A suffocating silence enveloped the courtyard.
The weight of Hua Jing’s words had crashed over the guests like a tidal wave, leaving them drowning in disbelief. Faces were pale, mouths gaped open in shock, and an eerie stillness settled over the crowd as the full implication of what had just been revealed began to sink in.
Murder.
Mistresses of noble houses often dealt with concubines or lowborn won in ways that maintained their dignity—perhaps exile, a quiet dismissal, or at worst, disgrace. But for Chen Li to have outright killed a woman?
That was unthinkable.
The whispers began—soft at first, then rising like a chorus of condemnation.
"She killed her..."
"This woman—how could she..."
"Hua Jing’s mother was just a maid, but to murder her?"
"A noblewoman with blood on her hands..."
Nobles who had once viewed Chen Li as the perfect example of an elegant and dignified matriarch now looked at her as if she were a monster. The very foundation of her status, her carefully cultivated image of grace and wisdom, was crumbling before her eyes.
Chen Li’s fingers dug into the folds of her sleeve, her breath uneven.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
This wasn’t supposed to ever co to light.
Her hands trembled slightly as she turned to face Hua Ming Rong. His face was drained of color, his body stiff like a man who had just been struck by a killing blow.
The disbelief in his eyes made her stomach twist.
"Chen Li," Hua Ming Rong said, his voice hoarse, as if speaking was difficult. "Did you... did you really kill Xiao ng?"
Chen Li turned to him slowly, staring as if he had just asked the most absurd question in the world.
And then—
She laughed.
A hollow, disbelieving sound.
"Husband," she whispered, her voice laced with cold amusent. "Are you seriously asking this? Now?"
Hua Ming Rong stiffened.
Chen Li tilted her head, a bitter smile curling her lips.
"You, who told that everything would be alright?" she said softly. "You, who assured that I had done the right thing? That the annoying woman had finally left our lives?"
Hua Ming Rong’s breath caught.
The words struck him like a blade, exposing him before the crowd.
Chen Li watched as the weight of her words settled in, watched as nobles turned to look at him now, their expressions filled with judgnt.
Oh, how convenient it was for him to act innocent now.
How utterly cowardly.
Her lips curled in disgust.
And yet—what did it matter? The damage had already been done. The perfect façade she had built over the years had shattered into irreparable pieces.
But what enraged her the most...
What enraged her the most...
Was the girl standing before her.
The girl she should have gotten rid of that night.
The girl she had underestimated.
Her fingernails bit into her palm as she turned her gaze back to Hua Jing.
You should have died that night just like your wretched mother...
But no.
Instead, she had survived. And now, she was tearing them all apart!
The weight of Hua Jing’s suffering unraveled before everyone.
The nobles didn’t just see a young woman revealing a tragic past.
They saw the reality of what she had endured—growing up under the care of the woman who had murdered her mother, being forced to live in the sa house, being raised by the very people who had stolen everything from her.
And to make matters worse—
She had not been treated with kindness.
"She lived under her murderer’s roof..."
"Raised by the woman who wanted her gone..."
"How much did she suffer all these years?"
The realization settled heavily upon them.
Chen Li had taken Hua Jing in, but she had never cared for her. From the mont she had stepped into that household, her life had been one of quiet tornt.
And at the heart of that tornt—
Hua Ling.
Hua Jing’s so-called sister, who had spent years ensuring that she was treated like a stain in the household.
Hua Ling’s face had gone pale as a sheet.
She opened her mouth to speak—to deny, to defend herself, to do sothing—but before she could, the voices around her grew louder.
"I always thought Hua Jing was timid, but was it because she was forced to be?"
"Hua Ling always told us she was troubleso, but... was she the one being wronged?"
"The way she’s been treated all these years..."
The world was closing in.
Hua Jing took a step back.
The mont the weight of her words left her lips, an overwhelming lethargy settled over her body.
It was as if sothing had finally been lifted off her shoulders.
For so many years, she had carried this burden, kept this truth buried deep inside of her.
And now, it was out in the open.
The heavy chains that had bound her for so long had finally broken.
She exhaled—
And suddenly, her vision blurred.
Her body swayed slightly, and just as she felt herself falling—
A pair of strong, warm hands caught her.
She blinked.
Her gaze lifted, and she found herself staring into a familiar face.
Zhao Yan.
His expression was unreadable, but his grip on her was steady, secure. His golden eyes, usually filled with indifference, now held sothing else.
Sothing gentle.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly.
Hua Jing’s breath caught.
Sothing deep within her stirred—a mory, hazy but persistent.
A boy, not much older than her.
A golden mask.
A small, trembling hand holding hers in the snow.
Her heart pounded.
There was only one person she knew who often wore a golden mask.
Zhao Yan.
A strange, unexplainable emotion rose in her chest, threatening to consu her.
The hatred she once held toward him—the bitterness, the resentnt—suddenly felt... misplaced.
For the first ti, she couldn’t find a concrete reason to hate him.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.
"There’s no need to cry," Zhao Yan murmured, his voice as warm as his hands. "They’re not worth it."
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