Di Qingya couldn’t bear to look at him; she turned her head away—only to be suddenly pulled into his embrace. He held her tightly, as if to fuse her into his very bones.
“You’ve suffered, Ya’er,” Hang Zhi said hoarsely in her ear. Just that one sentence made Qingya’s eyes brim with hot tears. It was as though he knew every grievance she had endured. She buried her face in his chest, quickly soaking his robe with her tears.
The old lady, seeing this, dug her nails into her own hand to stop herself from reacting. “Zhi’er, do you truly believe this defiant daughter-in-law, that the mother who gave birth to and raised you could be such a villain?”
“Yes, cousin, mother is the kindest person—how could she ever harm sister-in-law? We’ve all seen it over the years—she’s never treated her badly. Second aunt, third aunt, isn’t that so?” Wang Ziqi chimed in. Normally she called the elder lady “aunt,” but today she deliberately used “mother” instead, and called Di Qingya “sister-in-law,” just in case Qingya didn’t know Hang Zhi had accepted her.
The second and third madams shrank their necks and hunched their backs, wishing they could escape this place of trouble immediately. On one side was their mother-in-law, on the other the sixth brother and sister-in-law—offending either was unthinkable.
As expected, Qingya stiffened when she heard Wang Ziqi’s voice. She pushed Hang Zhi away, roughly wiping her tears. Hang Zhi had completely forgotten Wang Ziqi’s existence; her push filled him with panic. He grabbed her arm, refusing to let her pull away.
“You all leave. I want to speak to Ya’er alone,” Hang Zhi said heavily.
The old lady retorted, “No! Whatever you have to say, say it here in front of everyone! My conscience is clear—I will not allow a little woman to ruin my good name at the end of the day!”
“I want to speak with Ya’er alone, Mother,” Hang Zhi repeated, his tone colder still.
Qingya lifted her head in shock. The handsome face of Hang Zhi now held sharp, severe lines, making the man she knew so well suddenly seem unfamiliar.
Old Madam Hang, however, knew very well that ever since Di Qingya’s “death,” Hang Zhi’s temperament had drastically changed. Once, his personality had been completely within her grasp, but now it was unpredictable. She had even, for a fleeting moment, regretted killing Di Qingya—never expecting this woman to matter so much to her son, to the point that he went white-haired overnight and grew strange in manner. But the regret passed quickly. She firmly believed she had done nothing wrong. Di Qingya was of no help to her son in the slightest; apart from acting spoiled and willful, she only dragged him down, keeping her most beloved son circling around her daily, even forgetting his own mother. Truly, she should never have softened and agreed to Hang Zhi’s request from the start—had she chosen a daughter-in-law herself, nothing would have gone wrong.
Yes—if that jinx Di Qingya had stayed, her son might never have become Prime Minister!
Thinking this, the old lady felt her confidence return. No matter what was said, she had reason on her side, and she was not afraid of Di Qingya’s provocations.
“Old Lady, why don’t I accompany you out and let the young couple talk on their own?” Qian Jiaoniang smiled pleasantly, offering the old lady a light, polite hand. There was no use debating with such a malicious old woman—everything now depended on Hang Zhi.
Qian Jiaoniang knew well that asking a man to choose between his mother and his wife was like laying him out on an execution block. If a mother said her daughter-in-law was bad, then she was bad—yet could a son speak ill of his own mother? Even if Hang Zhi was a high-ranking official, such words would only mark him as unfilial. But Qian Jiaoniang had just watched in silence, and the way Hang Zhi looked at Qingya—so deep and intense—was something even she, an outsider, could see was full of love. Even if there was only the faintest hope, Qian Jiaoniang sincerely wished Hang Zhi would protect Qingya. After all, Qingya’s heart was filled, through and through, with Hang Zhi.
“Prime Minister, shall we wait, then?” Qian Jiaoniang said with meaning. Hang Zhi’s expression was cold and set; he nodded.
The title of “Dingxi Marchioness” was far too weighty, and the elder lady had to give Qian Jiaoniang some face. She forced a sigh and an awkward smile, leaving with Qian Jiaoniang while saying as they walked, “I’ve made the Marchioness laugh—this is all just a misunderstanding. My sixth daughter-in-law has been spoiled by my son, never knowing the dangers of the world. I don’t know who has taken advantage of her to harm the Hang family.”
“Qingya is someone I brought back,” Qian Jiaoniang said, stroking Big Sis’s head, her smile unchanged.
The old lady choked on her words—how had she forgotten that? Truly, she’d been muddled by anger. “Of course I wasn’t speaking of the Marchioness. So it was you who saved my sixth daughter-in-law?”
Qian Jiaoniang said nothing, only smiling as she carried the dog and stepped over the threshold first. She lived each day as it came now, and had no wish to waste breath on such a venomous person.
The old lady had never endured such slight. Furious, she dug her fingers into Wang Ziqi’s arm, making her nearly yelp—she had been glancing back at Hang Zhi and Qingya when the pinch came.
Once everyone had left, Qingya seemed to lose all strength, sinking into a chair and wiping away the last traces of her tears. Hang Zhi crouched before her, silently taking her hand. Her hand was cold, his even colder—ten fingers interlaced, neither knowing if they were chilled or warmed.
Qingya raised her gaze to look at Hang Zhi. He lifted his face to meet her eyes, a deep sorrow pooling in his gaze. She raised one hand to gently stroke his cheek. It was the first time Qingya had seen her husband look so vulnerable. He had always been much older than her, in her mind an unshakable pillar, her sky itself. She had thought she could be the happiest woman in the world under his wings—yet now…
“What’s the point of all this? Wouldn’t it be easier to just think of me as dead?” she asked, her fingers brushing his brow, eyes brimming with tears.
Hang Zhi slowly shook his head. Taking her hand, he pressed it to his lips and kissed it lightly. Qingya felt the damp heat in her palm—when she looked again, his face was streaked with tears.
“So it’s true…” Hang Zhi said hoarsely. “When you said Mother didn’t like you, it had already gone this far.”
Hang Zhi had always known there was tension between them. After all, his mother had been unwilling to let him marry Qingya—he had only forced her consent by insisting to the point of no return. He had never told Ya’er, afraid she would overthink. After the wedding, Ya’er complained that Mother’s rules were too strict, that she bullied her. He only thought Mother was holding a grudge and putting on airs, while Ya’er, pampered all her life, might exaggerate. If he stepped in, it might only add fuel to the fire and anger his mother further. So he had pretended ignorance, believing that once Mother saw Ya’er’s good points, they would get along. When Ya’er stopped mentioning it, he thought the rift had healed. He never expected… never expected this!
That Ya’er’s fall into the river was the result of his own mother’s intent to kill her—thinking of the woman he had cherished most being alone and helpless on that boat, watching her close maid die for her, and in despair leaping into the freezing river—Hang Zhi’s whole body trembled, and he wished he could kill himself.
“It’s all my fault, all my fault!” Hang Zhi let go of Qingya’s hand and struck himself hard across the face. It was his fault—if only he had truly listened to Ya’er’s complaints, he might have noticed something; if only he had been willing to unsettle his own peace and reason with his mother earlier, she would never have acted so viciously; if only he had heard Ya’er’s anxious, unspoken plea before she left, she would never have suffered such disaster!
“What are you doing!” Qingya seized his hand, stopping him from punishing himself further. “You’ve been good to me. You are not at fault.”
Hearing his beloved wife still defend him at this moment, Hang Zhi almost couldn’t bear to face her. He buried his face in her lap, arms around her, sobbing quietly.
Qingya let out a long, soft sigh, stroking his back. “It’s enough for me that you believe me. I didn’t want to come back—because I don’t know what to do about this, and… well, I have no proof. I can’t get justice for Ruyu, my poor Ruyu—I can’t do anything! I hate your mother, truly hate her, and she hates me. I can’t live under the same roof as her—this knot will never be untied! If I don’t say it out loud, and you force me to stay, one day I’ll still die at her hands. Better to speak it now, and for us to let go, each going our own way in peace.”
“Absolutely not!” Hang Zhi lifted his head, hastily wiping his tears. “I’ve waited so long for you to come back—how could I let you leave me again?”
“And what about your mother? She’s your own mother!”
Hang Zhi froze. That was his mother—the woman who had carried him for ten months and raised him, the one who had always loved him most. How could he deal with her?
