Nanny Ji had lived in the deep palace—what kind of people had she not seen?
“Though the wedding rites were performed, there has been no family recognition, no ancestral hall worship, no entry into the genealogy. The process is incomplete. Miss Yun is not yet truly the Marquis household’s young madam.”
“For the Marchioness to demand kneeling in the ancestral hall right away is against propriety and sentiment. Those who know will think you muddled, blinded by lard; those who don’t will think you are deliberately retaliating, narrow‑minded.”
The Marchioness’s face turned iron blue. She opened her mouth but found no rebuttal.
Nanny Ji was not wrong—her words were reasonable, rooted in ritual law, flawless anywhere.
Marquis Pingxi sighed silently. In just one night, Yun Zheng had won over the palace matrons. Truly formidable.
Seeing brute force fail, the only path was slow probing, testing her limits step by step. Everyone had weaknesses.
“Enough. Begin the family recognition.”
The Marchioness’s eyes shifted, a new idea forming. “By custom, Zhen’er is the eldest daughter‑in‑law of the main branch. She goes first.”
Ye Yizhen’s heart leaped with joy, though her face remained gentle and dignified. “Yes.”
The two stood side by side before the Marquis couple—one graceful, one handsome—a fine match. Yet Marquis Pingxi felt uneasy, troubled beyond words. He had not slept the night before, pondering endlessly. His only wish was to control Yun Zheng firmly, without offending the palace or Lord Qiansui, and make her contribute selflessly to the Marquis household.
But with Ye Yizhen present, the difficulty was immense.
Jiang Wenzhou stood to salute, while Ye Yizhen knelt with a thud before the Marquis couple, offering tea with both hands. “Please, Father and Mother, drink tea.”
Marquis Pingxi accepted the cup, drank, and did not make things difficult, giving her a red envelope.
The Marchioness drank her tea, smiling as she presented a fine jade pendant. “This is our household’s heirloom, given only to the eldest daughter‑in‑law. Keep it well, and bear us many lovely grandchildren.”
She elevated Ye Yizhen only to suppress Yun Zheng. Yun Zheng was too proud—unless her bones were broken one by one, she would never meekly serve the Marquis household. She cared nothing for distinctions between main and secondary branches. Even if both were married in, she feared no gossip.
Ye Yizhen lowered her gaze, though inwardly she was brimming with pride. As long as she bore the eldest grandson, the Pingxi household would be hers. “Yes, Mother.”
She also presented shoes and socks she had sewn herself. The Marquis couple praised her endlessly, lauding her as virtuous and capable.
Jiang Wenzhou received a sachet embroidered with mandarin ducks playing in the water, and she was overjoyed. “This design is intricate, even double‑sided embroidery. You must have spent much effort. I truly like it.”
Ye Yizhen’s eyes brimmed with affection, her voice shy. “I stitched for several nights. As long as you like it, everything is worth it.”
None of the clan relatives made things difficult for her. Each gave gifts, and Ye Yizhen returned them: calligraphy supplies for the elders, a writing brush for the younger men, handkerchiefs for the women.
The atmosphere was harmonious, everyone praising Ye Yizhen, deliberately ignoring Yun Zheng as if she did not exist.
When Marquis Pingxi judged the moment ripe, he spoke. “Next, it is the turn of the second branch’s daughter‑in‑law. Yun Zheng, you…”
Turning his head, he saw Yun Zheng seated comfortably in a corner, sipping fragrant tea, smiling as if watching a play—utterly at ease.
Embarrassment? Nonexistent.
The crowd felt as though they had struck cotton with a heavy fist, unsettled and frustrated.
The Marchioness raised her brows sharply. “Yun Zheng, it is your turn to serve tea.”
Yun Zheng rose slowly, walked unhurriedly to stand before the Marquis couple—right beside Ye Yizhen.
Ye Yizhen’s beauty was delicate and ethereal, her temperament soft, her plain clothes usually enhancing her fairy‑like aura. But now, in dark red garments, the effect was diminished. Meanwhile, Yun Zheng’s features were radiant and commanding. Her blazing red robes made Ye Yizhen seem dim, like a mere backdrop.
Ye Yizhen’s face shifted slightly. Without showing it, she moved to stand on Jiang Wenzhou’s other side.
Yun Zheng’s lips curved faintly. She extended her hand calmly. “Tea.”
Nanny Ji carried the tray forward. Yun Zheng lifted a cup and offered it.
“Marquis, please drink tea.”
She did not kneel!
The Marchioness shouted angrily. “Kneel!”
But Yun Zheng had no intention of bowing to those disgusting old people. In truth, she didn’t even want to serve tea—but with the Emperor, Empress, and the entire court watching, she had to hold the moral high ground, leaving no handle for criticism.
After all, the Yun family stood behind her.
“Marquis, forgive me. Your household is too harsh. You denied me breakfast; my stomach is empty, my vision darkens—I cannot kneel.”
The Marchioness flared with rage. “Missing one meal won’t kill you. Kneel!”
Yun Zheng did not argue. She made as if to kneel, but her body swayed and slowly collapsed. Chunhua rushed forward, caught her, and cried out loudly. “Something’s wrong! The Marquis household has killed someone!”
Her eyes burned red with fury. “If my mistress suffers any harm, I will petition the throne, accuse the Pingxi household of driving their daughter‑in‑law to death, of treating human life like grass.”
The hall fell silent, utterly still. The Yun girl did not play by the rules.
Jiang Wenzhou nearly spat blood. “Absurd! Utter nonsense!”
The Marchioness was furious. “Nanny Ji, you saw it yourself. Yun is making trouble, shamelessly playing the rogue. Please speak the truth before the Emperor and Empress.”
Nanny Ji’s expression was grave, her tone solemn. “Yes. I saw with my own eyes: Marquis Pingxi covets his daughter‑in‑law’s dowry, bullying the weak, oppressing the small.”
Everyone stared in disbelief. What nonsense are you saying?
Jiang Wenzhou, young and hot‑blooded, could not bear the insult. “You’re blind! Clearly it was she—”
Nanny Ji’s gaze chilled. “Heir, I thought you were a good man. But you lack restraint, lack dignity, bullying a weak woman. It is the world that must be blind.”
The words seemed light, but their damage was immense.
A weak woman? Jiang Wenzhou laughed bitterly in rage.
The Marchioness’s chest tightened. “Nanny Ji, you’ve been bought by Yun! Believe me, I’ll go to the palace and tell the Empress myself.”
She thought this would frighten Nanny Ji. But Nanny Ji was utterly unafraid. “Marchioness, the palace is not a place you enter at will. The Empress is wise—she will not listen to one side, nor become a blade in your hand.”
No wonder she came from the deep palace—her words were sharp without a single vulgarity, yet struck straight at the heart.
A knife? To make the Empress the Marchioness’s knife? If such words spread, someone would suffer greatly.
Marquis Pingxi, sensing danger, stepped forward quickly. “Enough. Speak properly.”
“Yun Zheng, if your health is poor, then don’t kneel. Just bring the tea—I’ll drink.”
Only then did Yun Zheng slowly straighten, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve, calm and composed enough to make others grind their teeth. She knew how to provoke.
Marquis Pingxi readily accepted the cup, drank, and gave her a red envelope.
But when it came to the Marchioness, Yun Zheng extended the cup. The Marchioness’s eyes flickered—she feigned taking it, but her hand shifted, as if unsteady, sending hot tea spilling toward Yun Zheng’s face.
Ye Yizhen’s eyes lit with excitement. Perfect! Ruin that overly beautiful face!
Just as Yun Zheng’s features seemed about to be destroyed, she acted—pulling Jiang Wenzhou forward with force.
“Ahhh!” Jiang Wenzhou screamed, scalded head to toe, droplets burning his handsome face. Pain! Why was he the one injured again?!
Yun Zheng’s lips curved faintly. The mother sins, the son suffers. No problem.
Round Two: Yun Zheng versus the Pingxi household—complete victory.
A furious roar erupted. “Yun Zheng! Do you still want to be entered into our Jiang family’s genealogy?!”
It was the Marchioness, eyes blood‑red, like a tiger ready to devour.
Genealogy?*Yun Zheng’s face changed, a surge of violent anger rising within her.