That night, the snow fell heavily, the wind howled, and icy flurries swirled through the air.
In the western wing’s inner room, twelve-year-old Shen Qi huddled under a paper-thin quilt, trembling as he held his nine-year-old brother, Shen Yan, close.
Drifting in and out of restless sleep, Shen Qi woke again from the cold. He reached out and touched Shen Yan’s ice-cold limbs. Gritting his teeth against the shivers, he tucked his brother’s small hands into his own chest for warmth.
On the low couch in the outer room, eleven-year-old Shen Mingluo lay curled up under a blanket, as silent as a sleeping kitten. The candle on the table was burning low, casting faint light that projected their mother Yao Shi’s frail and hunched silhouette onto the curtain.
“…Mother, come to bed. Stop working on that,” Shen Qi called softly, his voice hoarse from the cold.
Yao Shi rubbed the needle against her hair and replied, “Almost done. You go back to sleep. I’ll come soon. Sleep now, alright?”
Shen Qi knew she wouldn’t be done anytime soon.
Even skilled embroiderers needed half a month to finish such work, yet she was being forced to complete it in five days. If she failed, there would be no food or firewood for them. She had no choice but to work day and night. She was only twenty-six, but white hairs had already begun to show at her temples, and her eyesight was nearly ruined from exhaustion.
Shen Qi climbed out from under the quilt, intending to grab her hand and stop her.
Yao Shi turned sideways to avoid him, her eyes swollen red. “Qi Er, don’t make trouble. Go back and sleep with Little Nine.”
Shen Qi bit his lip and glared at the unfinished embroidery in her hands. Yao Shi sighed and set down her needlework, rising to her feet. “Go back to bed. I’ll sing you a lullaby.”
“No need,” Shen Qi muttered, turning away and burrowing back under the covers. If she sang, she’d only have to make up for lost time afterward—better not to waste any more effort.
Shen Yan, still half-asleep, shuddered from the cold draft entering the quilt. Shen Qi held his brother tightly, staring at the dim, flickering candlelight until dawn.
At the break of day, he finally dozed off, only to wake in alarm to find their mother gone.
She had already left to fetch water and prepare breakfast. The main household refused to eat food cooked by the servants—they wanted Yao Shi to do it instead, with a maid standing by to watch her every move.
After cooking the dishes they demanded, she still had to prepare special meals for Master Shen, who was bedridden from illness.
Master Shen had once been an official, a seventh-rank officer in the Capital Administration. Now, he was retired at home due to illness.
Not that resting would do him much good—he had suffered a stroke, leaving him with a twisted face, slurred speech, and trembling limbs. Lying in bed, he hardly resembled a man anymore—just a bundle of fading life, wrapped in nightclothes and exuding the heavy scent of decay.
The only remarkable thing about his life was marrying a rich merchant’s only daughter, Lady Zheng.
Zheng Shi was a broad-figured woman with a sharp tongue and a jealous temper, utterly intolerant of concubines. If Master Shen took one, she would get rid of her—either through beating, selling, or outright killing. She had broken four of the seven “seven grounds for divorce,” but her wealthy and powerful family shielded her, leaving Master Shen helpless.
The Shen household once had a kitchen maid whom Master Shen favored. She was skilled in cooking, clever, and obedient. When she became pregnant, Zheng Shi found out and had her beaten until she miscarried. The woman bled to death, but the child miraculously survived—that child was Shen Qi.
Master Shen, despite his scholarly knowledge, was no match for his domineering wife. Afraid of her temper and mindful of her powerful connections, he resigned himself to being a henpecked husband. But within half a year, he set his sights on Yao Shi, the daughter of a disgraced official sent to the pleasure houses. Enchanted by her beauty, grace, and talent in singing and dancing, he defied Zheng Shi’s fury and ransomed her to make her his concubine.
From then on, Zheng Shi saw Shen Qi as a thorn in her side and Yao Shi as a dagger in her heart. She wished she could rip them both out and grind them to dust.
Yao Shi, raised in a scholarly family, was gentle and patient, enduring every hardship in silence. She raised Shen Qi, a child who had lost his mother at birth, as her own. Later, she bore two more children—Shen Mingluo and Shen Yan—whom she lovingly nurtured. Single-handedly, she struggled to keep the three of them alive.
Zheng Shi, desperate for a son, gave birth to five daughters instead. The only boy she had was born mentally impaired. Now fifteen years old, he still drooled and ran after the maids, begging for milk.
Having lost all hope of producing a proper heir, she turned her resentment toward Yao Shi, tormenting her at every opportunity. She restricted her funds, gave her endless chores, and humiliated her at every turn. If Yao Shi so much as spoke a word to someone, she would accuse her of adultery, cursing her as a “filthy whore” and beating her mercilessly.
After Master Shen’s stroke, Zheng Shi seized full control of the household. Her word was law. She not only forced Yao Shi to toil day and night but also found every possible way to torment her children, eager to push them into an early grave.
In the bitter cold of winter, there was no cotton in the blankets, no charcoal in the brazier. The three children were so frozen that their hands and feet were covered in sores.
Shen Qi clenched his frostbitten hands, which were both itchy and painful, as he got up. Shen Yan had also woken up and asked, “Where’s big sister?”
“She went to help mother with work,” Shen Qi said, handing him his outer clothes.
“I want to help too.”
“With your little arms and legs? What can you do? Just focus on your studies.”
Shen Yan refused to go to school, pouting in protest. No matter how much Shen Qi coaxed him, it didn’t work. Frustrated, he slapped him.
The moment his hand swung out, he regretted it, but even though he tried to pull back his strength, it was too late. Red fingerprints immediately bloomed on Shen Yan’s cheek, the pale complexion turning into a striking pattern like a Tang San Cai glaze. Shen Qi inwardly berated himself—he had no control over his strength, and with his ninth brother being so delicate, if he broke him, where would he find another one?
Shen Yan didn’t cry. Covering his cheek, he said, “I’ll go to school.”
Feeling both guilty and heartbroken, Shen Qi pulled him into a hug. “Focus on your studies. Mother is counting on you. Eighth sister and I will handle everything else, so don’t worry about it.”
Shen Yan nodded, slung his schoolbag over his shoulder, grabbed a cold steamed bun from the table, and left.
After finishing the bun, Shen Qi went to the woodshed, chopping firewood and carrying stack after stack to the kitchen. Before long, a young maid named Qing Xing came running over in a panic, whispering urgently, “The madam is about to punish Nine Ger with the family law! Qi Ger, hurry!”
Years ago, when Qing Xing had been gravely ill and thrown out to die, it was Yao Shi who had pleaded with Master Shen and given her medicine to save her life. She had always been grateful and had secretly helped their mother and her three children many times.
Hearing this, Shen Qi immediately dropped the firewood, grabbed the chopping knife, and rushed over.
The courtyard was already set up for punishment. Two rows of strong servants stood in formation, while a house servant pinned Shen Yan’s thin frame down in the snow. His schoolbag had been torn apart, and books were scattered all over. He struggled to gather them.
Madam Zheng sat on a purple sandalwood armchair placed on the steps. She was adorned with a headpiece full of pearls and jade, wearing a luxurious red brocade jacket embroidered with golden motifs of children and prosperity, layered with a silk robe featuring eight large floral patterns. Around her neck was a thick, high-quality sable fur scarf—rich and warm. Behind her stood seven or eight maids, her expression dark as if she were about to summon a blizzard.
Beside her, a maid named Meihua held a coiled, jet-black leather whip as thick as an egg.
This type of whip was far worse than an ordinary stick—when wielded skillfully, it wouldn’t break the skin but would turn the flesh underneath into a bloody mess. The bruises would last for a month.
Shen Qi’s expression changed instantly. He charged forward, trying to push away the servant restraining Shen Yan, but was blocked by the two rows of guards. He roared, “Why are you punishing my little brother again?!”
Meihua scowled. “He pushed Sixth Young Master into the water and almost drowned him! Does he not deserve to be punished?”
Shen Yan protested, “It wasn’t me! Sixth Brother took my schoolbag and climbed onto the rockery himself. He slipped and fell into the water! I was the one who called for help.”
Meihua sneered, “Sixth Young Master has never stolen anyone’s school bag before. Why would he steal yours? You must have provoked him with your words, angered him, and then pushed him off the rockery into the water. In the dead of winter, were you not trying to kill him?”
The redness on Shen Yan’s cheek, which had just faded, flared up again. “You’re slandering me! Sixth Brother ran up there on his own and fell by himself. Why is it always blamed on me? It’s always been like this! He doesn’t understand anything—”
Madam Zheng’s expression twisted as if she’d been struck in a sore spot. Her face darkened like iron, and she snapped, “He’s a legitimate son and doesn’t understand, yet a b*stard child born from a courtesan like you does?”
A fierce glint flashed in Shen Qi’s eyes. He swung the chopping knife wildly, slashing at the servant holding his brother down. The man yelped in pain and loosened his grip, allowing Shen Qi to break free and rush forward.
Madam Zheng was so furious she could barely breathe. Seeing Shen Yan kneeling there stubbornly, his features resembling that of his mother, a seductive songstress, her old and new grudges surged up together. She shouted, “What are you all standing around for? Are you tree stumps? Beat them! Beat them to death!”
As the whip came down, Shen Qi barely had time to grab Shen Yan’s wrist before shielding him with his body.
The whip lashed across his back with a resounding crack. A wave of searing pain exploded through him, as if his flesh had been split in two. He clenched his muscles tightly, swallowing the agony, refusing to cry out.
The servant wielding the whip hesitated and turned to Madam Zheng. “Madam, who should we beat now?”
Madam Zheng gritted her teeth. “Both of these unfilial brats! Beat them to death! I’ll take responsibility!”
The whip rained down like a storm. The pain was excruciating, like being stabbed by a thousand needles, sweat pouring down in streams. Shen Qi held onto his ninth brother with all his strength, shielding him from the blows. He knew very well—this wasn’t just a punishment; the old hag was set on killing them. Begging for mercy would do nothing but add humiliation.
Shen Yan could hear the sharp sound of the whip slicing through the air, felt the rapid, pained breathing of his seventh brother, heard the muffled grunts as he endured the blows. In desperation, he struggled. “Seventh Brother, don’t take this for me! I can handle it—just move away…”
Shen Qi pinned his arms and legs down, his voice hoarse and filled with pain. “You did nothing wrong. The guilty one is her. The one who deserves to die is her!”
Qing Xing suddenly dropped to her knees with a thud, weeping. “Qi Ger, Nine Ger, please just apologize! Admit your mistake and let Madam calm down!” Then she turned to Zheng Shi, pleading, “They are just children who got carried away playing with Sixth Young Master. Please, Madam, for the sake of the Master, spare them this time!”
Madam Zheng shrieked, “You wretched maid! Using Master to pressure me? He had a stroke and is paralyzed—wasn’t that because of these unfilial sons? Today’s beating is just a way to let him vent his anger! If I don’t discipline them, how will I uphold the family’s rules?”
Shen Yan, angered by his brother’s suffering, argued back, “Even if Father was angered into illness, it wasn’t because of us! You beat people without reason—is that what you call family rules?”
Madam Zheng’s face turned ashen. She slammed her hand on the chair’s armrest and shouted, “How dare you! A son makes a mistake, and a mother can’t discipline him?”
Shen Qi, blood staining his lips, coldly retorted, “Speaking nonsense in front of the judge—who here sees us as sons, and who do we recognize as our mother? Don’t we all know the truth?”
Madam Zheng jabbed a trembling finger at him, her voice quivering with rage. “You… you people… The son of a kitchen maid, the son of a concubine! As expected, all cut from the same filthy cloth! A mother with no foundation, birthing nothing but ungrateful, treacherous beasts!”
Shen Qi was only twelve, a half-grown boy, but he already had the heart of a predator. How could he tolerate such insults? At once, fury surged within him. He suddenly raised his hand and yanked hard on the tip of the whip.
The servant wielding the soft whip was caught off guard and stumbled forward. In the next instant, a hatchet slashed across the back of his neck. His head was cleaved clean off, tumbling like chopped firewood. Blood sprayed everywhere. He died instantly.
Everyone present turned pale with terror.
Shen Qi pressed a bloodstained hand to the snowy ground and slowly got up. His eyes, filled with savage brutality, locked onto Madam Zheng. A bloodthirsty gleam flickered within them.
Madam Zheng had never imagined that Shen Qi would kill someone in public. The overwhelming stench of blood sent a wave of fear through her heart. With a shriek, she collapsed backward in a faint.
A maid cried out, “The First Madam has taken ill! Hurry and call a physician!” A group of maids hurriedly gathered around and carried her back to her room.
Seeing the situation turn dire, the household servants scattered like a routed army.
Shen Qi spat. “Old hag.” Then, supporting Shen Yan, he struggled back to the western wing.
Qing Xing was so frightened she nearly fainted. Stumbling to her feet, she followed behind them, murmuring in shock, “Someone’s dead… Qi Ger killed someone… What do we do?”
Shen Qi sneered coldly. “That b*stard signed a slave contract—he belonged to the Shen family. The authorities won’t care. At worst, that wretched old woman will punish me with family law. Either way, they were going to beat us to death. Killing or not killing him—what’s the difference?”
