Chapter 87: The Solitary Clarity of Fate

Just now, Jia Cong’s words had stirred public outrage in Rongqing Hall; apart from Lady Wang, no one would stand by her side.

The atmosphere in Rongqing Hall was suffocatingly tense, as if frozen solid; all saw that Madame Zhang had lost her composure, desperate to find a crack in the floor to crawl into.

Jia Cong merely watched coldly, waiting for Madame Zhang to reply—ideally, that she would lose control and cause a scene right there in the hall.

Let her destroy the face of both the Wang and Jia families, so the Jia clan’s generations of influence and patronage wouldn’t be slowly devoured by outsiders.

Lady Wang’s heart churned within her—this Cong-er had studied outside for two years; how had he become so sharp-tongued?

She recalled how he’d handled Wang Shanbao’s wife back in the Eastern Courtyard; this boy’s nature had long been suppressed, only never fully revealed before.

She was my own sister-in-law, yet his words showed not an ounce of mercy—how could Master Jia have always favored and supported him so? She felt a surge of resentment toward Jia Cong.

Her own sister-in-law was utterly without tact, provoking him out of nowhere and bringing shame upon herself.

Lady Wang could no longer maintain her composure; if this continued, her sister-in-law would surely be driven mad by this boy, and once things spiraled out of control, they’d be impossible to contain.

With just a few words, he had slapped that detestable Wang woman across the face, showing not the slightest mercy—if this boy stayed any longer, he’d truly drive her to slam her head against the wall.

She brushed her sleeves and left Rongqing Hall, exuding a casual air of having finished her task.

He had achieved the result he wanted; there was no need to pursue it to the bitter end. Many things must be stopped at the right moment—excess is worse than deficiency.

He turned to Jia Mu and said: “Grandmother, I’ve been away from the mansion for a long time; just now, I paid my respects to Elder Master Jia and Second Brother Lian in the Eastern Residence.”

Moreover, there’s Master Jia Zheng’s favor to consider—among all the elders of the Jia household, Jia Zheng truly holds him in his heart, and Jia Cong has always remembered it.

From now on, whether within the Jia family or in marriage alliances with outside clans, no one will dare lightly bring up his humble origins.

But Madame Wang-Zhang’s face has been utterly shattered within the Jia household—she can’t pick it up again, and she deserves it.

I’ll go now to visit Second Sister in the garden; I won’t disturb the elders any longer.”

So he at least maintained proper formalities toward Lady Wang.

He didn’t know whether Madame Wang-Zhang’s outburst today had been instigated by Lady Wang; since the matter hadn’t been exposed, he had no interest in digging deeper.

Jia Cong bowed respectfully: “I see. Thank you, Madam, for the reminder.”

Today’s outburst, along with Jia Mu’s reaction to the matter, had been clearly observed by all.

Yet to rebuke Jia Cong outright would have been too obvious, and even then, Jia Cong hadn’t committed any glaring fault.

Jia Cong bowed to Jia Mu and Lady Wang, then didn’t even glance at Madame Wang-Zhang, whose face had turned purple and who was trembling with rage.

The slender, lovely girl beneath Jia Mu’s care watched Jia Cong’s departing figure, her bright eyes turning, and said: “Grandmother, I’ll go see my sisters in the garden too—it’s been many days since we last met.”

Jia Lian, Yingchun, and Jia Cong are all siblings of the same father; it was only proper for him to pay respects to his elder brother and sister upon returning home—Jia Mu naturally had no objection.

With Lady Wang’s words, the suffocating tension in Rongqing Hall slowly eased.

Seeing him leave, Jia Mu even sighed in relief; over these two years, this troublemaker’s nature hadn’t changed one bit—it had only grown worse, and the thought gave her a headache.

Moreover, the old lady was still seated; she valued the Jia family’s dignity above all, and her sister-in-law’s words just now had already offended the old lady’s sensibilities.

The mess caused by the Wang family had now been settled—the Jia family’s daughter-in-law, a Wang girl, had spoken, and the matter was officially closed.

She could only grit her teeth and say: “Cong-er, don’t take it to heart—your Wang auntie was merely complimenting your good looks; she meant nothing else.”

…

Jia Cong first returned to Qingzhi Studio, collected his things, then went to Yingchun’s quarters.

Yingchun was pleased to see Jia Cong arrive and asked him about his studies at the academy, and whether he felt confident about this year’s provincial examination.

Yingchun was usually quiet and reserved, yet strangely, in front of Jia Cong, she had no shortage of things to say—this was precisely why Jia Cong always visited her quarters whenever he returned home.

Jia Cong felt Yingchun wasn’t naturally timid or silent; her personality had been shaped by years of being ignored by those around her.

Like Jia Cong, Yingchun was the daughter of Jia She’s concubine; her mother died when she was very young, and after Lady Xing became Jia She’s second wife, she was brought by Jia Mu to be raised in her care.

Jia She was lustful and cold-hearted; even toward his legitimate son Jia Lian, he frequently beat and scolded him, showing no paternal affection—how much less would he care for Yingchun, a concubine-born daughter?

Since Yingchun had been brought to live with Jia Mu, father and daughter rarely saw each other, and he had long since stopped seeing her as his daughter.

Thus, Yingchun grew up almost entirely without a father or mother.

Jia Cong, from his later life, had heard many stories about left-behind children.

Children raised in such environments often developed introverted, withdrawn tendencies.

Moreover, Yingchun’s nature was not as bright and outgoing as Tanchun’s; she had never been favored by the old lady, lacked familial warmth, and went unnoticed—naturally, she became this quiet, passive, soft-spoken girl.

Perhaps because they were brother and sister of the same father, and their backgrounds were so similar, Jia Cong was drawn to this kind, quiet elder sister.

Thus, in front of Jia Cong, Yingchun naturally lowered her guard, and when with him, she found herself speaking more than she ever did otherwise.

It came effortlessly, without resistance—even she found it strange.

Perhaps things in this world truly are like this.

When I met you in my loneliness, I told you everything about myself.

Yingchun took out a pair of newly made shoes for Jia Cong to try, and Jia Cong pulled from his wooden box a porcelain vase painted with green leaves and white flowers.

Yingchun took it curiously: “Cong-di, what is this? It looks so exquisite.”

Jia Cong smiled: “It’s called perfume—a recent craze in the capital. Open the lid and sniff it.”

Yingchun lifted the lid and took a light sniff, exclaiming: “So fragrant—even the imperial dragon’s amber incense can’t compare. Such a tiny bottle—truly miraculous.”

“It’s distilled from fresh flowers and invigorating herbs; just a drop behind the ear or on the pulse point, and the scent lingers all day—far better than sachets or incense burners.”

…

Daiyu heard Jia Cong had returned to the mansion and gone to the Eastern Residence to receive guests, so she went to Tanchun’s quarters to sit.

At that moment, a beautiful girl entered, slender and graceful, her black hair glossy as lacquer, radiating lively, healthy energy.

Tanchun hurried to greet her: “Yun-yaotou, you’ve finally come! I heard yesterday you and your aunt came to pay respects to Grandmother on her birthday.”

The girl was Shi Xiangyun, Jia Mu’s niece’s daughter.

Shi Xiangyun glanced at Tanchun’s painting of “Western River Melody” and smiled: “Third sister always boasts about her calligraphy, but today in Rongqing Hall, I saw something even better.”

Daiyu laughed: “Is there someone in this mansion who writes better than Third Brother Cong? Don’t tease—tell us at once!”

“Today in Rongqing Hall, I not only saw Third Brother Cong—I witnessed a splendid show. It was utterly satisfying!”

Tanchun and Daiyu exchanged glances; Xiangyun had seen Third Brother Cong and witnessed a spectacle—surely it was connected to him.

They’d seen such things often enough these past years, but curiosity got the better of them, and they urged Shi Xiangyun to speak.

Shi Xiangyun was the liveliest and most talkative among the sisters, her tongue sharper than a oriole’s song.

She chattered away, vividly recounting the entire scene from Rongqing Hall.

When they heard how Wang Ziteng’s wife had publicly belittled and humiliated Jia Cong, Daiyu and Tanchun both furrowed their brows.

When they heard how Jia Cong’s words cut like blades, savagely mocking Madame Wang-Zhang until the woman nearly drove herself to smash her head against the wall,

Shi Xiangyun’s lively retelling, rich with expression and perfect mimicry of Jia Cong’s tone, made Daiyu and Tanchun burst into giggles.

“What are you all laughing about? Tell me too.”

(End of Chapter)