Chapter 332: Crumbling Gentleman Image

Chapter 332: The Collapse of the Gentleman’s Image

Before he could even finish speaking, his throat suddenly went utterly silent—he couldn’t utter a single word!

Ji Huaiche stared at Chen Hu in horror, while Chen Hu wore an expression of complete innocence.

What are you staring at me for? It wasn’t *him* who had just sealed Ji Huaiche’s mute acupoint.

Who told him to run his mouth so recklessly that even Luo Junhe inside the carriage couldn’t bear it any longer?

Others might have missed it, but Chen Hu had seen it clearly—a tiny pebble, no bigger than a fingernail, had shot out from the carriage.

It moved too fast to catch—striking his mute acupoint dead-on.

Chen Hu only needed a moment’s thought to realize Prince Ye was stepping in to defend the Princess.

And Ji Huaiche had clearly mistaken *him* for the culprit!

Chen Hu watched as Ji Huaiche gaped wide-mouthed, utterly voiceless—and couldn’t help but think of a fish gasping for air.

Just before death, a fish opens its mouth like that and rolls its eyes upward.

At that very moment, Ji Huaiche had already begun gesturing wildly, accusing Chen Hu and signaling the Dali Temple guards to move in and seize him—demanding the antidote.

Seeing the imperial officers closing in, Chen Hu immediately darted to Ji Yuntang’s side and protested:

“Princess, Third Young Master Ji tried to frame you—and now Heir Ji is trying to frame *me*. Are they all professional con artists in their family?”

Ji Yuntang: “…”

Chen Hu had been by her side so long he’d even picked up the term “framing”?

Not bad—he was a quick learner.

Ji Yuntang delivered one final slap to Ji Zihang, withdrew her hand, and turned to Chen Hu.

“What’s going on?”

Chen Hu replied, sounding deeply wronged: “With so many witnesses present, I didn’t even *touch* Heir Ji—and yet he suddenly ended up like this!”

“If he’s ill, he should see a physician—not try to have imperial officers arrest me! I’ve been grievously wronged!”

No sooner had Chen Hu finished speaking than Ji Huaiche suddenly erupted.

His mouth hung wide open, his chest heaving—like a volcano on the verge of explosion.

Everyone could see his lips moving—but not a single sound emerged.

“You good-for-nothing mule! With your shameless face, you still dare stand there putting on airs!”

“Who knows what filth that bitch Ji Yuntang has fed you to turn you against your own conscience and serve her? Once you’re no longer useful, you won’t even know how you died…”

As Ji Huaiche ranted on, he suddenly noticed everyone staring at him—shocked, stunned, speechless.

Even Ji Zihang, his face swollen and crimson from Ji Yuntang’s slaps, looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

Ji Huaiche’s heart lurched. He touched his throat, drew a breath—and realized, with dawning horror, that he *could* speak again?

Then everyone around him must have heard *every single curse* he’d just hurled!

Ji Huaiche: “…”

Ji Huaiche: “!!!”

The realization struck him like lightning—paralyzing him on the spot.

He’d been utterly stunned. The reason he’d cursed Chen Hu so recklessly was that he’d tried repeatedly—and was *certain* his throat couldn’t produce a sound.

No matter what he said, no one could hear him.

He’d been convinced Chen Hu had poisoned him.

Ji Huaiche demanded the antidote—but Chen Hu deliberately feigned ignorance, so he’d simply unleashed every vile, filthy word he could muster—even dragging Ji Yuntang into his tirade.

Normally, in public, Ji Huaiche cultivated the image of a refined, elegant gentleman—speaking with restraint and courtesy.

Only when provoked by Ji Yuntang did his temper flare; otherwise, he treated everyone with impeccable politeness.

But who would have imagined *so many people* would hear those curses—and that he wouldn’t even *realize* it?

Ji Huaiche stood frozen—his carefully maintained gentlemanly image, painstakingly built over more than a decade, utterly shattered!

He couldn’t even find a corner to weep.

For the first time in his life, Ji Huaiche felt the full, crushing weight of malice.

Ironically, his reputation among the common folk had shifted overnight—from the cultured, dignified Heir Ji to a petty, vindictive man who abused his power to bully others.

The stark contrast in how people now referred to him made Ji Huaiche feel as though he’d plummeted from heaven to hell.

He’d never imagined his own hands would destroy his image—irreparably, irreversibly.

In the adjacent study, Meng watched her two most cherished sons—one beaten by Ji Yuntang until blood streamed from his nose and mouth, the other surrounded by onlookers pointing and whispering.

Her heart ached so fiercely she could barely breathe; tears poured down her face.

“Che’er… Hang’er… my poor sons. Both so gifted—throughout the capital, who hasn’t praised my fortune in raising three such outstanding sons?”

“Who could have foreseen that Che’er and Hang’er would be framed—powerless to defend themselves? Their bodies are wounded—but it’s *my heart* that’s breaking. When have my boys ever suffered such humiliation?”

The more Meng dwelled on it, the sharper the pain grew. She lunged toward the door—only for Ji Nanchuan to seize her arm.

His expression grim, he demanded, “Where do you think you’re going?”

Meng’s nails dug deep into her palms as she replied, eyes blazing red: “I’m going to fetch a physician for Hang’er—and demand justice for Che’er!”

“Hang’er has been injured by that *bitch* Ji Yuntang—and no one’s even thought to call a physician for him all this time! His pride is everything—he competes tomorrow! If his face doesn’t heal in time, how can he appear at the Canglang Poetry Talk?”

“And Che’er—we both know Che’er’s nature. He always speaks with caution, treats everyone with courtesy, and has *never* uttered a single curse.”

“Those words were *not* his intent—they were the result of being poisoned by that flunky beside Ji Yuntang! Che’er is the *victim*. If people want to curse someone, they should curse the *poisoner*—not my Che’er!”

“They can’t defeat Ji Yuntang—but as their mother, I *will* set things right for them today!”

Meng finished speaking—and rushed toward the door—only for Ji Nanchuan to pull her back again, his voice stern and unyielding: “Don’t go!”

“Che’er appearing down there has already given people grounds to accuse him of abusing his authority and bullying Ji Yuntang. If *you* show your face now—won’t that confirm to everyone that the carriage incident at Prince Ye’s residence was staged by Marquis Yongning’s household?”

“Che’er and Hang’er have always been arrogant and disdainful—looking down their noses at everyone. Since they’ve taken such a devastating blow at Ji Yuntang’s hands, let this be their lesson.”

“Only by remembering today’s humiliation will they learn restraint—knowing what to say and what to withhold, what to do and what to avoid. Only then will they change.”

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