Jinxiu Garden.
When Song Zhiyun saw Zhao Fu bringing Xiao Yujue back, her heart tightened. After having someone attend to Xiao Yujue and put him to bed, she signaled to her other personal maid, Ziyan, to reward Zhao Fu with a pouch.
Zhao Fu smiled gratefully and tucked it into his sleeve.
“Daye has been troubled these past few days, and this is the first time he’s been so drunk. I wonder if he offended Father?”
Zhao Fu’s eyes shifted. “Eldest Mistress worries too much. The Marquis merely ran into Daye on the way and, seeing him unsteady on his feet, ordered me to escort him back.”
A servant without discretion was no good servant. As for what happened in the cave, he would act as if he knew nothing.
Song Zhiyun chatted idly for a few more moments before waving him off.
Just as she was about to turn back to the inner chamber, she spotted Wan Tang returning from afar. A sudden surge of nameless anger rose in Song Zhiyun’s heart. She turned to Ziyan and said, “Where has she been hiding again? She has too much free time day after day—assign her more work!”
Xiao Yujue had been stealing glances at Wan Tang lately! That face truly disgusted her!
If not for the thought that she might need this face to help secure favor in the future when she became pregnant, she would have long since destroyed it.
After a cup of tea, just as Wan Tang was about to sleep, Ziyan came to her room. “You’re on duty tonight.”
Wan Tang frowned. “Isn’t it your turn tonight, Sister Ziyan?”
Ziyan rolled her eyes. She couldn’t very well say it was because Eldest Mistress disliked her, so she replied, “My stomach isn’t feeling well.”
Wan Tang fell silent for a moment. “Understood.”
It was always like this. Whether it was Song Zhiyun’s orders or their own laziness, the dirty and tiring work always fell to her. If she complained to Song Zhiyun, she would always be the one beaten or scolded.
Over time, Wan Tang learned not to ask too many questions—it spared her some suffering.
But she would remember every single instance, waiting for the right opportunity to repay them in the future.
Two days later, after Xiao Yujue and his wife paid their respects to the Old Marquis and Laofuren, Wan Tang returned to her room, her head heavy and her feet unsteady.
For the past three nights, Song Zhiyun had been making her stay up late embroidering round fans.
Embroidering round fans in such cold weather.
Taking advantage of their absence, Wan Tang collapsed onto her bed and fell asleep.
In her daze, she dreamed of the helplessness of being taken out of the mansion by Xiao Yujue in her past life, breaking out in a cold sweat from fear. Then the scene shifted—Xiao Zhi looked down at her from a lofty height. The promise he had once made, “I won’t treat you unfairly,” suddenly turned into: “A lowly servant dares to aspire so high?”
Wan Tang desperately tried to grab the hem of his robe, but Xiao Zhi walked away without a shred of mercy.
In the next moment, Song Zhiyun sneered coldly and ordered someone to drive ten bamboo splints under her fingernails. The piercing pain was unbearable, a torment worse than death.
“Wan Tang? Wan Tang? Wake up.”
The calling voice gradually grew clearer, pulling Wan Tang out of her nightmare.
Her chest heaved violently as she stared blankly at the person before her. Only when she spoke did she realize how hoarse her voice was. “Sister Mingyue?”
Seeing her pale face covered in fine sweat, Mingyue took out a handkerchief to wipe it for her. “How could you have such a nightmare without even crying out? You were just whimpering and sobbing, as if someone had choked you. What did you dream about to frighten you so?”
Wan Tang shook her head, her face still deathly pale. “Did Eldest Mistress call for me?”
Mingyue remembered the matter at hand. “It was Laofuren who sent someone to summon you. She didn’t say what it was about.”
Wan Tang’s heart sank. Not daring to delay for a moment, she quickly tidied herself up and hurried to Songhe Tang.
Anxious all the way, she pondered every possibility, finally settling on what had happened in the cave.
Xiao Yujue’s drunken words last night, accusing her of throwing herself at him, were heard by the Marquis and Zhao Fu. It was likely that other servants passing by had also overheard. If even one person reported those words to their masters, she would have no way to defend herself.
Who would believe her?
Daye had passed the Autumn Provincial Examination this year and become a Juren, and the Old Marquis was immensely proud of him, hoping he would make a remarkable achievement in next year’s Imperial Examination. Daye was also skilled at putting on a facade—kind, generous, and well-liked by everyone in the Houfu. Who wouldn’t praise him as a good master? If Daye insisted that she had seduced him first, no one would believe her.
Thinking back to Xiao Zhi’s indifference last night, Wan Tang’s heart sank.
It was her own fault for being too impatient. Now, no one would help her.
Perhaps the weather had turned colder again, or maybe it was the cold sweat from her nightmare earlier, but she felt a chill seeping into her bones.
“Come in.” The matron’s three emotionless words made Wan Tang tremble.