Outsiders couldn’t understand it; they merely assumed it was an aristocratic quirk bred from generations of immense wealth.
Even many of the Wei Family’s daughters didn’t understand what exactly these rules were guarding, or what was hidden behind the heavy curtains of their secluded boudoirs.
In the past, Ci’er hadn’t understood either.
Above her, she had her grandmother’s protection and her mother’s support; below, she had her older sister shielding her.
All she had to do was act spoiled and cause mischief.
She devoted all her attention to chasing after Xie Chen, loudly declaring all over the Capital City that she was going to marry him.
Like a heartless little madwoman, she had believed that all the joy in the world could be held firmly in her hands.
“Wei Yinzhao, don’t you want to avenge the Wei family?” Xie Yunjin’s voice dropped, his words barbed.
“Don’t you want to know the truth behind the extermination of the Wei family?
Don’t you want to fulfill your mother’s dying wish and restore the Wei family’s honor?”
“The murderer is your father.” Ci’er sneered, her eyes filled with icy hatred.
“Xie Pingzhang, the Prince of Nine Bestowments, is the one who destroyed the Wei family.
He is my enemy.”
“Back then, he was not yet the Prince of Nine Bestowments, nor was he the Regent.” Xie Yunjin lowered his eyes.
The slight, bone-chilling curve of his lips was unnerving.
“Even if he was the one who struck the blow, the person who handed him the knife might not have been him.”
“You are making excuses for him.”
“If I truly wanted to make excuses for him, I wouldn’t have risked my life to save you.”
Ci’er looked at him.
The lamplight in the mortuary was dim, casting his face in half-light and half-shadow.
He looked like a cleaved idol—half compassionate, half Asura.
“Is the Painted Skin Case related to the Wei family?”
“Of course,” Xie Yunjin’s voice fell.
“In the late years of the Tiansheng Dynasty, the old Emperor became obsessed with the Alchemy Technique and went completely mad.
Ignoring ancestral laws and the objections of his officials, he selected twelve daughters of the Imperial Family, flayed the skin from their backs alive, tanned them with a special liquid, and painted twelve maps.
Together, they were known as the Dragon Bone Prophecy.
Whoever obtains the maps can open the treasures of the underground palace, seize the Imperial Jade Seal, control the destiny of the world, and determine the rightful ruler of the realm…
“In other words, whoever obtains them becomes the legitimate True Dragon Emperor.
“Later, as dynasties changed and chaotic times overturned the world, all twelve prophecy maps were lost, their whereabouts a mystery.
For a century, countless ambitious men have gone mad for them, willing to squander their fortunes and tear their families apart…”
He paused, his gaze falling on Ci’er’s pale face.
“The Dragon Bone Prophecy was hidden in the Wei family.
It is a secret the Wei family has guarded for generations, never to be revealed to anyone.
And the blood of the Wei family’s legitimate daughters is called the thousand gold blood because it can awaken the prophecy and unlock the hidden secret texts within the maps…
This is also the root cause of your five-year imprisonment and the repeated drawing of your blood.”
“Second Master certainly knows a lot.”
“Do you know who betrayed the Wei family?”
“Who?” Ci’er looked at him coldly.
Her pale little face was somewhat blurry in the lamplight, but her eyes were blisteringly bright.
“Liu Tingyue.” Xie Yunjin curled his lips into a mocking smile.
“Your aunt, the current Consort of Nine-Bestowments Prince.”
The candle flame in the mortuary flickered, as if echoing the weight of those words.
“I guessed as much.”
Ci’er closed her eyes, as if she could see the scenes from those years once again…
Her father was Liu Shaohuai, from a declined branch of an aristocratic clan.
Not only did he possess outstanding literary talent, but he was also blessed with handsome looks.
He and her mother fell in love over a burner of blended incense, and he willingly married into the Wei family.
Meanwhile, her aunt, Liu Tingyue, born as an illegitimate daughter, became an inconspicuous concubine in Xie Pingzhang’s backyard and often visited the Wei family as a guest.
At that time, the late Emperor had not yet passed away, and Xie Pingzhang was still Marquis An Yuan.
Liu Tingyue was a few years younger than her mother.
She spoke in a soft, gentle voice and was very good at pleasing people.
Her mother always said that Tingyue, being of illegitimate birth, had a bitter lot in life, and so she always took extra care of her…
Ci’er was young then and didn’t understand these things.
She only felt that her aunt treated her well.
Every time she visited, she would bring her candied fruits and praise her for being pretty, saying she would definitely marry into a good family in the future.
During the spring when she was fifteen, the magnolias in the courtyard bloomed beautifully, but her mother no longer wore flowers in her hair.
Instead, she spent her nights burning incense in the ancestral hall until dawn.
Her father also seemed like a changed man, locking himself in his study all day and ignoring her even when she acted spoiled.
He was weighed down by heavy thoughts.
Her sister, who was two years older, broke ancestral rules and hastily arranged a marriage.
The groom’s family were distant cousins far away in Lingnan.
Her mother had said that although Lingnan was remote, the climate and environment were nourishing.
“Once you escort your sister there for her wedding, you won’t have to come back.”
“I’m not going to Lingnan.
Why does my sister have to marry someone so far away?
Mother, wouldn’t it be fine if we stayed in Luojing?
Brother Hengzhi still owes me an answer…”
Her mother didn’t scold her.
She just patted her head and said, “Zhaozhao, some things are more important than Brother Hengzhi.”
She hadn’t understood.
She only knew that Xie Chen was handsome, that his voice was pleasant to listen to, and that the tips of his ears would turn slightly red when she chased after him.
Those fragmented little thoughts were like spring willow catkins, flying all over the sky, impossible to catch.
That was until the day of her sister’s wedding.
Before the sky was even bright, her sister was pulled away to get dressed and made up.
Ci’er lingered in bed, refusing to get up, until her mother personally dragged her out and shoved a bundle into her arms.
“Hold onto this and don’t lose it.
Once you reach Lingnan, you must listen to your sister.”
The bundle was very heavy, and she didn’t know what was inside.
Ci’er wanted to ask, but her mother’s gaze made her swallow her words.
Her mother’s expression was wrong that day.
There was no joy of marrying off a daughter, only a solemnity she had never seen before—as if she were entrusting them with something, or perhaps saying goodbye.
She didn’t dare make a fuss anymore.
She obediently nodded and hugged the bundle to her chest.
When the bridal sedan chair arrived, her mother stood at the doorway, not shedding a single tear.
She was wearing her favorite pale lotus-colored jacket, her hair combed meticulously, looking just as dignified as any other day.
Her father stood behind her, one hand resting on her mother’s shoulder, his knuckles white.
Watching the bridal sedan swaying as it was set down, Ci’er suddenly felt an empty space in her heart.
She sniffled and looked up.
The Wei family’s plaque hung quietly in the morning light, like an old painting soaked in water.
“Mother, when are we coming back?”
She never received her mother’s answer.
Instead, the sound of galloping hooves erupted like thunder, shattering the tranquility of the early morning.
It shattered her carefree, girlish dreams and the Wei family’s two-hundred-and-seventy-year foundation…