Song Yiqiu's bedchamber was thick with the pungent scent of wound-healing ointment.
Baimei carefully applied medicine to the lash marks on Song Yiqiu's back, her heart growing heavier as she discovered embedded thorns in some wounds. Unable to contain her indignation, she muttered through clenched teeth:
"That wretched old woman! How vicious her hands are—she never bothers to distinguish right from wrong!"
"And that Second Young Miss! Her mouth seems made for nothing but sowing discord and stirring trouble. What a waste she didn't become an opera singer!"
"But the most infuriating is that Song Sanchun! After you kindly helped her out of trouble and even bought her paintings, she runs off faster than a rabbit at the first sign of danger! Ungrateful wretch!"
Her curses spilled forth even as her hands remained exceptionally gentle.
"I simply don't understand, Young Miss. You clearly could have dodged that first strike—why did you take it head-on? If Qingzhu hadn't been quick-witted today and taken the second blow for you, those two vine strikes would have cost you half your life! You'd be bedridden for three or four months!"
Song Yiqiu lay prone on the couch, her face pale.
She was turned sideways, attentively applying medicine to the wounds on Qingzhu's buttocks and thighs—the maid lay on a neighboring couch.
Though Qingzhu's injuries were substantial, they fortunately avoided vital areas like the back.
Hearing Baimei's words, Song Yiqiu replied calmly:
"Baimei, I had to endure that family punishment."
Baimei paused her ministrations, confusion written across her face:
"Why? Since when must one willingly accept a beating?"
A faint smile touched Song Yiqiu's lips, but she didn't answer immediately. Instead, she turned to Qingzhu with a tone of reproach:
"Qingzhu, you were too impulsive today. I could have withstood that second strike. Thank goodness Mother hit your buttocks and legs—if you'd taken it on the back like me, your internal organs might have been seriously injured."
Qingzhu managed a weak smile through her pain, her eyes clear and lucid:
"Young Miss, in that situation, only my 'mad' pounce was appropriate. If Sister Baimei had intervened, it would've been deemed insubordination—punishable by greater penalty."
"With Madame in such a rage, if I hadn't taken a hit and pretended to be dead—escalating the situation to frighten her with the prospect of actual death—how would she have stopped? You might truly have been beaten to death…"
Baimei listened, both terrified by the recollection and impressed, her gaze toward Qingzhu shifting markedly:
"Qingzhu! Well done! I underestimated you—in a crisis, you truly have the mettle of our General's forces!!"
After a pause, she couldn't help grumbling again,
"But I still don't get it… Is Madame… really your birth mother? How could any parent in this world beat their own child to death?"
Song Yiqiu's eyes dimmed—she'd asked herself that same question countless times. A bitter smile touched her lips:
"Perhaps… there truly are parents in this world who don't love their children."
She looked at Baimei, then at Qingzhu, and clasped both their hands,
"But it doesn't matter. Having you two is enough."
Just then, a soft knock sounded at the door, accompanied by Song Shenshi's hypocritical voice:
"Yi Qiu~ Are you in there? Mother has come to see you."
Qingzhu started, instinctively trying to hide:
"Madame?"
Baimei instantly flared up:
"Ha! This fiery temper of mine! How dare she show her face? Playing the compassionate act after beating someone?"
But Song Yiqiu signaled Qingzhu to stay still, whispering quickly:
"Qingzhu, lie still and don't make a sound. We'll handle what's outside."
While having Baimei quickly help her into a loose outer robe—deliberately exposing the gruesome wound on her back—she said to Baimei,
"Baimei, weren't you wondering why I chose to endure that strike?"
She let out a cold laugh:
"The answer has come knocking at our door."
Feigning weakness, she lay back on the chaise lounge and instructed Baimei:
"Go open the door. Invite Mother in."
Suppressing her anger, Baimei opened the door with a stern expression.
As expected, Song Shenshi outside had adopted a benevolent maternal demeanor, holding a tray with two bowls of glistening bird's nest soup. She entered, placing the soup on the small table beside the couch, and said in a gentle tone:
"Yi Qiu~ Didn't you mention wanting bird's nest soup last time? Mother specially had someone prepare top-quality blood nest for you. Look, even your younger sister didn't get any—I prioritized this batch for you. You can have as much as you want from now on."
Without even lifting her eyelids, Song Yiqiu replied coldly:
"What does Mother mean by this? Hitting me first and then offering a sweet date?"
Song Shenshi's smile froze for a moment before she forced it back. "You silly girl, still holding a grudge against Mother?" she chided playfully,
She stepped forward to take Song Yiqiu's hand, but Song Yiqiu subtly avoided her touch.
Embarrassed, she withdrew her hand and sighed:
"Yi Qiu, with so many people watching in the ancestral hall today, you openly defied me in front of the servants. If I hadn't been firm, how could I maintain authority in the Song household?"
"I never thought you'd be so stubborn. You were so clever as a child, but now that you're grown… why didn't you even try to dodge? Ultimately…"
Song Yiqiu sneered inwardly:
Using your own daughter to establish authority, yet blaming her for not avoiding the strike? What impeccable logic.
Song Shenshi's gaze fell upon Song Yiqiu's completely unbandaged, still-bleeding wound on her back. She squinted as if unable to bear the sight and deliberately adopted a pained tone:
"Yi Qiu… this injury of yours…"
Baimei interjected coldly from the side, her tone rigid:
"Thanks to Madam's generosity, the physician said the young mistress has injured muscles and bones. She likely won't be able to leave her bed for half a year. And this scar… will definitely remain."
Song Shenshi immediately scowled and rebuked:
"Where did this wild girl come from? How dare you speak to me like that!"
Song Yiqiu said calmly:
"Did Mother come specifically today to discipline my servants? That won't be necessary. I can manage my own people."
Stung by the retort, Song Shenshi quickly donned her loving mask again, even snatching the gauze from Baimei's hands and pretending she would personally bandage Song Yiqiu's wound:
"Oh, Yi Qiu~ You're still angry with Mother, aren't you? Mother only wants what's best for you… Here, let me apply medicine for you…"
Fumbling clumsily with exaggerated movements, she pretended to accidentally tug at Song Yiqiu's outer robe.
Wanting to verify if the injury was truly that severe, Song Yiqiu twisted slightly with her motion.
The loose outer robe slipped down, revealing her entire back. Besides the fresh, gruesome wound, there were countless crisscrossing old scars of varying depths.
These were the marks left by seven years of bloody battles on the frontier.
Song Shenshi's movements abruptly halted. Her eyes fixed on those scars, her complexion instantly turning complex. Her lips trembled as she murmured:
"…These… these…"
Song Yiqiu tilted her head, observing her mother's shocked expression as if seeing it for the first time, and found it utterly ironic and laughable.
"What's wrong, Mother? Isn't this exactly the 'good life' you said your daughter was living in the borderlands?"
Song Shenshi nervously averted her gaze, her eyes shifting uncomfortably as her tone became somewhat strained:
"Yi Qiu… Mother knows you still resent me… But going to the borderlands was decided by drawing lots back then. How could I, just because you're a girl, make your brothers bear your fate instead?"
"All you children are equal in your mother's heart. If you must blame anyone… you can only blame your unfortunate destiny…"