Chapter 62
Chapter 62: Feast of the Black Mist
On the stone bench outside the courtyard, Old Madam rolled her prayer beads between thumb and forefinger, unhurried, her eyelids too heavy to bother lifting.
Her tone was light, almost idle.
Her words were not.
“As for that unruly distant niece of yours,” she said, “you’d better question her properly.”
Then, as if discussing the weather: “What kind of stray cat or dog do you bring into the manor? How, exactly, have you been running this household?”
It sounded calm. Every syllable was a sentence.
Each line was a heated needle driven straight into Madam Wang’s bones, scorching so hard her face twitched.
She was being cursed for poor judgment.
Cursed for lax rule.
Madam Wang’s complexion flushed dark, shame and fury jammed together in her chest until she nearly choked on them. She snapped her head to the side, eyes wild enough to bite, and seized Granny Chen by the arm.
“Where is that little bitch Zheng Xiu Yun?!”
Granny Chen recoiled at her expression and pointed with a trembling chin toward the woodshed.
“L-locked up… This old servant is watching her. She can’t run.”
“Good.”
Madam Wang drew a breath that tasted of iron.
She forced the rage down, but her voice still came out sharp, pitched wrong with strain. “Matron Zhou!”
“Yes, Madam.”
“Pick a few of the strongest old maidservants. Drag that little slut to the Shao Hua Courtyard.”
Her nails dug into her own palm. “The young master is still inside being treated. I’ll interrogate this thing first—see how many lives she thinks she has.”
Matron Zhou stepped out at once, a thin cruelty brightening her eyes. She pointed out several women who handled the roughest work, hands thick with calluses. Their faces were numb with habit; their mouths still knew how to sneer.
They stormed the woodshed together.
Bang.
The already-ruined door flew open under Matron Zhou’s kick.
Zheng Xiu Yun was curled in the corner like a stray dog, shaking so hard her whole body rattled. The exquisite dress she’d worn into the manor was smeared with mud and straw, wrinkled and stuck to her skin. Her bun had collapsed; loose hair clung to her wet cheeks; her rouge was streaked into a frantic mask.
When she saw them, she shrieked and scrambled deeper into the dark.
It didn’t help.
A serving woman seized her by the hair and yanked her out of the straw as if she were hauling a carcass.
“Ah! Let go of me! You filthy servants dare touch me? I’m a cousin miss—”
Smack.
The slap cracked clean and bright across her face.
Matron Zhou shook out her stinging hand, eyes cold with contempt. “Cousin miss?”
Her smile was a thin blade. “A cousin miss who drugs the young master and tries to crawl into his bed? I’ve served in this manor for decades, and this is the first time I’ve seen such a ‘cousin miss.’”
Half of Zheng Xiu Yun’s face went numb. The ringing in her ears swallowed the room.
Before she could wail, two serving women caught her under the arms and hauled her up. Her feet dragged uselessly over stone. Somewhere along the way her embroidered shoes were lost, and her bare, delicate soles scraped raw.
Thin, stuttering lines of blood smeared behind her.
No one pitied her.
Servants along the path stared, then lowered their eyes as if burned. Hands moved faster. Backs bent lower. Everyone was afraid the fire would leap.
One thought sat in every throat like a pebble.
Miss Zheng was finished.
The main hall of the Shao Hua Courtyard pressed down with suffocating silence.
Madam Wang sat in the main seat, rigid as a statue, her face dark enough to wring water from. The killing intent in her gaze felt almost tangible.
Thud.
Zheng Xiu Yun was tossed into the center of the floor like a sack of trash. She lay there, limp and stunned, then clawed her way upright. Ignoring pain, she crawled on her knees toward Madam Wang’s feet, reaching for her hem.
“Aunt! Aunt! Xiu Yun is innocent! That drug wasn’t mine—someone set me up—”
“Shut up!”
Madam Wang slammed her palm onto the table. Teacups jumped and clattered, and tea splashed across the floor.
“The evidence is solid, and you still dare lie to my face?!”
Matron Zhou stepped forward, lifting a small white porcelain vial high like an accusation and presenting it to Madam Wang.
“Madam, look. Her sleeve still has powder stuck to it. The manor’s medical officer has tested it. That filthy thing is called Spring Wind Intoxicant.”
Zheng Xiu Yun stared at the vial. The last color drained out of her face.
She lunged for another target, madness flashing in her eyes. “It was Yao Xiao Man! It had to be that damned maid!”
She fixed on Madam Wang, desperate to drag anyone down with her. “Aunt, think about it—who else stays beside Cousin every day? She swapped my incense and lured Granny Chen to catch it. She wanted to kill two birds with one stone—get rid of me, the cousin miss, and keep Cousin all to herself!”
Madam Wang’s laugh was cold and ugly, more like a sob forced backward. “Keep my son to herself?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Since you entered this manor, has my son ever once looked at you? You think you can compare yourself to that maid? What a joke.”
She leaned forward, voice sharpening. “Granny Chen saw you sneaking medicine into the teapot with her own eyes. Do you think everyone is as stupid as you are?!”
That was the last straw.
Zheng Xiu Yun shook violently—then, in sheer collapse, she threw her head back and laughed. The sound was high, ragged, miserable.
“Yes! Fine! I did it!” Her bloodshot eyes locked onto Madam Wang. “So what?!”
She spat the words like venom. “Aunt, stop pretending! You brought me into this manor because you liked my looks and wanted me to hold onto Cousin Buddhist Scion’s heart for you, didn’t you?! I did it for you—for Cousin’s sake!”
“I… I only wanted to share your burden!”
Madam Wang’s face went paper-white.
The secret she never let past her own lips had been shouted into the hall by a fool who didn’t even understand what she’d signed.
“Drag her out!”
Madam Wang’s voice twisted sharp with fury and panic. “Drag her out! Beat her hard—thirty strokes! When it’s done, send her back to the Zheng family first thing tomorrow. I’ll go myself and ask what the Zheng family did to raise such a shameless, foul-mouthed daughter!”
As if struck by a sudden thought, Zheng Xiu Yun fumbled at her chest and tore out a crumpled lotus sachet, holding it up with shaking hands.
“Aunt! Look! This is my mother’s keepsake! You said you and she had a bond—please, for her sake, spare me this once! I’m your niece!”
Madam Wang’s smile was thin and cruel. “If your dead mother could see how shameless you are, she’d probably die again from rage.”
Zheng Xiu Yun’s breath hitched. She forced herself into stubborn defiance. “I’m an official’s daughter, not a household servant. You can’t just humiliate and beat me as you please. If anyone beats me, it won’t be you!”
“An official’s daughter?” Madam Wang’s gaze cut like ice. “A sixth-rank nobody’s daughter dares to put on airs in front of me? With that filthy heart aimed at my son, I could beat you to death right here and the Zheng family wouldn’t dare utter a word.”
Her voice sank, viciously steady. “This isn’t humiliation. This is teaching you—on behalf of my late cousin—what a ‘good daughter’ looks like.”
Zheng Xiu Yun tried to scream. A rag was stuffed into her mouth before the sound could fully break free.
She was pinned down and dragged out like a slaughtered pig. Her muffled sobs and curses leaked around the cloth in broken fragments, fading as she was hauled farther away.
“Aunt, I was wrong, Aunt…”
“Yao Xiao Man… you’ll die horribly… even as a ghost… I won’t let you go—”
Silence returned to the hall.
Madam Wang turned her head slightly and spoke in a low, icy murmur to Matron Zhou. “After the beating, send her back to the Zheng family.”
Then, colder still: “Tell that second wife exactly how her ‘fine’ daughter used filthy, low tricks in my manor, trying to latch onto power and stain my son’s name.”
“Let her decide for herself whether to marry that disgrace to a butcher or throw her to a beggar. Either way, she has nothing to do with the Wang family anymore. The Wang family cannot afford this shame.”
Matron Zhou’s eyes flashed. She bowed and withdrew.
The room sank into dead quiet. Candlelight sputtered once—crackle—and then steadied.
No one noticed the thin, invisible threads of black qi seeping out with Zheng Xiu Yun’s despair and Madam Wang’s poison, curling upward into the rafters where shadows gathered.
The Heart Demon watched, savoring it like a banquet.
Fight.
Yes.
Harder.
It loved this most—watching a human heart soften, rot, and collapse.
Delicious.