Yang Wenting’s eyes were wide with fury, as if flames were about to burst out of them. She shouted loudly, “Yang Mian, you unfilial daughter! Are you trying to anger me to death? Today I’m going to beat you to death!”
With that, she grabbed a feather duster from somewhere and charged toward Yang Mian aggressively. The duster whistled through the air, each swing echoing with the rage in her heart.
Yang Mian stood still, her gaze filled with a trace of despair and cold indifference. She didn’t dodge—she took the blow head-on.
The feather duster struck her body with a sharp crack, yet her face showed no trace of pain, as if her body could no longer feel it.
Slowly, Yang Mian raised her head and looked at the “family bond line” between her and Yang Wenting, a deep sadness filling her heart.
She saw that the line of familial affection had already faded by another 30%. In just one day, what had once been a deep bond had already been cut in half.
Yang Mian let out a cold laugh in her heart: Yang Wenting, you really are something!
That strike from the feather duster suddenly felt worth it—at least it made her see this so-called mother more clearly.
“Mom, I am your biological daughter. You’ve repeatedly beaten and scolded me for the sake of someone else’s daughter. Don’t you feel even a bit of guilt?” Yang Mian’s voice trembled slightly, carrying the accumulated grievance and anger of the original body.
But Yang Wenting didn’t care at all. She retorted loudly, “What someone else’s daughter? I told you, Yang Huan may not have come from my womb, but I raised her myself. She’s even closer than a biological daughter!”
Pain flashed in Yang Mian’s eyes. “Then what about me? Am I not your daughter? Am I that unimportant to you?”
Yang Wenting frowned. “You—if you can just get along with Huan Huan, then we’re a family.”
A bitter smile appeared on Yang Mian’s lips. She said coldly, “So if I don’t get along with her, then this family will have only one of us—either me or her?”
Yang Wenting’s eyes widened in shock. She shouted, “How can you not tolerate your sister like this?! She’s been living in luxury since she was a child—if you force her to leave the Yang family, how is she supposed to survive? How can your heart be so vicious?”
Hearing this, the anger in Yang Mian could no longer be restrained. She said loudly, “She has hands and feet—why would she starve to death? I didn’t grow up in luxury either, and I still made it to eighteen. I can clean, work, and earn money. Why is it suddenly impossible for her? Aren’t you being way too biased?”
In her heart, Yang Mian sneered: As expected, a blind and foolish mother. Good thing I’m planning to sever ties, otherwise dealing with her every day would drive my cultivation level down from sheer anger.
“How can you compare yourself to Huan Huan?” Yang Wenting said disdainfully. “Huan Huan has been learning singing, dancing, and piano since she was young. Her hands are meant for art, not for dirty housework like cleaning.”
She even rolled her eyes at Yang Mian after speaking.
Rage surged in Yang Mian’s heart. She couldn’t help but retort, “Heh! What a hypocrite!”
At that moment, Yang Wencheng, standing nearby, was furious that Yang Mian dared to insult his mother and talk back. He immediately pointed at her and shouted, “Yang Mian! Look at yourself—no manners at all! You even dare insult your own mother? You’ve really gone too far!”
But Yang Mian showed no intention of backing down. She straightened her back and replied firmly, “My manners were taught by her. If I have no manners, then it’s her fault!”
As she spoke, she pointed toward the silent maid Qingxiang standing beside Yang Huan.
When Yang Wencheng followed her gaze and saw Qingxiang, the words of reprimand that had reached his lips suddenly got stuck and were swallowed back down.
Although Qingxiang was about the same age as Yang Wencheng, there was an unspoken intimate relationship between them.
Privately, she was the woman who understood his thoughts best.
How could he bear to scold such a gentle and understanding woman?
“Oh? Not willing to scold her anymore?” Yang Mian raised her lips slightly, a mocking smile in her eyes as she looked at Yang Wencheng.
She thought to herself: That little scheme of his—how could it escape my eyes?
She had already seen through all of Yang Wencheng’s dirty secrets.
This scumbag had a wife at home, yet still couldn’t restrain himself—he was fooling around with the maid and even ended up with a child: Yang Huan.
Not only that, he didn’t just have one affair.
He secretly kept several mistresses outside—third, fourth, even fifth. Wherever he went, he left a trail of romantic entanglements.
This morning, he didn’t even go to a company meeting. Instead, he went to please his “fifth.”
The reason was simple: that woman was pregnant with a son of the Yang family.
And Yang Mian knew all of it very clearly.
At that moment, Qingxiang, standing nearby, turned pale. Cold sweat formed on her forehead.
Clutching her clothes tightly, her eyes darted around nervously as she stammered, “W-What do you mean ‘not willing’? Yang Mian, don’t talk nonsense here and make Madam misunderstand.”
Clearly, she was already panicking—anyone with a guilty conscience would be uneasy, afraid their secrets would be exposed.
But how could Yang Mian let them off so easily?
She sneered and raised her voice. “Misunderstand what? Misunderstand that you’re having an affair with the sugar daddy?”
Those words made Yang Wencheng feel as if a hammer had struck his chest. His blood surged instantly, pain twisting through his heart.
He glared at her furiously and shouted, “Yang Mian! You’re asking for a beating! How can you say such nonsense?!”
Yang Mian shot him a fearless glare. “Whether it’s nonsense or not, you all know it best!”
She lifted her chin provocatively.
Yang Wenting, hearing their argument, began to look suspiciously between her husband and the maid.
Her eyes were filled with doubt and suspicion, as if trying to see through their very souls, searching for even the slightest trace of impropriety in their expressions, movements, or even breathing.
At that moment, Qingxiang panicked. She hurried forward, waving her hands repeatedly as she explained to Yang Wenting, “Madam, don’t listen to Yang Mian’s nonsense! She’s just trying to sow discord between us and shift attention away from the real issue! Besides, I have a husband—how could I ever do something so shameless?”
Her face wore an expression of utter grievance.