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Ming'er looked uneasy. "Miss, its not going to be easy. You are just a young lady without a mother. If you ask about your mother's dowry and assets left behind by her for you, they'll never let you take anything back. They'll just find ways to call you unfilial. Even the managers and housekeepers personally listens to Madam Su now…"
Shen Yuhan's lips curved faintly, but the smile didn't reach her eyes.
"Then I'll simply have to take what's mine so quietly that by the time they notice, it'll be too late. The board is set. The pieces are moving. And I've already claimed the first corner."
Outside the Osmanthus Courtyard, the snow still fell—soft, relentless, silent.
But inside, the fire had already been lit.
On the other side of the manor…
Inside the Orchid Pavilion, the air was heavy with the lingering fragrance of sandalwood incense. The carved lattice windows allowed a faint stream of moonlight to filter in, casting soft patterns across the polished floor.
After being unconscious for more than three hours, Shen Yulan finally stirred. Her long lashes fluttered before parting, revealing eyes clouded with weakness. A faint groan slipped past her lips as the fever that had plagued her began to ebb away.
"Yulan!" Madam Su, who had been keeping vigil at her bedside, immediately leaned forward, clutching her daughter's hand with trembling fingers. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. "Thank heavens… you're awake at last."
Shen Yulan's pale lips moved, her voice barely audible. "Mother… how did I end up here? Where is Sister?" Her gaze wavered toward Shen Zhirui before she spoke again, timid and pleading. "Father, please… it wasn't Sister's fault. Don't blame her, don't punish her. I beg you, please take it as my request."
Her fever-ridden face, fragile and flushed, her eyes rimmed red and brimming with tears—begging mercy for the very person who had caused all her suffering. Faced with such a sight, how could anyone not feel pity for her?
Shen Zhirui and Lin Zhixuan's expressions shifted exactly as Shen Yulan had intended. Pity welled in their eyes at the sight of her frail, tear-streaked face, while indignation smoldered in their hearts for the supposed cruelty of Shen Yuhan.
To them, Yulan appeared nothing more than a gentle soul, enduring suffering yet still begging mercy for the very one who had wronged her. That fragile voice, laced with grief and devotion, was like a sharp blade—cutting away reason and planting resentment. Neither realized that behind her trembling lashes and weak pleas lay a well-crafted mask, one that skillfully drew them deeper into her snare.
Right on cue, Madam Su also leapt into action. Grasping Shen Yulan's pitifully slender wrist, she wept aloud. "My poor Yulan… Even after suffering so much, you still beg for others. What should I do with you? Why haven't you learned that not everyone deserves your kindness, my child?"
Su Wanning drew her daughter into her arms, her sobs echoing through the room. Yet, where no one could see, a glimmer of satisfaction and pride stirred within her eyes. That's right—her daughter had not let her down. Even in such a state, she knew how to play victim and manipulate others into her favour.
The sight of the mother and daughter weeping in each other's arms was truly pitiful. To the onlookers, it painted a scene of unbearable grief, stirring their hearts with both sorrow and indignation. Their teeth clenched in silent anger, resentment quickly brewing toward the so-called perpetrator.
Shen Zhirui stepped forward, his expression stern. "Your mother is right, Yulan. You don't need to beg for mercy on behalf of those who wrong you—even if they are your own sisters or brothers."
Lin Zhixuan added his voice, his tone laced with concern. "Exactly. Yulan, you mustn't be so forgiving toward Shen Yuhan. The more lenient you are, the bolder she will become, thinking she can continue to hurt you and escape unpunished."
"Father, Brother Zhixuan, thank you for your concern… but truly, I'm fine." Shen Yulan's voice was soft, almost fragile, as she forced a weak smile. Her eyes, still red from both fever and tears, shimmered under the lantern light, making her appear unbearably delicate.
"Please… don't blame Sister for this," she whispered, her trembling lips quivering as though the effort of speaking cost her strength. "I'm certain she didn't mean it. Perhaps… I was careless, or I angered her somehow."
She lowered her gaze, shoulders shaking as though she could barely hold back another wave of tears. "Sister has always been straightforward… but she isn't bad at heart. If there must be blame, then let it fall on me instead."
Her words, though spoken in Shen Yuhan's defense, only sharpened the contrast—making Yulan appear endlessly kind and forgiving, while subtly portraying Shen Yuhan as reckless, cruel, and undeserving of such grace.
"Yulan, say no more!" Shen Zhirui's face darkened, his voice cutting sharply through the room. His expression was hard with suppressed fury as he continued, "You don't need to waste your breath defending that vile child any longer. I've already made up my mind… and I know exactly how to deal with her."
Hearing his resolute words, both Shen Yulan and Su Wanning's faces lit up with barely concealed excitement, but they quickly schooled their expressions into sorrow before anyone could notice. In that fleeting heartbeat, mother and daughter exchanged a knowing glance, then lowered their eyes meekly, masking their satisfaction before turning their attention back to Shen Zhirui.
"But father…" Shen Yulan's weak voice trembled as though caught between fear and reluctance. Her pale fingers clutched at the blanket, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She lowered her head, as if struggling against herself, before whispering hoarsely, "I… I only fear sister will suffer too much…"
She gripped the blanket weakly, as if summoning every ounce of strength to plead again. "Please… don't be too harsh on sister. I… I can bear it. As long as she doesn't hate me, that's enough…"