“That’s only natural! If they like it, we’ll perform for them,” Wen Shiyi said, eyes glinting with a cold light as she lightly waved her round fan toward Sui Changle.
“Xiangyun, issue the order: something has gone missing here. Anyone in the household who provides information shall be handsomely rewarded.”
Changle accompanied her mother in the flower hall, barely having sipped their tea, when a few older female servants escorted a young maid inside.
Xiangyun stepped forward to report:
“Madam, the investigation is complete. It was Cuizhi who stole the items and sold them.”
The older women released their grip, and Cuizhi trembled as she knelt on the ground.
Wen Shiyi set down her teacup with a soft clink:
“Cuizhi, was it you who stole my dowry? Think carefully before you answer.”
Cuizhi lowered her head, too afraid to meet Wen Shiyi’s gaze.
Her fists were clenched, palms damp with sweat. Recalling her father’s words, she bit her lip and prostrated herself:
“Madam, I was possessed by a momentary madness. Please spare my life!”
Her father had promised that if she took the blame, the master would erase her slave status—and perhaps even allow her to become a concubine, half a mistress of the Sui household.
Wen Shiyi cast her a cold glance:
“Evidence in hand, the girl has stolen from her mistress and cannot deny it. Bring her down and execute her with the rod!”
Cuizhi had planned to feign pleas for mercy, but hearing the word “execute” made her blood run cold.
She had dreamed of becoming a concubine for the master—but without life, what use were his promises?
“No… Madam! It wasn’t me! Please spare me!”
The older women pressed her down; her pleas were muffled.
Wen Shiyi turned to Changle:
“Changle, step aside. This is not a scene suitable for your eyes.”
Changle shook her head, holding her mother’s hand:
“Mother, I’m not afraid!”
In her past life, she had witnessed cruelty beyond measure.
Cuizhi, the daughter of Wu De, had once used her beauty and cunning to become Sui Jingxing’s maid concubine.
Back then, when her mother suffered injustice, that pair of father and daughter did nothing but harm her further.
Especially Cuizhi—mocking, domineering, her petty triumphs over Wen Shiyi’s suffering left a vivid scar on Changle’s memory.
Now, in this second life, the blood debt would begin with her very life.
Two older women bound Cuizhi to the long bench and raised thick wooden boards, striking her relentlessly.
“Ugh!”
Cuizhi groaned, struggling in vain.
With each blow, the color drained from her face, regret suffocating her heart.
The maids and servants watching the punishment fell silent, barely daring to breathe.
Wu De, witnessing the scene from the side, panicked and ran to the front courtyard to fetch reinforcements:
“Master, something terrible! Save her—please!”
Sui Jingxing, seeing him burst into the study, frowned in annoyance:
“Wu De, what is the matter, why such panic?”
Wu De, though loyal, could not hide his terror. His daughter’s life was at stake.
He struck himself across the face to steady his shaking hands:
“Master, please save Cuizhi! Madam is about to have her executed!”
“What?” Sui Jingxing was equally shocked, springing to his feet.
They rushed to the flower hall together—Cuizhi lay nearly lifeless on the bench, her body soaked in blood.
“Cuizhi…”
Wu De, heartbroken, stumbled forward, shoving the older women aside.
“Impudent! Dare you cause trouble in front of Madam? Bind him immediately!”
Wen Shiyi slammed her hand on the table, coldly commanding the household guards.
In moments, Wu De was securely bound, struggling in vain.
Wen Shiyi lowered her gaze, toying with her round fan. Her fingers tapped lightly on the redwood armrest, lips curling with frost-like cold:
“Continue. Strike her until she is dead, then dump her at the common graveyard.”
“Wait!”
Sui Jingxing stepped forward, his black silk robe sweeping the stone floor.
His sharp gaze swept over Cuizhi, tied to the bench, hair disheveled, lips smeared with blood, face pale and unconscious.
Fear gripped him—Cuizhi was Wu De’s only daughter.
If she died, Wu De might lose all loyalty to him.
Wu De had carried out countless illicit deeds for him, each one requiring total obedience.
If Cuizhi perished now, all that devotion would vanish instantly.
“Why is Madam so enraged?”
Sui Jingxing deliberately slowed his tone, then turned to the guards:
“Untie her immediately!”
Wen Shiyi, calm as ever, flicked her fan lazily, the inked peonies on the Xiangfei bamboo appearing and disappearing with the motion.
She raised her eyes, smiling with a cold edge:
“What do you intend? This girl stole my dowry and sold it—such a family traitor. Should I let her live?”
She abruptly snapped her fan down on the table, startling the tea.
“Do you mean to protect her?”
Sui Jingxing forced a smile, suppressing his rising anger:
“Madam, our household rules with benevolence. If a maid errs, a small punishment and expulsion suffices. This… display seems excessive.”
Wen Shiyi did not speak. A trace of mockery played on her lips, and she suddenly smiled:
“Very well. Since you plead for her, I shall grant that face.”
She rose slowly, taking Changle’s hand:
“This matter is now yours to handle. We shall leave.”
Cuizhi’s body was shattered; even if she survived, she would be a cripple.
Whether Wu De would bear resentment against Sui Jingxing, seeing his daughter incapacitated, remained uncertain.
Wen Shiyi left with Changle. Wu De crawled to Cuizhi’s side, trembling and unable to touch her.
Blood-soaked and smelling of iron, Cuizhi’s condition made Wu De dizzy.
Had he been patient before, everything might have turned out differently.
Madam had treated Cuizhi well; if only he had restrained his greed, he might have secured a safe future for her.
Now, all ruined by a moment of desire.
“Cuizhi… Cuizhi…”
Sui Jingxing, standing at a distance, spoke with lofty concern:
“Wu De, rest assured! I will summon the best physicians to care for her.”
Wu De, eyes full of despair and hatred, dared not act, forcing himself to nod:
“Thank you, Master. If she survives, I will serve you with my life.”
Sui Jingxing waved dismissively, secretly calculating how to pacify Wu De.
A young servant hurried over to whisper in his ear.
Sui Jingxing’s expression shifted slightly, then he told Wu De:
“Take Cuizhi home. The doctor will follow shortly.”
Wu De watched Sui Jingxing leave, hatred surging in his heart.
Cradling his barely-living daughter, he painfully made his way back, knowing even if she survived, she would never be the same.