Chapter 141

"Master!" Xiuzhu's Wife stared at Fifth Master Fu, her face full of shock.

She was delivering a message on behalf of the mistress—she represented the mistress herself. How could the master slap the mistress's face like this in front of the future son-in-law, his son, daughter-in-law, daughter, and servants?

Fu Tingzheng hesitated as well.

But when he saw his father shoot him a fierce glare, he immediately answered "Yes" and called for a servant to seize Xiuzhu's Wife.

Fu Tingjun loudly rebuked Fifth Master Fu: "Father, do you still have any regard for Mother?"

Fifth Master Fu sneered: "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have slapped your mother's face."

Young Mistress Fu, leaning against the bamboo curtain in the hall with tears streaming down her face, silently watched the servant run past her but dared not make a sound.

Fu Tingjun was furious.

The servants had already grabbed Xiuzhu's Wife from all sides.

Fu Tingjun lifted her skirt and charged forward: "I want to see Mother!" But Fifth Master Fu grabbed her arm: "I told you, this is my house. It's not your place to make a scene here." He flung his hand hard, and Fu Tingjun stumbled—had Zhao Ling not caught her, she would have fallen to the ground.

Xiuzhu's Wife struggled desperately: "Let me go! I was acting on the mistress's orders!"

Fu Tingjun glared at her father, about to rush forward to help Xiuzhu's Wife, but Zhao Ling held her back.

She turned around and saw Zhao Ling's jaw clenched tight, fury churning in his eyes, his expression extremely fierce.

This was a Zhao Ling she had never seen before.

Fu Tingjun was somewhat startled.

Zhao Ling had already steadied her: "Come, let's go see Auntie."

"Mm!" Fu Tingjun involuntarily followed his steps forward.

But Fifth Master Fu stepped forward, blocking the path to Madam Fu's side chamber.

His gaze was icy, his chin slightly raised, his expression arrogant as he looked at Zhao Ling, a hint of disdain faintly visible between his brows.

Zhao Ling sneered, released Fu Tingjun, stepped forward a few paces, and suddenly drew the saber at his waist...

"You, what are you doing?" Fifth Master Fu cried out in shock, his face instantly turning ashen.

Zhao Ling's lips curled with a barely perceptible trace of mockery. The gleaming broadsword sliced through the air, carrying bone-piercing coldness, and swung toward Fifth Master Fu...

"Ah!" Fifth Master Fu clutched his head and fled...

"Master!"

"Father-in-law!"

"Ninth Master!"

"Zhao Ling!"

Cries rose and fell from all corners of the courtyard, chaos erupting everywhere.

Fifth Master Fu collided with Fu Tingzheng—who stood there dazed and stupid, staring at Zhao Ling in terror—and fell flat on his back, limbs splayed in the air.

The broadsword, gleaming with autumn-water coldness, followed immediately. With a sharp "clang," the blade tip pierced into the blue brick right at Fifth Master Fu's toes. The red-silk-wrapped hilt trembled in the air, letting out a faint whimper.

The courtyard fell so silent you could hear a pin drop.

"Zhao Ling," Fu Tingjun ran over with a face as pale as snow and grabbed his arm. "You, are you alright?"

He must have been furious...

"I'm fine." Zhao Ling gently shook his head at Fu Tingjun, his gaze coldly landing on Fifth Master Fu, his expression resolute. "Come, let's go see Auntie."

Fu Tingjun nodded, her gaze involuntarily following Zhao Ling's to rest on Fifth Master Fu.

She saw her father, under Zhao Ling's gaze, show terror on his face and tremble as he shuffled backward.

Was this the father who had just been so overbearing and slapped Zhao Ling across the face?

Was this the father who sneered and berated her loudly every time he saw her?

Was this the father with such handsome bearing and grace?

Fu Tingjun could hardly believe what she was seeing.

She looked toward her elder brother Fu Tingzheng as if seeking confirmation.

Fu Tingzheng's gaze flickered; he dared not meet her eyes.

Was this the brother who had loudly scolded her for bringing shame to the family?

Fu Tingjun was deeply disappointed.

She walked past her father with her head held high.

Her elder brother Fu Tingzheng retreated repeatedly, his face pale, until his back hit the large crimson pillar and he could retreat no further—only then did he stop.

Young Mistress Fu lowered her head in shame.

Fu Tingjun walked forward, eyes straight ahead.

In the corridor, the servants who had been holding Xiuzhu's Wife released her and pressed themselves against the wall, holding their breath, terrified that Zhao Ling and Fu Tingjun might notice them.

Freed at last, Xiuzhu's Wife came forward with tears in her eyes, bending her knees to greet her: "Ninth Miss!" Her tone paused briefly, then she respectfully addressed Zhao Ling as "Lord Zhao."

Zhao Ling gave her the courtesy due to an elder and loyal servant, nodding to her with a smile. He stopped outside the side chamber, clasped his fists in salute, and announced in a clear voice: "Madam Fu, this junior Zhao Ling, together with your daughter, have come at your summons."

"You, come in!" A weak, feeble female voice came from within.

It was Mother!

Fu Tingjun cast a grateful glance at Zhao Ling, and together they answered "Yes" respectfully before entering the room.

Though it was broad daylight, the room was dim and stifling. Stepping inside, Fu Tingjun was momentarily blinded; only after a moment did she take in the scene.

In the sweltering heat, the window frames covered in Korean paper were tightly shut, the air thick with the scent of rosewood incense, making the room feel even more oppressively hot.

The wooden-framed bed against the wall was draped with white summer gauze curtains, half-drawn at the moment. A gaunt woman, thin as a bundle of sticks, leaned against a rattan-yellow Hangzhou silk bolster, wrapped in a thin moon-white Hangzhou silk quilt. In the dim room, her large almond-shaped eyes were murky and lifeless, like pearls that had lost their luster, evoking the melancholy of beauty in decline.

Zhao Ling was secretly astonished.

He remembered how Madam Fu had once been—her face full as the moon, her eyes clear as autumn waters...

Fu Tingjun had already knelt before her mother's bed.

"Mother!" She grasped her mother's hand, which lay on the thin quilt, so gaunt it was covered in blue veins, tears streaming down her face. "How... how did you come to look like this?"

"Silly child," Madam Fu said weakly, offering a faint smile. "I've been ill, so naturally I've come to look like this." She seemed reluctant to dwell on the subject and instructed Xiuzhu's Wife, "Light the lamp!" Then she turned her gaze to Zhao Ling, who stood at the doorway. "You're Zhao Ling, aren't you? Come closer, let me have a look at you!"

Zhao Ling acknowledged with a respectful bow and stepped forward with a humble demeanor.

The room was still shrouded in gloom as Xiuzhu's Wife lit the lamp.

Now Fu Tingjun could see more clearly.

Her mother's temples were streaked with gray.

She couldn't help but cry out "Mother" again, her tone heavy with worry.

Madam Fu smiled at her daughter.

Xiuzhu's Wife moved the lamp to the small table beside the bed.

The soft lamplight fell upon Madam Fu's face, adding a touch of serenity and warmth to her expression.

She studied Zhao Ling carefully.

The man before her was no longer the destitute figure she remembered. His expression was calm, his gaze resolute, his stature tall and well-proportioned, and his brow carried an air of powerful confidence that lent a certain authority to his still-youthful face, making him truly outstanding.

Her gaze unconsciously drifted toward her daughter.

Her daughter's beautiful eyes brimmed with tears, her expression somewhat dimmed, yet her snow-white skin and rosy lips made her as enchanting as the finest May scenery. One handsome and composed, the other delicate and gentle—they complemented each other perfectly, like a pair of jade figures.

Madam Fu couldn't help but smile.

She recalled how her greatest fear had been that Zhao Ling would prove untrustworthy, yet it was because of him that her daughter had come this far.

She said to Zhao Ling, "Xiuzhu's Wife has told me everything about you. I've been waiting for you!"

Both Fu Tingjun and Zhao Ling were taken aback, but then a surge of joy flooded Zhao Ling's heart, and he couldn't suppress a delighted smile. He knelt side by side with Fu Tingjun before Madam Fu's bed.

Why had Madam Fu been waiting for him? Naturally, it was because of Fu Tingjun.

Fu Tingjun was someone abandoned by her family—no ancestral hall, no kin. Would he cherish her? Would he be willing to take responsibility for this bond? It all depended on whether he had the courage to come to the Fu household to seek her hand, whether he had the courage to acknowledge this relationship. Now, by accompanying Fu Tingjun through the door, he had already passed Madam Fu's test—that is to say, Madam Fu had given her blessing to the marriage between him and Fu Tingjun.

"Madam!" Zhao Ling said sincerely. "Please trust me—I will take good care of Quanhui and will never abandon her. Moreover, I have already petitioned the Emperor to request that the Grand Empress Dowager bestow a marriage upon us. I will not let Quanhui suffer any grievance."

Fu Tingjun understood as well.

She glanced at Zhao Ling, her face flushing crimson with embarrassment.

Madam Fu's smile gradually faded, and she looked Zhao Ling squarely in the eye. "I have a daughter, whose childhood name is Quanhui. Though she was mischievous from a young age, she is kind-hearted and sincere with others. I wish to betroth her to you as your wife. Are you willing?"

"Willing!" Zhao Ling said hastily, loudly, as if afraid Madam Fu might change her mind. "I am willing!"

Really, this man...

Fu Tingjun's face burned like fire, and she kept her head lowered, not daring to lift it.

Madam Fu smiled with satisfaction and called for Xiuzhu's Wife to prepare the brush and ink. Then she instructed Fu Tingjun, "Help me sit up." She added, "And bring the small wooden board from the table."

Fu Tingjun had no idea what this meant, but she dared not ask. She helped her mother sit up and went to fetch the small wooden board.

Xiuzhu's Wife brought over the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.

Madam Fu spread a sheet of rice paper on the small wooden board, had Fu Tingjun grind the ink, then dipped the brush in it with trembling hands and labored to write characters on the paper.

Fu Tingjun stared at her mother in astonishment.

Madam Fu only smiled without speaking.

After a long while, she finished writing, and with trembling hands handed the paper to Zhao Ling. "This is my daughter's birth data and horoscope. I now entrust it to you."

Zhao Ling kowtowed to Madam Fu, received the paper with both hands, then murmured an apology for the presumption, picked up the brush Madam Fu had used, and wrote his own birth data and horoscope beneath Fu Tingjun's. He handed it back to Madam Fu.

Madam Fu took it, examined it carefully, and a satisfied smile spread across her face. She then returned the paper to Zhao Ling. "Keep it safe. This is the proof."

"Yes!" Zhao Ling replied with reverence, while Fu Tingjun's eyes were already brimming with tears.

"Mother!" She nestled close to her mother's side.

“Good child!” Madam Fu gently stroked her daughter’s hand. “I know you’ve been wronged, and I know you’ve been stubborn since childhood—you won’t rest until you get to the bottom of things. But I want to ask you this: you’ve survived a great calamity and found a good match. Is it worth pursuing this so relentlessly?”

Was her mother also opposed to her uncovering the truth?

She stared wide-eyed at her mother, stunned.

Madam Fu silently watched her daughter, waiting for her answer.

The lampwick crackled and popped with sparks, the flickering light casting shifting shadows across everyone’s faces, making them hard to discern.

Fine beads of sweat formed on Fu Tingjun’s forehead.

After what seemed like an eternity, she spoke in a low voice: “Mother, everyone wants to know who they are, where they came from, and why they ended up here… I’m no different… One day, I’ll become a mother too… If my children ask me, ‘Who was my maternal grandfather? What kind of person was my maternal grandmother? Do I have uncles?’ I want to answer them with dignity, not cover one lie with another… I want to have a mother’s dignity!”