Startled, Shen Yulan pressed herself against Su Wanning, missing the way her mother tensed beneath the weight of the moment.
"F-Father…" she began softly, her voice trembling like a fragile thread.
"Enough," Shen Zhirui interrupted sharply. "Since neither of you is injured, and there's no clear evidence of who pushed whom, let's put this matter to rest."
Then, perhaps realizing his harsh tone, he softened his expression as he turned to Shen Yulan. "You're sisters—there's no need to make a fuss over petty quarrels, right, Yulan?" Though phrased as a question, everyone in the hall knew it was anything but.
A father's love, when too obviously biased, could easily become a double-edged sword.
Shen Yulan had known that truth since childhood. She lowered her gaze, a picture of meekness, and nodded obediently, wearing the same gentle mask she always had. "Father is right. I don't feel wronged at all, even if sister had wronged me a little. I know in my heart, sister didn't mean it." She turned to Shen Yuhan, eyes wide with innocent sorrow. "Isn't that so, Sister?"
Though momentarily confused by Shen Zhirui's shift in demeanor, Shen Yulan knew better than to question it. Swallowing her dissatisfaction, she slipped seamlessly into the role she had spent years perfecting: the kind, forgiving younger sister.
Out of sight from the others, Shen Yulan cast a smug sidelong glance at Shen Yuhan, her eyes gleaming with silent provocation—See? Even if I wronged you, they'll always believe me. To them, you'll always be the jealous, bitter sister bullying her gentle, innocent sibling.
But Shen Yuhan had long since seen through Shen Yulan's tricks. She didn't bother responding. She already knew—no matter how loudly she cried her innocence, no one in this house would believe her. To them, she would forever be the proud, willful daughter who refused to admit fault.
She scoffed at Shen Yulan's smug look and turned her gaze toward the doors, where snowflakes danced in the cold silver moonlight—so free, so far from this place.
Being ignored by her usual prey, Shen Yulan bit her lip, hatred flashing briefly in her eyes before she replaced it with a quiver and a well-timed sniffle.
Her body, always frail from a premature birth, was now beginning to succumb to the cold. After being drenched in freezing water and left in wet clothes for so long, her fever had started to burn, and dizziness clouded her mind.
Just when it seemed the storm had passed, and everyone believed the farce had finally come to an end, Shen Yulan staggered.
Her steps faltered, delicate fingers rising to clutch her temple as if the world had suddenly tilted beneath her feet. A faint gasp escaped her lips.
"Ah…"
"Yulan!"
"Shen Yulan!"
Lin Zhixuan immediately catched her slender body before she would collapsed.
Madam Su and Shen Zhirui also stepped forward.
Lin Zhixuan's brows knit in distress as he felt the fever radiating from her skin. "She's burning up," he said sharply. "I'll take her to her chamber. Master Shen, Madam Su—please send for the physicians immediately."
Without waiting for a reply, he lifted Shen Yulan with practiced ease, holding her close as he strode toward the inner courtyard, his jaw tight with urgency. He didn't even bother to glance towards Shen Yuhan, his official fiancee.
"What are you all standing around for? Go and call the physicians—now!" Madam Su barked at the stunned servants, her voice sharp with panic.
Her tone left no room for hesitation, and the servants scattered in a flurry of movement.
Gathering her skirts, Madam Su hurried after Lin Zhixuan, with Shen Zhirui close behind. Shen Zhirui's expression mirroring his wife's worry for their beloved daughter.
Yet even in their panic, the couple didn't forget to glance back—casting a sharp glare at Shen Yuhan, the very reason their beloved daughter was suffering.
Shen Yuhan, having heard the commotion, slowly turned her head—only to see her so-called fiancé cradling the very girl who had brought ruin to her life... and in the end, taken it.
Her lips curled into a cold, wicked smile.
Her gaze shifted from the disappearing figure in Lin Zhixuan's arms to her father—Shen Zhirui—who was already glaring at her with thinly veiled contempt. Once, in the past, the old Shen Yuhan would have panicked beneath that stare, trembling in fear, desperate to make things right and gain his favour.
But now?
She didn't even bother to hide the mockery in her smile.
The defiance in her eyes only deepened Shen Zhirui's fury. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing. There was no time to deal with the daughter who had become unreasonable and unruly overnight. With a final warning glare, sharp as a blade, he turned and followed after his wife and younger daughter, disappearing from the hall without a word.
Qi Yanzhou and the other servants trailed behind, but not before casting a glance at Shen Yuhan. Their gazes were a mix of unspoken judgment: some looked on with silent pity, others with contempt, and most with hollow indifference—as if she wasn't even worth mockery and contempt.
Left alone in the vast, echoing grand hall, Shen Yuhan finally allowed her tightly coiled nerves to unravel.
No matter how fearless she had been in her past life, being betrayed, killed—and then waking up inside a novel she had casually read months ago—was not something anyone could truly be prepared for.
But now that fate had given her a second chance—another life in another world—she had no intention of wasting it.
With a graceful flick of her sleeves, Shen Yuhan brushed back her hair, her eyes narrowing with steely determination.
Remembering the tragedy and betrayal the original Shen Yuhan had endured, she whispered a vow to herself, each word etched with cold resolve:
"Don't worry, Miss Shen. If I don't make those who wronged you pay with their lives, then I am unworthy of the name—Shen. Yu. Han."
The echo of her words faded into the silence of the grand hall, but the fire in her heart burned brighter than ever.
With deliberate steps, she turned away from the empty hall and began walking, her footsteps echoing softly across the polished floor.