Zhao Yuanjiang’s face had been grim ever since Zhao Qihuang entered. Now, seeing Lin Wangshu put on such a pitiful display, his expression darkened further. He couldn’t help but slam his hand on the armrest and curse, “Zhao Qihuang, do you have any sense of propriety left? She is your mother! How can you speak so insolently and openly defy her?”
Zhao Qihuang suppressed the tears in her eyes and spoke mockingly, “Father keeps calling her my mother, but the moment my birth mother died, she packed me off to the countryside. She never nurtured me for a single day. You demand I call her mother—does she truly deserve that title?”
Her father’s expression stiffened. Seeing that he couldn’t win the argument, he quickly changed the subject: “I think your Third Uncle was right. You are far too spoiled and arrogant. It’s high time you learned some proper decorum.”
Zhao Qihuang had long since abandoned any expectation of this father; nothing he said could surprise her.
Just then, Zhou Yuhu hurried in, holding a booklet. Zhao Yuanjiang looked at Zhao Qihuang and stated directly, “For contradicting the mistress and disrespecting your elders, you are punished to kneel in the ancestral hall and copy the *Lessons for Women* one hundred times. You will not be released until you recognize your mistakes.”
Her father showed little expression, tacitly approving her Third Uncle’s words. Zhou Yuhu slammed the yellowed, curling copy of the *Lessons for Women* onto the table in front of Zhao Qihuang with a loud *smack*. The force was considerable, clearly intended as a humiliation.
Zhao Qihuang lowered her eyes, her gaze falling on the ancient book. The characters for *Lessons for Women* on the cover were written in a neat hand, yet they exuded a stifling, rotten air of decay. She stretched out a slender, fair finger and lightly picked up the *Lessons for Women*, her thumb tracing the rough cover. Then she looked up at the Old Madame, who sat silently in the seat of honor.
“Grandmother,” she asked, her voice clear and cool, “do you truly believe Qihuang should copy this book?”
The Old Madame opened her mouth, her cloudy eyes shifting, settling on Zhao Qihuang with a complicated gaze. She was deeply concerned about Zhao Qihuang’s *fate* being linked to that of her eldest daughter—the current Empress. The Old Madame was racked with indecision and found herself momentarily speechless.
Lin Wangshu, who had been playing the role of the virtuous mistress, saw the Old Madame’s hesitation and a flicker of displeasure crossed her eyes. She quickly rose, went to the Old Madame’s side to refill her tea, and said worriedly, “Mother, Marquis, in my opinion, let’s just forget it.”
Lin Wangshu deliberately frowned in distress and whispered, “Qihuang is just young and a little impatient. In a few days, the palace is holding the Spring Flower Banquet, where all the noble young ladies will compete in skills. If Qihuang is locked in the ancestral hall now, it will not only harm her health but also delay her preparations. If she performs poorly at the banquet, it will be our Yongan Marquis Manor that loses face.”
Her words sounded like a plea for Zhao Qihuang, but they were actually laced with hidden barbs. Who didn’t know that Zhao Qihuang was clueless about the four arts—the zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting? No matter how much she prepared, she was bound to “perform poorly” at the Spring Flower Banquet and disgrace the Marquis Manor.
Hearing this, Zhao Yuanjiang predictably let out a sneer. “Ha, preparations?” He eyed Zhao Qihuang dismissively, his face full of contempt, and mocked her bluntly: “She’s just a flowery pillow—a useless idiot who looks good but serves no purpose.”
“Zither, chess, calligraphy, painting, poetry, or prose—tell me, which one can Zhao Qihuang actually manage? Which one does she excel at?”
“Letting her attend the Spring Flower Banquet to compete in skills?” Zhao Yuanjiang’s voice rose, thick with disdain. “Isn’t that just sending her out specifically to humiliate our Manor?” He grew angrier as he spoke and turned to the Old Madame: “Mother, in my opinion, it is better to lock her in the ancestral hall for two days to reflect properly. That way, she won’t go out and cause a scene, blackening the name of the Yongan Marquis Manor. What kind of Commandery Princess is she? A useless piece of trash who has nothing but her title!”
Zhao Yuanjiang was spitting mad, devaluing Zhao Qihuang completely. Lin Wangshu lowered her eyelids, a faint, fleeting smile curving her lips. Third Branch truly made an excellent target sometimes.
After Zhao Yuanjiang finished, everyone looked simultaneously at the Old Madame, waiting for her command.
“Ahem, ahem…” The Old Madame coughed softly twice, her cloudy gaze sweeping over everyone’s faces before finally settling on Zhao Qihuang’s still-expressionless face. After a moment of thought, she spoke in a deliberately gentle, persuasive tone: “Huang’er, what you did this time truly was a bit much.”
“Grand Tutor Liu’s granddaughter is, after all, a noble young lady. Even if you dislike her, you cannot simply throw her out like that. If word gets out, it will damage your reputation, and it will harm our Manor as well.” Zhao Qihuang remained silent, waiting for the Old Madame’s next words.
The Old Madame paused, then continued, “As for the Spring Flower Banquet… I know you have never liked such gatherings; you find them confining and dull. Since that is the case, why don’t you stay in the ancestral hall for two days? It will be quiet and clean, and it will serve as an explanation to the Grand Tutor’s Estate.”
At these words, Zhao Yuanjiang and Zhou Yuhu finally looked pleased. A hint of satisfaction flashed in Lin Wangshu’s eyes as well.
However, the Old Madame’s next sentence froze their smiles. “As for the *Lessons for Women*,” the Old Madame waved her hand, “there is no need to copy it.”
“Huang’er is a Commandery Princess, after all, with a noble status. Copying such things would only diminish her standing for no reason.”
“What?!” Zhao Yuanjiang nearly leaped up. “Mother! How can she not copy it? She…”
“Enough!” The Old Madame’s face darkened, and she slammed her cane onto the floor with a dull *thud*. “The greater good comes first!”
She turned away, ignoring Zhao Yuanjiang’s ashen face, and instructed the supervising matron standing beside her: “Matron Wan.”
“This servant is here,” replied a respectful matron around fifty years old, stepping forward.
“Go and tidy up the ancestral hall thoroughly,” the Old Madame said slowly. “Arrange it according to the Commandery Princess’s usual preferences.”
“Ah?” Matron Wan froze, thinking she had misheard. An ancestral hall—could it be decorated according to personal preferences?
“Remember,” the Old Madame emphasized, “cakes and fruit, nothing must be missing, and prepare only the best. Also, find her a few currently popular storybooks, so the Commandery Princess doesn’t get bored alone inside.”
“Yes, Old Madame.” Matron Wan suppressed her shock and replied respectfully.
Upon hearing this, Zhao Yuanjiang’s face turned green, and he opened his mouth, unable to squeeze out a single word for a long time. This was confinement? This was punishment in the ancestral hall? This was clearly sending her somewhere else to enjoy herself!
Zhou Yuhu was equally incredulous, her mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg. They were new to the capital, and they hadn’t expected the Old Madame to favor Zhao Qihuang so openly.
Only a faint, nearly imperceptible sneer flashed in Zhao Qihuang’s eyes. This move by the Old Madame appeared to be favoritism, but in reality, it was just a calculation of benefits—it gave the Grand Tutor’s Estate “face” without truly offending her, the “lucky star” whose *fate* was linked to the Empress. What a clever calculation.