Chapter 31: All That Happened Yesterday Is as if It Died Yesterday

Madam Zhang was dragged into the courtyard to be flogged. Her outer trousers were stripped away, and heavy, high-quality wooden staves were used. The two eunuchs tasked with the execution were specialists in this craft; they possessed a deft touch, ensuring they wouldn't kill the victim in a single blow, but rather force her to endure the agony slowly.

Dying, inch by agonizing inch.

Having been left out in the cold all night, Madam Zhang was already on the verge of death. She had been kept alive intentionally to be dealt with today in front of everyone.

Clad only in her undergarments, her hair, once impeccably groomed, now hung in disarray. Blood seeped from her back, staining the white fabric a striking, vivid red.

"Godmother, does it hurt?"

Just as her last shred of consciousness was about to slip away, she heard a clear, melodic male voice. It was a voice she knew all too well. She jolted into clarity, struggling to open her eyes.

Hushang stood quietly beside her. His face, pale as snow, wore an expression of concern. He lowered his head slightly, his thick, long lashes casting a shadow as his gaze remained fixed upon her with singular focus. He held no umbrella; snow fell upon him, dampening his clothes.

Madam Zhang looked up, staring blankly at the worried face of Hushang. A sudden joy welled up in her heart. With great difficulty, she raised a hand, stained with her own blood, reaching out to touch his cheek.

Hushang arched a brow, then slapped her hand away. His own hand was smeared with a touch of red; he produced a handkerchief from his robes to wipe it clean, before finally tossing the cloth onto Madam Zhang’s face.

His words were glacial: "Disgusting. You're filthy."

At these words, a flicker of resentment and agony appeared in Madam Zhang’s pupils for the first time. Her lashes grew damp, and her lips trembled uncontrollably.

"You… was it you? Was it?"

Madam Zhang widened her eyes, her voice erupting from the depths of her chest, laced with boundless hatred.

Hushang suddenly burst into laughter, his entire body trembling with the force of it. After a long moment, he stifled his mirth and said coldly, "What are you talking about, Godmother? This was the Master’s command. How could a lowly servant like me dare to question it?"

Madam Zhang understood then. She had not expected that it was truly Hushang who had orchestrated her downfall. She began to struggle frantically, thrashing about like a fish with its tail severed, dying in the dirt—but it was all in vain.

Seeing such a comical display, the two young eunuchs paused their beating and chuckled.

Madam Zhang was no longer young; her contortions etched deep furrows into her pallid face. The scabs on her lips split open, oozing fresh crimson blood, while tears streamed slowly down her cheeks.

She opened her mouth and spoke silently.

No one else heard her.

But Hushang understood the shape of her words. He closed his eyes, and then reached out a hand. Snowflakes, falling like scraps of paper, landed in his palm, melting instantly from the searing heat of his skin.

Madam Zhang had just said that he would surely meet a wretched death.

Hushang curled his lips into a smile. He did not fear death. Having lived so long under Madam Zhang’s thumb, he had often wished to die and be done with it. But if he were to see his father and mother in the afterlife, what would he say?

Could he tell them he had been a plaything for years, and eventually, unable to bear the humiliation, he had ended his own life?

He could not say it. It was too disgusting, too shameful.

Even if he were to die a wretched death later, as long as he was alive now, that was enough.

The snow grew heavier. Hushang stood hurriedly on the veranda, looking out at the layers of blue-tiled eaves in the distance. Melted snow ran down the tiles, forming rows of icicles.

These icicles were precarious; if one fell unexpectedly, it could easily crush a person. Below, young servants were busy using bamboo poles to knock them down.

Servants hurried along the corridor, stealing glances at Hushang but daring not stop or speak to him.

Madam Zhang’s confidants had been dealt with alongside her. The iron-fisted purge had stained the execution yard red, a sight so gruesome that several young maids had fainted at the mere sight of it.

Yet, Hushang, the foster son of Madam Zhang, remained unscathed.

They were filled with suspicion, yet none could know the truth.

Ignoring the prying, curious, and disgusted gazes, Hushang turned and walked away. He had not forgotten how he had found his release. His mind turned to that bright, vivid woman; the memory of her watery eyes—every time they met his, his heart would flutter, though he would quickly suppress it.

A wretch like him, how could he be worthy?

Yet, he was going to thank her.

With this thought, his pace lightened considerably.

Inside, the floor heating was on, and with the braziers and small stoves burning bright, the room was as warm as a spring day. The floor was covered in thick, plush rugs.

Shen Quanyi wore only a single layer of clothing, her bare feet pressing against the rugs as she stood by the window, watching the snowy scene outside. She could faintly hear the sharp, shrill screams of Madam Zhang, which, after a brief moment, faded away into silence.

She withdrew her gaze, bent down, and sat on a soft cushion. She watched as Liu Shi wove a pair of wool mittens. Liu Shi’s fingers, slightly misshapen from years of hard labor, remained nimble, the two wooden needles dancing and weaving with ease.

Qiu Yue looked at the emerging shape of the mittens, her smile growing brighter, her sparkling eyes occasionally resting on Liu Shi’s focused face.

"My, you clever girl, you’ve really managed to charm everyone in the short time you’ve been here. Look at how carefully she’s knitting those mittens for you."

Shen Quanyi laughed, teasing her, but Qiu Yue was only happier. She leaned over and hugged Liu Shi, shaking her so hard she almost dropped her needles. Liu Shi, feigning annoyance, poked Qiu Yue’s forehead.

Qiu Yue gave a playful laugh and continued to coax Liu Shi, the two looking for all the world like a mother and daughter.

Withdrawing her gaze slightly, Shen Quanyi let her eyes fall on the dancing flames in the brazier. She gently lifted her wide sleeves, revealing her fair, round, and delicate arms, and tossed a few sweet potatoes into the fire.

She used a poker to lightly cover them with glowing coals.

Outside in the courtyard, the snow had piled up deep. Walking through it produced a distinctive crunching sound.

Yet, that sound did not disturb those inside. Shen Quanyi squinted, leaning back lazily, holding a jade wine flask and taking an occasional sip.

Qiu Yue watched Shen Quanyi’s movements, unable to hold back any longer. "My Lady, you’ve indulged a bit too much today. You shouldn't drink so much cold wine; you’ll get a stomachache, and then the Master will be worried."

With that, she reached out to snatch the flask, but Shen Quanyi dodged her nimbly.

"You naughty girl, I only get to enjoy myself like this for a little while, and here you are scolding me like an old nursemaid." Shen Quanyi pouted, lightly flicking Qiu Yue’s delicate nose.

The two laughed and played.

Liu Shi was the first to notice the person at the window. She opened her mouth but didn't speak, instead tugging at Qiu Yue. Qiu Yue turned, followed Liu Shi’s gaze, and seeing someone there, went to greet them.

Before her stood Hushang, dressed in white. His clothes were clean and flat, without a single wrinkle. He bowed respectfully, a calm, elegant smile on his handsome face, with not a trace of gloom left in his eyes.