When he was better, he would go to the manor and seize someone himself.
Thunder rumbled outside again.
It had been sunny in the morning, but by afternoon, the sky was overcast.
When Xie Yushu returned, Xizhi Mammy had already tidied the ravaged room.
If the Fanlou errand boys hadn’t come to collect the dishes and found only broken shards, Xizhi Mammy would have tried to hide what happened.
For the first time since coming to this world, Xie Yushu was truly angry—angry at the Pei mother and son for their bullying and waste, and angry at Xizhi Mammy for even thinking of enduring it.
Endure?
Not a chance!
Xie Yushu sat in her bridal chamber and ordered Jin Ye and Yin Ya to pack up all of Pei Shilin’s belongings and send them to his study.
She tipped the Fanlou errand boys but refused to pay for the broken dishes, telling them to get the money from the Pei mother and son—whoever broke them should pay.
Seeing her so angry, Xizhi Mammy felt sad and knelt by the table to apologize.
Xie Yushu had no choice but to help her up, but Xizhi clung to her hand, tears falling.
“Miss Yushu, how could I not know you’re suffering? But…please, let me give you some advice. With the old madam of the Yong’an Marquis Manor gone, there’s no one to stand up for you.”
Xizhi sobbed.
“If the Pei mother and son catch you in a mistake and send you away, you…you’ll have nowhere to go…”
She couldn’t finish, but Xie Yushu understood—
Xizhi was enduring all this for her sake.
Why did Xie Yushu, in the original story, end up so tormented and never dare resist Pei Shilin?
Because the Yong’an Marquis Manor would neither support her nor take her back if she was divorced.
If she were dismissed, she could only return to her mother, the Outsider-born Concubine, which would be like falling back into the mud.
She’d have the reputation of an unfaithful, cast-off woman, be pointed at and scorned, and neither she nor her mother had any means to make a living.
“To say something discouraging, what married woman doesn’t suffer at her mother-in-law’s hands? Miss, please endure for now—don’t spend money recklessly, save up for the future,”
Xizhi said, feeling hopeless at the thought of Miss spending her life in such a place.
“Get up,”
Xie Yushu pulled her up, sighing at her tear-streaked face.
“The more you endure, the more resentment builds. Haven’t I endured enough? Do people bully me because I’m not patient enough? No—it’s because they think I’m easy to bully. But now I’m not easy to bully anymore.”
She wiped Xizhi’s tears.
“From now on, I’ll be my own support. You all should be on my side—you have to trust me.”
Xizhi nodded repeatedly.
“I trust you, Miss, but…”
“No buts.”
Xie Yushu cut her off.
“Just wait and see—by tonight, no one in the Pei Mansion will have an easy time.”
She glanced at the gloomy sky.
Song Jie must be about to fall ill again, right?
After tasting sweetness, pain becomes all the harder to bear.
“Prime Minister!”
Cang Shu rushed into the bedroom, kicked over the incense burner, and snatched the burning pinewood from Song Jie’s hand.
Grabbing his hand, he saw the palm was a bloody, burned mess.
“Doesn’t it hurt?”
But Song Jie seemed immune to the pain in his palm, lips blue from cold, bones aching and itching from the chill seeping in, as if a hundred ants were gnawing at him.
Cang Shu expertly tended to the burn, brows knit in worry.
He was a beggar rescued by Song Jie, and had watched the young Song Jie suffer this poison every year—every summer, the attacks would last at least seven days.
It was too much to bear.
Back then, Song Jie could at least rely on Miss Jia Ning for some relief…
Panpan whimpered at the bedside, as if sensing Song Jie’s pain.
Cang Shu tried to pry open his mouth to pour in medicine, but found Song Jie had bitten his lips bloody from the pain.
“Young Master.”
His eyes reddened as he called Song Jie by his old address: “Please, call for Xie Miss—even if you pretend she’s Miss Jia Ning for now, wouldn’t you feel a little better?”
Maybe it was that name that made Song Jie open his eyes.
His gaze, misty with cold like frosted glass, flickered.
His bloodied palm twitched—so cold, so cold that he longed for the warmth of that cheek in his palm from last night…
It was nearly dark when Pei Shilin finally dragged his exhausted body home.
He’d been busy all day on his brother’s behalf, and had only just stepped through the door when Fanlou’s bill was handed to him—demanding payment for the broken dishes.
Since it was his mother who’d smashed them, he had no choice but to pay.
He didn’t expect that, upon entering his study, he’d find all his clothes and bedding dumped onto the side couch.
Li Huixian, fuming, followed behind, cursing Xie Yushu, saying no woman in the world would dare drive out her husband!
She must be eyeing that high branch, the Song Prime Minister, her heart gone wild…
Pei Shilin was already irritable, and hearing this only stoked his anger.
He barked,
“Enough!”
Why had he sent his new bride to serve another man?
Wasn’t it to save her useless son?
It was the first time Li Huixian had been scolded like this by her son.
She was shocked and furious—she should never have let Pei Shilin marry this concubine’s daughter.
If only Xie Jia Ning were still around, Shiyuan would have married a true marquis’s daughter and wouldn’t have to beg for help saving Shibin!
It would’ve taken just a word from Miss Jia Ning!
She grit her teeth and held back, personally handing her son a cup of tea from Madam Lianxiang, and cautiously asked,
“Well? That family still won’t drop the case? They insist on pressing charges against Shibin? He’s been locked up for almost a month now—when will he get out? Who knows how much he’s suffered in jail…”
Pei Shilin held his aching forehead, hating his mother’s foolishness for spoiling his brother: “They only have one son, who was driven to death by your son, and you’re still worried about your boy suffering a little?”
“It wasn’t Shibin who killed him—their son owed money…”
Li Huixian tried to defend her son, but Madam Lianxiang gently tugged her sleeve, signaling her to stop.
She had to swallow her anger and ask,
“Has the Song Prime Minister said anything? Didn’t he promise to help? Should we send someone to ask…”
She couldn’t finish before Pei Shilin shot her a cold glare.
Li Huixian grew even angrier, unable to hold back: “We even sent Xie Yushu to the Prime Minister’s Mansion—how could Song Prime Minister go back on his word? Are we just supposed to swallow this loss?”
“Haven’t we lost enough face?”
Pei Shilin slammed the table, his face turning green, about to vent all his rage.
At that moment, the gate boy came running in, reporting breathlessly,
“The Prime Minister’s Mansion’s carriage is at the back gate again—the one called Cang Shu is here, asking for—asking for Madam to come over…”
Pei Shilin couldn’t hold back anymore.
He shot up, storming out like a god of fury.
Li Huixian tried to stop him, but couldn’t, and chased after him in fear.
They saw Pei Shilin burst out the back gate and shout at the waiting servant, Cang Shu,
“Go back to the Prime Minister’s Mansion and tell Song Jie—don’t go too far! Xie Yushu is my new bride!”
Cang Shu’s face was cold as ice, betraying no emotion.
He simply tossed a bundle at Pei Shilin’s feet.
The bundle came undone, spilling out a set of bloodstained clothes and a clump of black hair.
Pei Shilin’s mind buzzed.
He heard his mother scream behind him, followed by her terrified sobs: “Those are Shibin’s clothes…What have they done to Shibin?!”
In the midst of her cries, Cang Shu said calmly to the bloodless Pei Shilin,
“Young Master Pei, our Prime Minister is only inviting Madam Pei for a conversation. You’d best not misunderstand.”