Yun Zheng smiled faintly at everyone, slowly raising her hand to her forehead, then cried out theatrically: “Oh dear, I feel dizzy; I can’t stand—summon the physician quickly!”
Jiang Wenzhou’s act had been false; hers was even more so. She calmly walked to the seat of honor and sat down, leisurely brushing her sleeve. “I, the Yun daughter, was pampered since childhood, delicate and precious. A little shock makes me faint. Surely the Marquis household, being people of dignity, can understand?”
To have her bow with a servant and a rooster? The Jiang family must be mad!
“People of dignity?” Her words dripped with irony. Guests nearly burst out laughing; some couldn’t hold back.
She had ripped away the Marquis household’s face and ground it into the dirt. This Yun girl could not endure even the smallest loss. She was ruthless.
The household had known she was no easy prey, but they had not expected her to be so brazen.
Jiang Wenzhou trembled with rage, threatening darkly: “Yun girl, don’t go too far. Do you not want to live out your days?”
Yun Zheng shrieked in mock fear: “Is that a threat? Do you mean to kill me? Oh, how frightening!”
But fear was useless—they would never let her go.
“Let all present bear witness. If I should suddenly die, then…”
Marquis Pingxi’s face changed, and he shouted angrily: “Yun girl, mind your tongue! Do not forget, you are of the Yun family—your parents and kin still live.”
But Yun Zheng had already died once. She was fearless. Come then—let us all perish together.
“If I should suddenly die, the other half of my dowry will be given to Lord Qiansui, Prince Rui.”
A killing strike! One move to defeat the enemy! Her counterattack was as fierce as a storm. Like thunder exploding overhead, the words left everyone’s minds buzzing, the atmosphere instantly taut.
Marquis Pingxi’s vision went dark, his face drained of blood, lips trembling.
Disaster! How had she dragged this ominous figure into it? Lord Qiansui—the Emperor’s most beloved younger brother, the dynasty’s sole prince, a noble of supreme rank. Most crucially, he commanded the mighty Mingjing Division, the empire’s foremost intelligence bureau, overseeing all officials and wielding the power to arrest and interrogate. His authority was boundless. None dared offend him. Even the imperial princes behaved like meek kittens before him.
Lord Qin hesitated. “Why Prince Rui?”
Yun Zheng’s expression was calm, her lips curved faintly, her eyes blazing with reckless clarity. “Because only he can protect my family, isn’t that so? If Prince Rui shows mercy and investigates the cause of my death, then even in the underworld I will be grateful…”
Officials shield one another. None would risk offending the Pingxi household for the sake of a mere merchant’s daughter. But Prince Rui was a supreme royal noble—others feared him. He was a man of principle. He would not take half her dowry for nothing, nor allow her to die unjustly. If that time came, the Marquis household would face utter ruin.
The guests fell silent. She was a calm madwoman, wielding a strategy of mutual destruction.
Yet, given the Marquis household’s humiliation of her, driving her to such extremes, who could blame her for fighting to the death? Now, the Marquis household dared not secretly kill her. Instead, they would have to pamper her, coax her, keep her alive. If she died, half her dowry would fall into Prince Rui’s hands, and all their scheming would be wasted. Only her survival remained their hope. Remarkable—this was a brilliant move.
Marquis Pingxi’s mind went blank, terror flooding his heart. Yes, he had plotted to seize her wealth and life, calculating every detail. But Yun Zheng’s two decisions had destroyed years of planning. Not only had his schemes collapsed, but she had drawn the Emperor’s and Prince Rui’s attention.
With those two watching, how could he make any move? Would he dare oppose such towering figures? Did he think he had lived too long?
Outside the Marquis household, in a carriage, a voice of mild surprise spoke: “If she dies suddenly, her dowry goes to me?”
The subordinate answered softly: “Yes, my lord.”
Li Wuyang pondered briefly, then chuckled. “So she is certain I would act for silver’s sake?”
The subordinate glanced at him cautiously. “Then will you act?”
Li Wuyang gave no direct answer. As the curtain fell, a faint smile lingered on his lips. “Yun Zheng, daughter of the Yun family—you are no madwoman bent on mutual destruction. You are drawing me into your game. Very well. I shall see what it is you truly intend.”
Step by step, Yun Zheng calculated three moves ahead, maneuvering with precision, mastering hearts and minds. A daughter of the Yun family like this was worth ten sons.
Inside the wedding hall, Marquis Pingxi suddenly erupted, slapping Jiang Wenzhou hard. The crisp sound echoed through the hall.
Jiang Wenzhou’s pale face swelled red, the vivid handprint shocking to behold. Covering his face, humiliated and angry, he cried, “Father!”
“Husband!” the Marchioness protested.
But Marquis Pingxi pointed at his son and roared: “You worthless fool! Look at the mess you’ve made. A fine wedding turned upside down by you. Go and apologize to Yun Zheng immediately. If she refuses to forgive you, then you are no son of mine.”
He had seen clearly now—Yun Zheng was ruthless. She cared nothing for family honor, social rules, or household dignity. She was a madwoman—calm, but mad. Still, a woman’s greatest weakness was emotion. Control her through feelings!
Jiang Wenzhou’s heart sank. He instantly understood his father’s meaning and lowered his head. Forcing a smile, he bowed. “Yun Zheng, I was wrong. I lost my temper and acted foolishly. I apologize. Please forgive me this once.”
One had to admit, father and son knew when to bend—they were men fit for great schemes.
Yun Zheng raised her brows. “This isn’t the first time. How can I believe your apology is sincere?”
The words were hollow, the same tired phrases repeated again and again.
Jiang Wenzhou seethed inwardly, but kept his face composed. He bent his knees, making as if to kneel. “I will kneel before you.”
The household’s faces changed at once. Yun Zheng did not refuse—she watched coldly.
Jiang Wenzhou froze, caught between rising and kneeling, his face a swirl of colors like spilled paint.
Ye Yizhen seized the moment to intervene. “Absolutely not! Yun Zheng, Brother Jiang is your husband. How can you humiliate him in public?”
She always stepped on others to highlight her own supposed kindness and virtue.
Yun Zheng looked at her coolly. “Since when did the Marquis household fall under the command of someone surnamed Ye? Has the family name already changed to Ye?”
Ye Yizhen’s pupils shrank sharply. The Marchioness frowned and gave a signal. At once, an old matron stepped forward and struck—slap, slap.
Two blows left Ye Yizhen stunned, humiliated and furious, yet she dared not speak.
The Marchioness sighed softly. “She is a woman of fallen background, prone to jealousy and petty squabbles, unfit for the stage. Yun Zheng, do not lower yourself to her level.”
Yun Zheng observed it all, then laughed. This family was nothing but flatterers, trampling the weak and currying favor with the strong.
“But she is the elder sister-in-law of the Marquis household. According to your rules, I dare not disregard her.”
The more triumphant Ye Yizhen had been moments ago, the more pitiful she was now, tears brimming in her eyes.
Distressed, Jiang Wenzhou could no longer contain himself. He shouted: “Yun Zheng, I advise you to stop. Life is long!”
Yun Zheng blinked. “Another threat? You know, when I’m frightened, I lose control…”
Just then, a clear voice rang out suddenly: “So lively in here.”
Everyone turned toward the doorway. Then, as though struck by terror, they all stepped back several paces.
Marquis Pingxi’s pupils contracted violently, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
Yun Zheng looked on curiously. Who was it?