The sound of the mansion's heavy doors closing still echoed long after Song Mei was gone.
Her words hung in the air like smoke — impossible to ignore, impossible to cleanse.
The family sat frozen in the aftermath of her defiance.
No one dared to speak.
Even the servants standing by the corridor had quietly vanished, unwilling to witness the wreckage of what once seemed like an untouchable family.
Old Master Song was the first to move. His hand trembled slightly on his cane before he slammed it against the marble floor.
"Unfilial child!" His voice thundered through the hall. "How dare she speak to her elders like that!"
But his fury couldn't mask the faint tremor in his tone — a sliver of disbelief, of something dangerously close to fear.
Mr. Song quickly rose, bowing slightly toward his father. "Father, please calm down. I'll handle Mei'er. She's… she's just confused."
"Confused?" The old man's eyes flashed like lightning. "She's rebellious! A disgrace! If word of this spreads, the Song family's reputation—"
He stopped, clutching his chest as a sharp cough racked through him.
Madam Song rushed to his side. "Father, please, don't get angry. It's bad for your heart!"
"Heart?" he hissed between breaths. "She's the one tearing it apart!"
But even as he spat the words, there was a flicker of something else in his eyes — doubt. The kind that comes when a man realizes the child he scorned for years now has the courage he never expected.
Mr. Song stood there, staring at the door Song Mei had walked through.
For the first time in years, he looked… uncertain.
He had always been the decisive one — the head of the Song family, the one whose voice ended every argument.
But tonight, he couldn't even speak.
When Song Lei had been accused, he had defended him. When Mei stood her ground, he had punished her.
It was what he had always done — what tradition demanded. But now… something about the way she looked at him before leaving lingered like a wound.
"She's your daughter too," Madam Song whispered softly, as if reading his thoughts. "No matter how angry you are, you can't just—"
"She humiliated this family," he interrupted, his tone forced, almost defensive.
But the words felt empty, even to him.
He rubbed his forehead. "Enough. This discussion ends here. I'll talk to her… later."
He turned away before anyone could see the guilt flicker in his eyes.
Madam Song sat down heavily on the couch, hands trembling as she looked at Song Ning.
Her eyes were swollen from crying, her lips bitten raw.
"Ning Ning," she said softly, reaching for her daughter's hand. "You mustn't blame yourself. What happened… it wasn't your fault."
But Song Ning shook her head, tears spilling silently down her cheeks.
"No, Mother. It was my fault. If I hadn't listened to the others… if I hadn't doubted her…"
Her voice cracked. "She must hate me now."
Madam Song's heart twisted. "She doesn't hate you, child. She's just… hurt."
"Then why did she look at me like that?" Ning's voice rose in desperation. "Like I was a stranger."
Madam Song couldn't answer. Because deep down, she feared Song Mei really did see them as strangers now.
In the corner, Song Lei stood rigid, his knuckles white. The recording still echoed in his ears — his own voice, damning and undeniable.
Every breath he took felt like poison.
Song Feng placed a hand on his shoulder. "Lei, enough for today. You've already made things worse."
"Worse?" Lei snapped, shaking him off. "You saw how she talked to us! Like we were her enemies!"
Feng's tone was calm but firm. "Maybe because that's how we treated her."
The words hit harder than any blow. Lei's lips parted, but no sound came out. His anger faltered — replaced by confusion, regret, and something he couldn't name.
He wanted to defend himself, to shout that he never meant for any of this to happen — that the prank, the whispers, the jealousy, were all supposed to scare her, not destroy her.
But how could he say that now, when Song Mei had walked away, her eyes colder than ice?
"She'll come back," he muttered, almost to himself. "She always does."
Song Feng sighed, looking toward the door. "I wouldn't be so sure this time."
By the time the night deepened, the mansion had fallen silent again.
The rain continued to fall, tapping softly against the windowpanes — a steady rhythm that only made the emptiness louder.
In her room, Song Ning cried herself to sleep.
In his study, Mr. Song stared at a glass of whiskey he couldn't bring himself to drink.
Old Master Song sat in his chair, eyes closed, his hand trembling faintly against the armrest.
Song Lei lay awake, replaying her words in his head — "Expel me if I'm such a disgrace."
And in a dark villa across town, Song Mei stood by her window once more, staring at the same rain that fell on them all.
The lights of the city reflected in her eyes — not soft or sorrowful this time, but sharp and distant.
"They wanted me gone," she whispered to herself. "Now they'll see what happens when I truly disappear."
She turned away, picking up her sketchbook from the floor. The torn page of Song Ning fluttered once before she set it aside and began to draw something new — darker, colder, more beautiful.
The storm outside raged on, ~~~~and the fracture within the Song family widened into something that could never be mended.