Yao Ji had always only sold freshly baked, warm pastries.
These Peach Blossom Crisps happened to be the stepmother’s favorite.
Wen Xueling kept her eyes downcast, neither taking the pastries nor exposing his lie.
A look of gratification flashed in Mu Qingyu’s eyes as she praised him, “Jinli has grown up. Two years ago, he was still prone to oversleeping, but now he can wake up early to buy pastries.”
Not daring to look into his mother’s eyes, Wen Jinli felt a pang of guilt.
“When will Brother take Mother and me back to the mansion?”
Wen Xueling saw through his hypocrisy. She stared into his evasive eyes, waiting for his answer.
To her surprise, he smiled and said, “Mother, I have already prepared a quiet courtyard for you nearby.”
She frowned. “What does Brother mean by this?”
“Xueling, Father is an upright official who offers blunt advice; he has countless enemies. Who knows how many eyes are watching us from the shadows? You and Mother are defenseless women; what if someone targets you?
“Besides, Eldest Brother is away at war with no set return date, and Second and Third Brothers are also away. I must also enter the palace as a study attendant. It is truly unsafe for you to be in the mansion.”
He thought they still didn’t know about the scumbag father remarrying and was trying everything he could to hide it for him.
Wen Xueling’s gaze turned cold as she was pulled out of the room by Wen Jinli.
“Xueling, the place where you saw me the other night was not Father’s mansion. We were merely visiting for a banquet. You must never tell Mother about this.”
That he could speak such false and foolish words—his brain must have been soaked in a pig cage over the last two years.
She stared into his eyes and said softly, “Brother, a woman kept outside is a mistress, but Mother is the legitimate first wife, wed with proper honors, is she not?”
“You little fool, what nonsense are you talking about!” Wen Jinli glanced at the closed door, his expression turning extremely sour.
This Fourth Brother really did want to cover for that scumbag father.
Wen Xueling exposed him further. “Could it be… that there are other concubines in the mansion?”
“Shut up! What concubines? How can a young lady like you speak so vulgarly!”
Seeing him defend the stepmother so fiercely, Wen Xueling questioned, “Brother, since there are no concubines at home, and Mother and I do not fear danger, why can’t we enter the mansion?”
“It’s just not allowed, that’s all.” He didn’t dare speak the true reason, and his voice carried a hint of inexplicable shame and irritation.
As the two were arguing, a voice came from behind them.
The hearts of the siblings suddenly tightened.
Even though she had seen him in her past life, at this moment, he was still a stranger.
Before Wen Xueling was old enough to remember things, the scumbag father, Wen Jingshu, had already been summoned back to Jingcheng by the new Emperor and had never returned since.
The entire inn fell into silence.
The inn had been surrounded by soldiers from the Prime Minister’s Mansion.
Wen Xueling glanced at his bandaged hand.
He was also sizing her up, but there was no warmth in his eyes; it was as if she were merely an insignificant person.
Wen Jingshu said coldly, “Are you Xueling?”
She didn’t want to call him ‘Dad’ or ‘Father.’
But she knew that if she wanted to proceed with her plans, she had to overcome this.
She gave a tentative nod in response.
Seeing the scumbag father appear, Wen Jinli, who had been feeling unsure, suddenly breathed a sigh of relief. He called out respectfully, “Father, you’ve come. This is my younger sister—Wen Xueling.”
This girl’s body is stiff, she’s too timid, and she has the air of a small-town upbringing. She cannot be compared to An’an.
A flicker of disappointment passed through Wen Jingshu’s eyes as he said to his son, “Jinli, take Xueling out for a walk.”
Wen Xueling spoke with a firm, resonant voice: “I’m not going.”
She would not let her mother face this heartless man alone.
To be contradicted by her the moment they met—speaking without weighing her words and showing no regard for seniority—Wen Jingshu’s impression of this daughter grew even worse.
Wen Jinli looked displeased and grabbed her wrist to pull her toward the stairs.
“Now is not the time for you to be willful. Father has things to discuss with Mother. You’ll only be an eyesore here.”
This morning, in order to come see them, he hadn’t even had time to eat breakfast with his mother and An’an. His stomach was empty, yet she was throwing a tantrum in front of their father; she truly had no sense of propriety.
A daughter raised in the countryside really couldn’t compare to the gentle and lovely An’an.
At this moment, he still preferred that other sister.
A flash of mockery appeared in Wen Xueling’s eyes. Father and son truly were of the same ilk; neither of them held her or her mother in any regard.
She was here to scheme against them, not to be schemed against by them.
Wen Xueling shook off her stupid brother’s hand and met the scumbag father’s displeased gaze directly, calm and fearless.
“I haven’t seen you since I was old enough to remember things.”
“…But I have read the entire room full of books you left at home, and I have traced all of your calligraphy models.”
Wen Jingshu paused.
The books he left in Huaxi County numbered in the hundreds, if not a thousand. She actually claimed to have read them all? Could this child be exaggerating just to get his attention?
“I heard from Mother that you were very happy when I was born and often held me while reading. I’ve memorized those books until they are etched in my mind, and the school teachers all praised my intelligence. So why did you never come back to see me?”
She lowered her head, feigning dejection, while her eyes turned icy. She put on an act of a daughter’s melancholy and sadness at not being loved by her father.
“Meeting me today, you don’t seem happy at all.”
When she looked up again, tears gathered in her eyes, stubbornly refusing to fall. “Father, you no longer like me as a daughter, do you?”
She played the part of a daughter longing for her father to perfection.
Hearing the questioning in her words, a trace of hesitation crossed Wen Jingshu’s distant and indifferent face. His tone softened slightly. “Xueling, it’s not that Father doesn’t like you.”
“It’s just that Father hasn’t seen you for over ten years, and I’m a bit… unaccustomed to it.”