with the guards, watching the crowd plunder without making any move to stop them.
The Young Madam had said that they could split half of the remaining items, so he would let them do just that.
Just as Wen Lingrao reached the courtyard entrance, she suddenly halted her steps.
A noisy commotion of approaching footsteps echoed from a distance, interspersed with a man’s furious roars.
“Rebellion! This is an outright rebellion!”
“They are turning the world upside down!”
“I want to see exactly who gave them the audacity to do this!”
Wen Lingrao narrowed her eyes and looked toward the source of the noise.
A large crowd was surging toward them, led by a man whose head was completely wrapped in layers upon layers of white gauze, leaving only his eyes and mouth exposed.
His eyes were wide open and round, practically spitting fire.
It was none other than the Heir of the Marquis of Changning, Chu Qirui.
Behind him followed seven or eight elderly men, every single one of them with an ashen face, their beards trembling with intense rage.
Wen Lingrao recognized a few of them; they were the clan elders of the Chu family. They usually lived elsewhere in the capital and never visited unless there was trouble.
“Get out of the way! Everyone, get out of my way!”
Chu Qirui strode fiercely into the courtyard, his eyes taking in the utter mess spread across the ground.
Clothes and fabrics were strewn everywhere, and several old women were running outward with armfuls of belongings, making the courtyard look as though it had been ransacked by thieves.
Looking closer, he saw a man pinned flat in the center of the courtyard, with a foot planted firmly on his back.
It was Chu Huan.
Chu Qirui’s entire body began to shake violently.
He pointed at Wen Lingrao, his finger trembling like a sieve. “You… you… you—”
Wen Lingrao looked at him calmly. “The Heir has arrived? What happened to your head?”
She was asking despite already knowing the answer. The wound on Chu Qirui’s head had been inflicted by her own hands when she struck him that night.
Wen Lingrao’s question only added fuel to the fire.
He ripped the gauze off his head, exposing the wound on his forehead, and shouted to the clan elders behind him:
“Uncles, look at this! This is the fine work of this venomous woman! She struck me! She beat me into this state! And my mother—my mother was beaten by her as well! She is still lying in bed right now, unable to get up!”
The clan elders took in a sharp breath as they stared at the wound.
An old man leaning on a walking stick took a step forward, striking his staff heavily against the ground with a dull thud.
“Lady Wen!” he barked harshly. “Do you plead guilty?!”
Wen Lingrao looked at him and recognized him as Third Uncle, the highest-ranking elder in the Chu family. He was in his seventies and held absolute authority within the clan.
“Where is Third Uncle’s accusation coming from?” she asked, neither submissive nor overbearing.
Third Uncle’s beard quivered with rage. “Look at this courtyard! Setting up an illegal court, inciting servants to beat the steward, and plundering property! Do you still have any respect for the law of the land? Do you have any respect for the Chu family’s rules?”
Another clan elder stepped forward, pointing right at Wen Lingrao’s nose as he cursed, “Lady Wen, you dared to strike your husband and your mother-in-law, and you even dare to seize the estate’s property! A wicked woman like you would have been drowned in a pig basket in the days of our Chu family ancestors!”
“That’s right! Drown her in a pig basket!”
“We cannot keep this venomous woman!”
The elders chimed in one after another, their voices growing louder and more vehement by the second.
Seeing that he had backers, Chu Qirui gained a surge of confidence. He took a step forward, pointed at Wen Lingrao, and shouted, “Uncles, look! This is the fine wife I married! I, Chu Qirui, must have been blind to marry such a venomous snake! She beat me, she beat my mother, and now she is plundering our own family’s assets! If we do not divorce this woman, the century-old foundation of the Chu family will be entirely destroyed in her hands!”
As he spoke, he turned and cupped his hands toward the elders. “Uncles, please back me up today and grant a divorce from this venomous woman!”
The servants who had been frantically plundering had long since stopped their hands. They froze in place, watching the scene unfold in utter bewilderment.
The Young Madam was going to be divorced?
If so, could they still keep the items they had just taken?
A few old women clutched their belongings tightly to their chests, quietly shrinking backward. The courtyard-sweeping maid held her mahogany box, her face turning pale.
Standing to the side, Tong Meng’s expression changed as well. He looked toward Wen Lingrao, his eyes filled with deep anxiety.
Hong Ying was stamping her feet in frustration, desperately wanting to step forward and speak, yet completely at a loss for words.
Third Uncle leaned on his walking stick, pacing step by step until he stood right in front of Wen Lingrao, his cloudy eyes burning with fury.
“Lady Wen,” he said, enunciating every single syllable, “what else do you have to say for yourself?”
Wen Lingrao stood quietly, her face devoid of any expression.
She pulled her gaze away from the clan elders, letting it shift inch by inch until it landed squarely on Chu Qirui.
Her gaze was thoroughly cold and detached, resembling a bitter winter wind.
Met with her chilling stare, Chu Qirui suddenly felt a shiver run straight up his spine.
He subconsciously took a step backward.
The corners of Wen Lingrao’s mouth curled slightly into a faint smile.
“Heir, what did you just say? A divorce?”
Chu Qirui’s lips quivered.
Wen Lingrao took a step forward.
Just a single step.
Yet, as if he had just seen a ghost, Chu Qirui instantly took another step back.
His behavior was exactly like a mouse encountering a cat.
Standing to the side, Hong Ying could hardly suppress a strong urge to laugh.
Her lady’s powerful, commanding presence truly was unmatched.
After taking two steps, Wen Lingrao stopped moving. She stood in place, staring at Chu Qirui’s deathly pale face, and suddenly inquired:
“Heir, have you perhaps forgotten what I told you just a few days ago?”
Chu Qirui was stunned.
What did she say?
His mind raced frantically as he tried to recall her words, but no matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t remember.
Seeing his clueless expression, Wen Lingrao did not grow angry; instead, she merely let out a soft, gentle sigh.
“The Heir’s memory really isn’t very good.” As she spoke, she raised her hand and gestured above her own head. “Allow me to remind the Heir—how exactly did you become bald right here?”
Chu Qirui’s face drained of color instantly.
He subconsciously raised his hand, reaching up to feel the top of his head.
It was completely bare, without a single strand of hair left.