Inside, the entire hall had fallen into complete silence. The heavy wooden token resting in An Yimei’s hand suddenly seemed heavier than gold itself.
Zhao De’s face had turned deathly pale as all the authority and confidence he carried moments ago vanished instantly. The moment his eyes landed on the carved crest of the token, he recognized it immediately. It was real. Which meant the plain-looking young woman standing before them was not some troublesome guest they could casually throw out.
She was the true owner of the tea house.
Madame Zhao stared at the wooden token in absolute disbelief, still clutching her throbbing, swollen wrist tightly. "N-No..." she muttered, her voice trembling weakly. "That’s impossible..."
Beside her, Lin Xue’s spoiled, arrogant expression became even uglier. "What?" her sharp voice rose immediately, piercing the silence. "This tea house belongs to her?"
One of the wealthy young ladies standing behind Lin Xue whispered nervously, "I... I heard Master An prepared a few small shops as dowry for both his daughters..."
Lin Xue’s face stiffened at once.
Meanwhile, An Yimei calmly slipped the token back into her wide silk sleeve before lifting her eyes toward Zhao De. The entire atmosphere surrounding her had completely changed. Even the servants nearby unconsciously straightened their backs, holding their breath. No matter how low her standing might have been inside the An family estate, within the walls of this tea house, she was now their absolute master.
Zhao De hurriedly lowered his head, pressing his palms together in a deep bow. "T-This servant greets Young Miss!"
The workers behind him snapped out of their shock and quickly followed in a panic, bowing low. "This servant greets Young Miss!"
Even Qinqin stood frozen, looking utterly stunned by the sudden turn of events. Only moments ago, these same people had been preparing to drag her mistress out into the street like a beggar. Now, they barely dared to raise their eyes to look at her.
An Yimei’s calm gaze slowly swept across the quiet hall before finally landing on Madame Zhao. The woman’s face immediately turned ugly, but the shrill arrogance from earlier had completely vanished, replaced by sheer, suffocating unease.
An Yimei slowly walked toward her. Her steps were soft, almost silent, yet strangely oppressive in the quiet room.
Madame Zhao subconsciously stepped backward, her boots dragging against the floorboards. "You..." she started weakly.
An Yimei stopped directly in front of her, looking down at her softly. "Who exactly were you calling beggars earlier?"
Madame Zhao’s lips trembled violently. "I... I didn’t know Young Miss was the owner..."
"So if I had truly been poor," An Yimei asked, her tone flat and completely devoid of anger, "then insulting me would have been acceptable?"
Madame Zhao froze instantly.
The tea house became even quieter. No one dared to interrupt, breathe, or make a sound. An Yimei’s voice was not loud, yet somehow it pressured people far more than shouting ever could.
"You judged customers by their clothing," An Yimei continued calmly. "You mocked guests before even serving them. And just now, you nearly struck the owner of the tea house in public."
With every word that fell from her lips, the remaining color drained from Madame Zhao’s face.
Zhao De quickly lowered his head even deeper, almost touching the floor. "This servant failed to discipline his wife properly! Please forgive us, Young Miss!"
An Yimei finally turned her eyes toward him. "You manage this tea house, correct?"
"Yes..."
"Then tell me," she said softly, her gaze slowly sweeping over the nearly empty tables, "why is business declining?"
Zhao De stiffened immediately. He opened his mouth to offer an excuse, only to close it again a second later. Because deep down, he already knew the answer.
An Yimei calmly continued, "A tea house survives because customers feel welcomed." Her eyes shifted toward the nervous servants crouching nearby. "But here, the workers are afraid." She turned back to Madame Zhao. "And customers are insulted." Finally, she glanced toward the dusty cobwebs in the high corners and the sticky, unpolished tables. "And basic cleanliness has been ignored."
Even the few customers seated in the far corners quietly leaned in to listen, because every word she spoke was undeniably true.
Madame Zhao clenched her fists, her voice tight with unwilling resentment. "But business was fine before—"
"Before you started chasing customers away?" An Yimei interrupted gently.
Madame Zhao fell completely silent.
At that moment, Lin Xue suddenly scoffed loudly from the side, trying to break the heavy pressure in the room. "So what if the tea house belongs to you now?" she sneered, holding her head high. "You’re still just an illegitimate daughter marrying into some farming family."
Several girls standing behind her quickly nodded in agreement, finding their courage again. "That’s right, she’s acting so proud over one dying tea house."
Lin Xue crossed her arms, her gold bangles clanking together as she lifted her chin mockingly. "You think owning this place suddenly makes you important?"
Qinqin’s face instantly darkened with rage, her hands balling into fists. But unexpectedly, An Yimei smiled. It was only a small, faint tilt of her lips, yet it made Lin Xue feel strangely uneasy.
An Yimei slowly turned to face her. "You’re right," she said calmly. "I am indeed an illegitimate daughter."
Lin Xue blinked, clearly caught off guard by how easily she admitted it.
"And I am marrying into a farming family," An Yimei continued without a hint of embarrassment or shame. Then, her dark eyes slowly swept over Lin Xue’s expensive pearl hairpins and shimmering silk robes. "But at least this tea house belongs to me."
The room fell dead silent once more. Lin Xue’s mocking smile froze on her face.
An Yimei tilted her head slightly, her voice gentle and even. "You, on the other hand, still spend your father’s money while acting important over things you do not own."
Several nearby customers quickly lowered their heads to hide their amused smiles. Even a few servants looked as though they were desperately trying not to laugh out loud.
Lin Xue’s face flushed a deep, furious red. "You—!"
An Yimei interrupted her calmly, before she could throw a tantrum. "If your father cuts your allowance tomorrow, what exactly would still belong to you?"
Lin Xue froze completely. The answer was glaringly obvious. Nothing.
"So before mocking others, Young Miss Lin should first learn the difference between inherited wealth..." An Yimei paused slightly, her eyes glinting with a cold, sharp light, "...and personal ability."
The words landed like a heavy, direct slap across Lin Xue’s face. Her expression turned extremely ugly, while the girls standing behind her pulled back, no longer daring to laugh or speak carelessly.
Upstairs near the wooden railing, a young man in dark, luxurious robes quietly watched the entire scene unfold, a deep, intrigued light flashing in his dark eyes. This so-called useless, timid illegitimate daughter of the An family was far more dangerous than the rumors claimed.