Volume One, Chapter 3: What Face Did She Still Have?

He wanted her to apologize to Lin Xinyan—was Wei Shuye out of his mind? Changle found herself both furious and amused.

Wei Shuye had always been this way. When he protected Changle, she was the apple of his eye. If anyone so much as made her slightly uncomfortable, he would storm over himself to settle the matter. But now she had gone from being his precious gem to a mere pebble, and even a second glance seemed too much to ask. Compared to Lin Xinyan’s resilience, independence, and courage to break free of convention, Changle’s willfulness and arrogance appeared immature and vexing.

“Wei Shuye, do you truly want me to apologize to Lin Xinyan?”

“Yes,” he replied resolutely.

Changle stared straight at him. “I’ll ask you one last time. Do you really want me to apologize to Lin Xinyan?”

“And I’ll answer you one last time. Yes!”

“I advise you not to get any ideas about Xinyan, or don’t blame me for disregarding our past,” Wei Shuye warned darkly, lowering his voice, well aware of how reckless Changle could be when angered.

“She’s nothing. Do you think she’s worth my trouble?” Changle withdrew her gaze, her anger fading into calm. “Wei Shuye, if you truly cared for her, you should remember that you are still my fiancé. She kissed you in public, showing no regard for propriety. Even if I had her thrown in a pig cage and drowned in the river, no one would dare utter a word.”

“Don’t you dare!” Wei Shuye’s face turned icy, his eyes brimming with nothing but disgust and aversion.

“So, is it that I don’t dare, or that you’re afraid?”

“I don’t want to argue with you here. If you’re not afraid of being shamed, I still care about my reputation.” With that, Wei Shuye, accompanied by his attendants, strode into the Marquis of Chang’an’s residence.

Changle lowered her eyes.

What reputation did she have left?

Five years ago, when she had finally returned to Shengdu after untold hardship, she had already lost her good name. Rumors had somehow spread, claiming she’d been violated and was no longer pure. Again and again, the whispers and sneers trampled her dignity underfoot.

She had once screamed herself hoarse in her defense, raged like a madwoman, even surrendered all her pride to let the matrons inspect her chastity. But how many truly believed her? The gossipers insisted she had bribed the matrons ahead of time. No matter how many she summoned to attest to her innocence, people only believed whatever truth they wished.

At first, Wei Shuye said he trusted her, even stood up for her and fought with many on her behalf. But, little by little, his faith was eroded by the ceaseless rumors; doubt crept in. He began to believe the tales—that her lips had been tasted by countless men in the bandit den, her arms a pillow for all.

Her explanations, her attempts to prove herself became, in his eyes, nothing more than pathetic and laughable excuses. The look in his eyes shifted from pity to revulsion.

Changle used to be pained by this, but now her skin had grown thick. As long as the idle talk stayed out of earshot, she could pretend it didn’t exist. If anyone dared say a word to her face, she’d tear their mouth to shreds. Since everyone thought her mad, anything a madwoman did was only to be expected.

Changle, too, entered the Marquis’s residence.

Qi Feirou, accompanied by Hua Zhiyu, was greeting the ladies. At the sight of Changle walking in alone, her brows knitted. One glance at Changle’s plain attire, and her expression darkened at once.

“What’s the matter with you? Today is your sister’s coming-of-age ceremony—how could you dress so shabbily? Are you trying to make it look as though our household is neglecting you?” The more Qi Feirou looked at her, the more displeased she became. This daughter was a constant source of worry, nothing like Zhiyu, who never caused her trouble and always made her proud.

“Mother, I’m already very happy that my sister came today,” Hua Zhiyu said softly, affectionately linking arms with Qi Feirou and offering Changle a gentle smile. “Sister, today should have been your coming-of-age ceremony as well, but His Majesty wished to grant me the county lady’s title at mine. Mother and Father said imperial favor must come first, so the ceremony had to be held in my name. I feel so sorry for you, truly.”

Qi Feirou’s face, so full of impatience when facing Changle, instantly melted into a smile when she turned to Hua Zhiyu. She patted Zhiyu’s hand indulgently, her voice turning warm. “Zhiyu, you needn’t say such things to her. If she were truly sensible, she’d understand that you are now the face of our household—a benefit to her, not a detriment.”

“After today, you’ll be a county lady. The imperial edict is probably already on its way from the palace. Hurry and change into the gown I’ve prepared for you so you’ll be ready to receive it.”

Hua Zhiyu nodded obediently, but then hesitated, glancing worriedly at her mother. “But there are still so many guests. If I leave all the entertaining to you, Mother, I fear it will be too much for you.”

As she spoke, she looked at Changle with a plea, almost deferential. “Sister, Mother’s health is delicate. I need to change clothes—could you help me entertain the guests with Mother for a little while? It’ll only be for a moment, would you?”

“Zhiyu, go change. Leave her be,” Qi Feirou replied. “With her temperament, I’d be grateful if she didn’t make trouble, never mind helping.”

“But then Mother will be overburdened,” Zhiyu said, her concern evident.

Changle had no interest in watching Hua Zhiyu and Qi Feirou act out their mother-daughter affection. She turned on her heel and left.

Today’s lavish, bustling banquet was, as everyone knew, held for the eldest daughter of the Marquis’s household. Hua Zhiyu was renowned for her talent and grace in Shengdu, her beauty and bearing beyond compare. Rumor had it His Majesty would confer upon her the county lady’s title during the ceremony.

Many noblewomen had brought their sons along, their intentions clear without needing to be stated.

“I heard Hua Zhiyu and Hua Changle were born on the same day, in the same year. Yet today, only Hua Zhiyu’s coming-of-age is celebrated—what about Hua Changle?”

“Don’t bring her up. Aren’t you familiar with Hua Changle’s temperament? Be careful she doesn’t hear and tear your mouth apart.”

“Tsk, look at Hua Zhiyu—always putting on airs. She’s just an adopted daughter, yet she acts like the true-born lady of the household.”

“What? Hua Zhiyu isn’t the Marquis’s real daughter?”

“Not at all. You must be new to Shengdu. The Marquis and his wife have only one son and one daughter—the son is Hua Changqing, the daughter Hua Changle. Hua Zhiyu was adopted into the household eight years ago.”

“I’ve heard Hua Zhiyu’s real father was the Marquis’s sworn brother, killed in an uprising. Her mother couldn’t bear the loss, hung herself at the funeral, leaving Zhiyu an orphan. The Marquis took her in out of pity.”

“Whatever the reason, the Marchioness always brings Zhiyu to every banquet, never her own daughter. Hua Changle’s name is rarely even mentioned.”

“So that’s how it is. The Marchioness truly treats her adopted daughter well.”

At that moment, a collective gasp of amazement swept through the crowd—Hua Zhiyu had returned in her new attire.