We drove through the night toward Wu Chi, arriving just as dawn bled into the horizon. The air was still and cold, the road dimly lit by the rising light. As soon as we turned onto the private drive, dread began to curl in my chest.
Mu Shiyang noticed. “We agreed on our story, right?” he said quietly, his voice steady but tense. “As long as we speak with one voice, they won’t know what we’ve been doing.”
I nodded, trying to steady my breathing. The car turned another corner, and the first courtyard wall came into view, its lamps still burning. We passed the sentry post, and then—there it was—the mansion, every window blazing with light. At this hour, that could only mean one thing: something serious had happened. And I knew that something was me.
Tears pricked at my eyes. Mu Shiyang gently patted my back and whispered, “Don’t be afraid, we’re fighting with our backs to the water.”
I forced myself to sit upright, swallowing hard. When the car stopped in front of the house, Director Liang was already there to open the door. Seeing me, he let out a long sigh of relief. “Young Miss.”
I nodded faintly and stepped out of the car. Mu Shiyang followed close behind as we walked into the living room. My throat tightened painfully.
Father stood in the center of the room, hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable. Behind him stood Uncle Lei, Director Shi, Secretary You, Grandfather Mu, and Uncle He—all of them watching us with solemn faces. But Father’s gaze burned the fiercest. His eyes were like blades, cutting through me until I felt exposed to the bone.
Mu Shiyang tried to speak. “Sir—”
Father’s glare silenced him. I had never seen him look so terrifying; veins bulged across his temples, his entire face trembling with suppressed rage.
“Good!” he hissed through clenched teeth. “You two are something. Truly capable!”
He turned his murderous gaze to Mu Shiyang. “You’re quite capable, aren’t you!”
My body shook.
Then Father’s voice exploded like thunder. “Nan Nan! Upstairs! Now!”
I looked around frantically for help, but no one moved. Uncle Lei didn’t dare intervene—Mu Shiyang was his nephew. Uncle He managed a weak “Sir…” before Father’s glare froze him in place.
Father turned and marched upstairs. I had no choice but to follow. I glanced back once; Mu Shiyang gave me a quick wink of encouragement before I disappeared up the stairs.
Father entered the study without a word. I followed him in.
“Tell me yourself,” he demanded. “Where did you run off to?”
Before I could answer, a soft, lilting voice spoke from behind me.
“Come now, why are you getting so angry talking to your daughter? Dr. Cheng said your blood pressure is high. You shouldn’t get upset.”
I turned sharply—it was her. She stood poised in the doorway, dressed in a dark blue qipao with a floral pattern and a matching gemstone brooch at her collar. Her smile was calm, polished, and venomous.
“The young miss has finally returned,” she said sweetly.
Father’s face darkened further. “How dare you come in without knocking? No manners at all!”
She flushed slightly, then turned her syrupy smile toward me. “Nan Nan, did you enjoy yourself out there? How did you get so caught up in the fun that you forgot to come home? Spending the night out with a man, tsk tsk…”
It was as if she had poured oil onto fire.
Father’s eyes flashed like steel. He turned to her, his voice cold as ice. “Get out. My daughter is none of your concern.”
Humiliated, she stiffened. “Murong Qingyi, I won’t stand for this! Don’t try to intimidate me with your posturing! I kindly came to show concern for your precious daughter, and you bite the hand that feeds you?”
Father’s lips curled into a smile—a terrible one. It was the kind of smile that came when anger reached its limit. When he spoke again, his voice had turned sharp, slipping into his native dialect. “Ten three points! Don’t pretend to understand what you don’t!”
“How do I not understand?” she shot back, her defiance trembling. “Tell me then!”
Father’s nostrils flared, but he said nothing. She mistook his silence for weakness and sneered. “That’s right. I can’t compare to her in any way. I’m not as pretty, I don’t know how to scheme, I don’t know how to seduce people—but at least I haven’t given you a bastard child—”
The crack of the slap echoed like a gunshot.
Half her face reddened instantly. Stunned, she stared at him, tears spilling only after a few seconds.
Father trembled with rage. “Get out! Get far away from here! If I ever hear such words again, I’ll skin you alive—and that tennis coach of yours too!”
She stumbled back in terror and fled.
But Father’s fury hadn’t burned out. He seized a ruler from the desk, his voice breaking with wrath. “Today I’m going to beat this senseless thing to death!”
I was frozen with shock. The first blow came before I could move. Fire shot through my arm. I whimpered, raising my hands to protect myself.
“You senseless thing!” he roared. “Have your wings grown so strong? You dare to defy your escort and run off to play? Are my words nothing to you?”
Two more blows landed. I sobbed, shrinking away, but he only struck harder.
“I’ll beat you to death! Spare me the humiliation! Running off with a man for the night—who taught you such vulgarity?”
Each word struck harder than the ruler. My heart bled with every syllable. I could barely see through my tears. Finally, the words escaped me in a broken cry: “Go ahead and beat me to death!”
He froze for a heartbeat—then exploded.
“You think I don’t dare? Without you, I’d finally have peace! Without you, I wouldn’t live in shame!”
His roar filled the room. Outside, someone knocked urgently. “Sir! Sir!”
“Who dares come in?!” Father thundered.
Secretary You burst in anyway, pale with fear. “Sir, please!”
Father shoved him aside and raised the ruler again. Secretary You ran out, shouting for help. Within moments, Uncle He, Uncle Lei, and Grandfather Mu rushed in. They tried to hold Father back, but he fought like a man possessed.
“Sir! Stop!” they cried.
“I’ll beat this wretched child to death!” Father bellowed.
My cries grew hoarse. “Let him beat me to death! After all, I’m just a vulgar thing like my mother! I’m not his child!”
The room went deathly silent.
Father’s face drained of color. His hand trembled as he pointed at me. “You…”
Then he collapsed backward.
The world fell apart.
“Sir!” Uncle Lei shouted, dropping to his knees, loosening Father’s collar. “Quick! Call Dr. Cheng!”
People rushed in. Voices overlapped in panic. I tried to reach him, but someone held me back. The noise blurred; my tears fell soundlessly.
They forced me to my room. Through the chaos, I heard engines, hurried footsteps, and the cry for a doctor. Someone tended my bruises, but I could only whisper, “What about Father? What about Father?”
The doctor shook his head. “Dr. Cheng has arrived.”
I struggled, desperate. “Let me see him!”
“Sedate her!” someone shouted.
I fought, screamed—but the needle pricked, the world dimmed, and everything faded into darkness.
When I opened my eyes again, night had fallen. A pale blue lamp glowed beside the bed. The nurse was asleep on the couch. The silence pressed down like a weight.
I pulled the IV from my arm and slipped out of bed barefoot.
The corridor was dim and endless. I ran to the master bedroom—empty. The bed was untouched. I ran to the study—no one. Cold sweat drenched my back.
Downstairs, I saw Director Liang approaching. “Young Miss.”
I grabbed his arm desperately. “Where is Father? Where have you taken him?”
He hesitated. “Sir has gone to Shuangqiao.”
My vision blurred. “How is he?”
“He’s fine now. Dr. Cheng said it was just anger—high blood pressure. One injection and he’s stable.”
My knees gave way, and the world went black again.
After that night, everything changed. Father and I rarely saw each other. He spoke little when he did come home, and I never dared mention that night again. But Mu Shiyang paid the price—Uncle Lei had him transferred to Pumen Base, demoted six ranks to chief of staff.
I was sick with guilt. “It’s all my fault,” I told my aunt when she visited.
She shook her head. “Your father is still angry. Don’t pull the tiger’s whiskers.”
“I’ve ruined him,” I murmured. “A pool fish scorched by Father’s anger.”
My aunt laughed. “Don’t say that to him. If you do, Shiyang will end up demoted to Java.”
I sighed. “Father’s punishing the innocent.”
She smiled faintly. “Any father who finds out his daughter spent the night out with a man would want to kill him. Your father was showing mercy to the Mu family. Before he could even give the order, Minister Lei had already sent Shiyang away.”
I remembered Father’s eyes that night—how murderous they looked—and I shuddered.
“When I heard,” my aunt said softly, “I was shocked. You don’t know… in those days, your father was just—” She stopped.
I stared at her. “Just what? Was it about my mother?”
Her face hardened. “I don’t know anything.”
I caught her hand. “Aunt, please. You’ve always cared for me the most. Tell me. I have a right to know.”
She shook her head. “You’re imagining things.”
I whispered, “I know I’m not Father’s daughter. I’m the shame of this family—his shame. He hates me, he wants me gone.”
“Nan Nan!” she cried, pulling me into her arms. “How can you think that? He loves you the most. You just don’t know how much.”
I shook my head. “I only know he doesn’t want to see me.”
She stroked my hair. “You don’t understand. You look too much like your mother. He told me once, ‘That child’s eyes are killing me.’ Every time he sees you, he sees her—and it hurts too much.”
Half-believing, half-doubting, I whispered, “Because I’m not his daughter?”
“Nonsense!” She kissed the bruise on my forehead. “You are the pearl of our Murong family. Your father’s treasure.”
“But he said he wanted to beat me to death.”
She looked at me with tears in her eyes. “He was furious, not thinking clearly. You didn’t see him afterward. When you were asleep, he refused to rest until he saw you himself. When he did, and found you safe, only then would he sleep. You don’t know how afraid he was… afraid you would…”
She stopped again, pressing her lips together.
I gazed at her, waiting.
She sighed and whispered, “Ah, Nan Nan… you are so much like your mother.”
My mind was chaos.
I didn’t believe what my aunt said, yet part of me desperately hoped she was right. Father—stern, towering Father—afraid? Impossible. He had always stood above the world, unmoved by its storms. People feared him; even the brilliant Mu Shiyang bowed before his will. What could such a man possibly fear?
Aunt stayed for dinner before leaving, and I sat alone as night deepened, thoughts spinning like fallen leaves. I must have dozed off, for when I opened my eyes, it was already late. The curtains were half drawn, and light from passing cars swept across the wall.
Father had returned.
I sprang from bed, ran to the window. There he was, stepping out of the car. I hurried to the stairs and waited. When he came up, the smell of alcohol preceded him. His face was flushed red—he must have been drinking with one of the uncles.
Seeing me, he frowned.
“Why aren’t you asleep? Standing here like this?”
I licked my lips. “Can I talk to you?”
His brows furrowed deeper. “Not even wearing shoes. What kind of behavior is that? Go put them on!”
Was this the same father my aunt said loved me? I didn’t believe her anymore. My temper rose, stubborn and hot. “This is how I am.”
Father’s voice hardened. “You wait up in the middle of the night just to talk back? Do you want another beating?”
The memory hit me like a blow—the ruler striking my skin, his voice gritted between teeth: ‘I’ll beat you to death!’
My body trembled, but I met his eyes. “I’m not afraid. Go ahead—beat me to death. After all, I’m just a vulgar thing!”
He shook, his anger nearly tangible. “Fine! You nearly killed me from rage before, wasn’t that enough? How did I ever give birth to such a thing? Why didn’t I strangle you for some peace!”
I whispered, “I’m not your child.”
He froze. For a moment, I feared he’d collapse again, but he didn’t. His breathing turned heavy, uneven. No slap came. He just stood there, staring at me as though I were something unrecognizable. His voice came low, trembling.
“Was it Su Su who called you back? Did she send you here to question me? To take revenge? She wants to reclaim what she lost, doesn’t she?”
The dread in his voice sent a chill through me. His flushed face, bloodshot eyes—he looked nothing like the unshakable man I knew.
“She wants to get back everything she suffered, doesn’t she?” he repeated, his voice breaking.
I stared at him, terrified. Then he turned his face away, pain etched across it. “You think I was harsh, that you hate me—but Su Su, you don’t know…”
He was drunk, I thought. I should call an attendant. “Father—”
But he interrupted, his tone hoarse. “Nan Nan, I beat you. You must hate me, just like your mother did, right?”
I swallowed hard. “Oh, Father… I don’t hate you.”
He didn’t seem to hear. “You do. You hate me—like your mother. You don’t know how afraid I am… afraid you’ll become like her. Every night, I could only sleep after seeing you safe. You don’t know how cruel your mother was… she drove straight into death… she hated me that much…”
His voice cracked. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know she hated me until then. You were crying in your room, she didn’t even look back. She drove away, didn’t know how to drive—she meant to die. She used death to prove her hatred.”
He looked at me, eyes hollow. “You were crying so loudly, but she didn’t want me. She didn’t want you either.”
My heart clenched. The mighty father I knew—reduced to despair. Truly afraid. Truly broken. I wanted to cry but didn’t. I couldn’t bear his voice any longer.
“Sir is drunk,” I told the attendant who came running. “Help him back to his room.”
He didn’t resist. When they led him away, I stood alone in the corridor. The chandelier’s light fractured through crystal and struck my face until my eyes burned. My cheeks itched; when I lifted my hand, it came away wet.
I was crying.
The next afternoon, Father called.
“Come with me to Uncle Hou’s house for dinner. Dress properly, fix your hair—don’t look a mess.”
I was stunned. Father had never once cared how I dressed. Since Grandmother’s passing, attendants handled everything. Even at formal events, he never instructed me so personally. Why did he care now?
When he hung up, unease filled me. What kind of dinner required such precision?
I told A-Zhu to open the wardrobe. If Father insisted, I had no choice but to obey. I picked an apricot-yellow satin qipao embroidered with silver begonia threads and asked Aunt Feng to arrange my hair. My reflection looked older than my years—elegant, but lifeless. Still, Father’s generation valued restraint over charm.
Before six, the attendants’ car arrived. They said Father would come later. I was to go ahead. Reluctantly, I obeyed.
At least Hou Mingyou, my childhood senior, would be there.
Father didn’t arrive until nearly eight. The dinner began as soon as he stepped in. The Hou family, steeped in old-world grace, served exquisite Suzhou dishes that even Father praised. The meal was almost peaceful.
Then Father, smiling faintly, said, “Nan Nan, play something for us.”
I froze. “I didn’t bring my violin.”
Uncle Hou laughed. “We have a Stradivarius here. Mingyou, fetch it.”
I was cornered. The instrument they brought gleamed like amber. I tested its sound—then, without thinking, began Butterfly Lovers.
Realizing what I’d done, I panicked. That song was forbidden at home. Once, when an orchestra played an excerpt, Father had turned pale, claiming a headache, and left the hall mid-performance. Reporters had gossiped for weeks.
I risked a glance. His face had indeed changed—but then he smiled faintly.
“This piece is good. Play it.”
Shocked, I continued. My fingers found confidence with each note, and when I finished, applause filled the hall. Father whispered to Uncle Lei, who promptly left. A strange unease coiled inside me.
Later, I slipped away to the orchid house. Its dim yellow lights bathed everything in quiet melancholy. Turning past the hibiscus screen, I stopped short.
Before the “Tian Li” orchid stood a woman in white.
Her clothes shimmered like frost; her presence was ethereal, untouched by the mortal world. Surrounded by rare orchids, she still outshone them all.
When she turned, her smile was soft—almost unreal.
“Are you Nan Nan?” Her voice was light, trembling slightly.
“Who are you?” I whispered.
“My name is Ren Yingying.”
Ren Yingying? The name brushed against memory like a ghost.
“Ren Su Su is my cousin,” she said gently.
I froze. “My mother is your cousin?”
She sighed. “Yes. Your mother is my cousin.”
I stared at her hand—it was pale, nearly translucent in the lamplight. Was she human or spirit?
“The ‘Tian Li’ has bloomed beautifully,” she said, glancing at the orchids. “Has the ‘Guan Shan’ in Shuangqiao blossomed this year?”
I murmured, “Not yet. It might not bloom.”
She looked lost, her voice barely a whisper. “Yes… perhaps it won’t this year.”
Before I could ask more, a voice called from behind. “Nan Nan!”
It was Hou Mingyou. I turned. “I’m here.”
He laughed. “Hiding again?”
I pouted. “Who says I’m alone? There’s—”
But when I turned back, the woman was gone. Only the orchids remained, still fragrant in the air.
Had I seen a ghost?
Mingyou chuckled. “Who else could be here? You really do live up to your reputation as a little monster.”
I forced a smile, and he offered a hand. “Shall we dance?”
I accepted. On the dance floor, I spotted a face I didn’t recognize. Something about him drew my attention.
“Do you know him?” Mingyou asked.
“No,” I said quickly, but my eyes lingered.
“Then let me introduce you.” He led me over before I could protest.
“Zhuo Zheng,” he said. “Vice Captain Zhuo—this is Miss Murong.”
Zhuo Zheng extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise.” His gaze was steady, unreadable. I felt oddly uneasy.
He later asked me to dance. He was graceful, controlled—every step measured. The others watched us curiously. When the song ended, he leaned close.
“Come with me.”
He led me past the roses to a quiet corner.
“Who am I?” he asked abruptly.
I blinked. “What kind of question—”
He gave a strained laugh. “I know it sounds foolish. But I can only ask you.”
“I don’t know either,” I admitted. “Why are you here?”
“I’m on leave. Zhao Liliang invited me.” He hesitated. “Has your father said anything?”
His tone was careful—too careful. He suspected something.
I said, “Father tells me nothing. He still treats me like a child.”
He frowned. “When you came to see me last time, I thought you knew.” Then, lowering his voice, “The day he visited our fleet—it wasn’t coincidence. He appeared without warning, came straight to our ship… I was the only one there.”
Coincidences stacking into a pattern. My stomach tightened.
He searched my face. “Your mother…”
My throat went dry. “All I know is the official story—she died in a car accident before I was a year old. But, Zhuo Zheng… help me find the truth.”
“I tried,” he said quietly. “The orphanage—demolished. Nothing remains.”
Before we could say more, footsteps sounded. Uncle Lei appeared.
“Nan Nan, time to go home,” he said smoothly, glancing at Zhuo Zheng.
Zhuo greeted him calmly. “Minister Lei.”
Uncle Lei nodded. “Come with me, Young Zhuo. I have something to discuss.”
I teased lightly, “Uncle Lei, don’t scold him—he’s been kind to me.”
He only smiled thinly. “You little clever one. Hurry now—your father’s waiting.”
Father and I rode home in silence. He smoked, staring out the window. For once, he didn’t seem angry—almost calm. Almost human.
When the car stopped, I stepped out, but Father didn’t.
“I’m going to Duanshan,” he told Director Shi.
Duanshan. I’d heard of it—the house where he’d grown up—but never seen it.
“Father,” I said softly. He made a sound without turning.
I gathered all my courage. “I want to see my mother.”
He lifted his head, eyes catching the streetlight—sharp, unreadable.
“I want to see my mother,” I repeated.
His expression flickered, something between shock and sorrow. My heart thundered. “Is she at Duanshan?” I asked. “Aren’t you going there to see her?”
For once, he didn’t scold me. Didn’t speak for a long time. Then, his voice low and rough: “Your mother—you want to see her?”
The world seemed to still. My pulse beat like drums. Whatever waited beyond this night, I couldn’t turn back.
He sighed deeply. “Get in the car.”
For a second, I thought I misheard. He agreed—just like that? Could it be true?
The convoy drove toward Duanshan through a tunnel of ancient trees, their shadows swallowing the road. My heart pounded with them, trapped between fear and hope.
I didn’t know what awaited me at Duanshan.
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