The Mad Ҡìղց

Kneel and apologize

Ayana started pacing in the room, her mind working furiously. "The cloak. Its disappearance, the timing... It all feels too deliberate." She looked up at Wanji, her eyes sharp. "What if it was never about the cloak itself but about setting someone up? Creating chaos?"

Niobe's expression hardened. "You think someone planted this whole mess to pit us against each other?"

"It's possible," Lan Xichen said. "We have many enemies, and the weddings were supposed to symbolize unity. What better way to disrupt that than to sow mistrust?"

Before Ayana could respond, the sound of the door opening echoed through the room. A servant appeared, bowing hastily.

"Lady Ayana, Master Niobe," the servant said, her voice trembling. "Madam Yu requests your presence immediately in the main hall. It's... urgent."

Ayana exchanged a wary glance with Niobe. "Did she say why?"

The servant hesitated, then shook her head. "No, but... Master Jiang Cheng is already there."

Ayana's stomach dropped. Whatever was unfolding, it wasn't going to wait.

"Let's go," Lan Qiren said, his voice steady despite the unease curling in his gut.

They all nodded, and together they followed the servant, stepping into the unknown storm waiting ahead.

Xichen leaned close to Ayana, his voice barely above a whisper. "I will ask around discreetly. The slaves may have seen something, though it's unlikely anyone would dare to speak freely."

Ayana nodded, her expression unwavering. "Do what you must. The truth must come to light." I have a feeling there's more to this than meets the eye." Her voice was calm, but her eyes betrayed her determination. Her family came first, no matter the consequences.

Wei Ying, standing just a pace behind them, clenched his fists tightly at his sides. "I don't trust any of this," he muttered, his tone heavy with sadness. "Whoever pointed at the clothes under the bed, and then at Wanji... None of it feels right. It's too convenient."

Lan Xichen placed a steadying hand on Wei Ying's shoulder. "I will look into it," he assured him. But even as he spoke, his gaze shifted toward his father, whose stoic face offered no reassurance. Mrs. Lan, walking silently nearby, was deep in thought, already considering the lengths she might need to go to protect her family.

When they entered the great hall, the sight before them was as unsettling as the tension they carried. Madam Yu sat beside her husband, Jiang Fengmian, her demeanor composed as though nothing had happened to her daughter. But the faint quiver of her lips betrayed her anger. Opposite her, Mrs. Jin looked like a shadow of herself, her eyes red and swollen from hours of crying. Jin Guangshan sat in his chair, his fury barely concealed beneath a mask of calm.

Jiang Fengmian was the first to break the silence. His voice, though steady, carried the weight of heartbreak. "Let us get straight to the point. Wanji, I know you wouldn't do this... but we need to find out who did."

Jin Guangshan's composure cracked. "What do you mean?" he demanded, his voice rising. "If you know he wouldn't do it, why are we here? Wanji should swear before a deity that he didn't kill my son and his wife!"

Mrs. Jin, overcome with grief, burst into tears again. "He must! He must swear it!" she cried.

"That can be arranged," Lan Qiren said firmly. "I know my son would never—"

"I don't need all that," Madam Yu interrupted coldly. "I just need him to kneel before me and apologize." Her voice was sharp, like the crack of a whip.