The Battle of the Noble Ladies (Book 2)

Chapter 163 - Throwing Stones

For the first time, Han Zhi felt the urge to destroy Song Chuyi. Previously, even when he lost to her in their clashes and wished for her death, he was always rational enough to know that she absolutely could not die—her value alive far surpassed anything her death would bring.

Back then, his plans weren't hidden from Zhou Weiqi or Consort Fan, and both had supported him wholeheartedly. Yet, over one single event, within just a few days, they changed their minds without hesitation, disregarding how far along he was with his plans.

Expressionless, he sat behind Lady Fan like a clay idol for half the day. Finally, he stood up abruptly, the sudden noise breaking the silence.

Lady Fan remained seated, unmoved, without so much as glancing back at him. Only after he left the room did she lean forward, supporting herself on her knees to rise. Qiu Ju hurried over to assist her, hesitating several times before finally sighing, "My Lady, you're too indifferent to the heir."

Qiu Ju, now twenty-seven, was older than the other maids in the household. In most families, she'd have long become a housekeeper with a brood of children. But she had pledged to stay by Lady Fan's side, single for life, and it was only around Qiu Ju that Lady Fan ever seemed remotely alive.

Lady Fan took a small sip of the tea Qiu Ju handed her, gazing at the cup in a daze. "And so what? Should he compete with his cousin?"

Besides, there was no guarantee he'd succeed in winning anything; he might only end up tarnishing himself. Just as she had all those years ago... What 'ideal match'? In the end, she was left with nothing but a husband she could barely stand to look at, someone she wished she had never met.

If it hadn't been for Consort Fan, she would never have spent these years in a life neither human nor ghost. They were sisters, yet Consort Fan still went through with it... Qiu Ju harbored her own grievances but knew she was merely a powerless servant, unable to change anything. Lady Fan herself was entirely controlled by Consort Fan, with no room to resist—so how could she?

Yet, she still felt a pang of sympathy for Lady Fan. Years ago, Lady Fan had captivated everyone with her remarkable performance, earning admiration across the land. It was she, not Consort Fan, who the Crown Prince had originally fallen for. But Consort Fan had taken her sister's place and wouldn't even grant Lady Fan's simple wish to return home, forcing her into a marriage with Han Zhengqing. Qiu Ju closed her eyes, unable to dwell on those memories any longer, and crouched down, holding Lady Fan's hand, which was as cold as a corpse's. "Please don't worry; the heir will understand... eventually, he will understand..."

But how could he? Lady Fan shook her head weakly, a bitter smile crossing her lips.

Consort Fan had treated him like her own son since he was young, showing far more care than his real mother. Years of subtle influence had led Han Zhi to believe that she, his own mother, was a cold and heartless figure.

This time, too, it was clearly Consort Fan's intention, but Lady Fan herself had to bear the blame, shouldering the consequences and playing the villain.

She often wondered when such a life would finally end. She remembered that white silk from when she had given birth to her daughter, and a faint sense of regret arose. How much simpler it would have been if she had died back then.

She hadn't smiled in years, and wearing a stern expression had long become the easiest way to look. Now, she sat there blankly for a moment, then slowly withdrew her numb hand from Qiu Ju's grasp and gently patted Qiu Ju's hair. "It won't be long now... Once she has everything she wants, she'll let me go. I'm truly exhausted... When the time comes, you should return home. Your cousin is probably married by now. But don't despair—men are unreliable. Just take your savings and find a peaceful place to live..."

Qiu Ju leaned against her knees, unable to hold back her tears. Han Zhengqing was someone who valued his life immensely; even the slightest cold would have him wishing he could keep the imperial physician at his side at all times. Yet here was Lady Fan, spending every day longing for death, estranged from her children, hoping for a swift end.

She truly felt her lady lived too harshly—a mere tool in Consort Fan's hands, and even her children were meant to give everything for Consort Fan's son...

Lady Fan stared blankly ahead for a moment, as still as a clay statue, before finally snapping out of it and looking down with a faint smile. "Why are you crying? What's there to cry about? Look at me—once you cry enough, the tears stop coming."

Indeed, she had cried back then too. How scared she was back then! A young girl, already devastated by the injustice of being used as a stand-in, only to wake up in a strange man's bed...

In those days, she cried constantly, day and night, until her eyes were nearly blind from the tears. But death wouldn't come; in her desperation, she begged her elder sister to let her go, clinging to the faint hope that her family would come to rescue her.

But she waited and waited, and nothing ever came. Eventually, she learned not to cry anymore, even stopped resenting her parents for their favoritism. She became a living corpse, more like a puppet controlled by strings, cold and dazed, letting Consort Fan dress her up as she pleased, pulling the strings from the shadows.

Qiu He entered from outside, startled by Qiu Ju's quiet sobs. She froze in place, not daring to move. She, too, was one of Lady Fan's trusted maids but was ten years younger than Qiu Ju, only seventeen. She didn't hold as much status as the two gifted by Consort Fan and lacked the years of closeness with Lady Fan that Qiu Ju had, so she always kept to herself, acting cautiously.

Lady Fan's face returned to its usual cold, indifferent expression. She didn't even lift her eyelids as she asked in a low voice, "What is it?"

Qiu He lowered her head, her voice soft yet clear enough for Lady Fan to hear. "The heir... the heir has returned to the capital."

Lady Fan felt a tight pain across her scalp and rubbed her temples, nodding to indicate she understood.

Han Zhi was far too similar to Consort Fan—self-centered and cold-blooded to the extreme. Now that he was displeased, he naturally wanted something to vent his frustrations on. Consort Fan had already entangled herself with Prince Gong and Prince Duan, and now Han Zhi clearly intended to continue adding fuel to the fire.

She couldn't quite tell if her heart had gone completely numb or if she had merely grown desensitized. She continued to finger her prayer beads, one by one, without feeling anything. These matters had never been hers to control; Consort Fan and Han Zhengqing always knew exactly how to keep Han Zhi obedient. She had no say in the matter and could only teach herself to grow colder, colder still. So when disaster struck, it wouldn't hurt as if she were dying all over again.