With Old Madam Shen’s sharp command, Shen Miao remained perfectly still.
The room froze in astonishment. Shen Xin had been away at war for years, and under Old Madam Shen’s relentless guidance, Shen Miao had grown timid and obedient. Yet today… she refused to kneel.
Could it truly be that anything linked to Prince Jin stirred such fierce courage in her?
“Grandmother, Fifth Miss doesn’t know what wrong she has committed,” Shen Miao said with calm composure.
“Fifth Sister, have you lost your mind from fever?” Shen Yue’s voice trembled slightly with urgency. “Grandmother is upset, yes, but not punishing you. This could be resolved with a simple apology. Why are you being so stubborn?”
With that single remark, she painted Shen Miao as rebellious, obstinate, and unworthy.
“Outrageous! This is absolute rebellion!” Old Madam Shen’s voice pierced the air, sharp as a blade. Shen Yuanbai, startled mid-bite of sugar-steamed custard, dropped his dessert onto the floor and erupted into loud wails.
“Don’t cry, Seventh Brother,” Ren Wanyun quickly stepped forward, gathering him into her arms. Her gaze toward Shen Miao simmered with disapproval. “Fifth Miss, have you gone mad? Who taught you to speak back to your elders?”
Shen Miao’s eyes swept over her Second Aunt.
Madam Ren Wanyun, plump and radiant in her long blue brocade, bore the air of kindness and fairness. A revered figure within the Shen household, she seemed the perfect daughter-in-law.
Shen Miao had once believed this too—until she married. Half of the family fortune, promised as her dowry, had vanished by the time she reached Prince Jin’s residence. Naturally, the culprit had been Ren Wanyun. The dowry’s jewels were seized, the ownership of family shops altered. Shen Miao entered a grand household only to find herself scorned, her worth diminished by what should have been her legacy.
“Does Second Aunt also believe Fifth Miss has done wrong?” Shen Miao asked softly. “But Fifth Miss doesn’t know what mistake she has made.”
“Fool!” Old Madam Shen barked, her refined composure fracturing into raw venom. “At such a young age, you have no shame—secretly watching Prince Jin, bringing disgrace to our Shen family! Who taught you such impudence? So undignified!”
Shen Miao sighed inwardly. Day to day, Old Madam Shen maintained an immaculate matronly presence, but her words revealed her origins unmistakably. Once a singing girl, she now cussed like one, defiling the veneer of nobility. In her past life, Shen Miao hadn’t noticed; as Empress, she now understood: conversing with Old Madam Shen was a descent in status.
“Secretly watching Prince Jin?” she tilted her head, feigning confusion.
Shen Yue couldn’t help but speak: “Fifth Sister, though we know your admiration for Prince Jin, falling into the water while spying damages the family’s reputation. Prince Jin must be displeased. You should find an opportunity to apologize.”
Admire Prince Jin and apologize to him? To endure humiliation before the one she cherished? Shen Miao’s pride flared. She had faced the same demand in her previous life and refused—thus earning Old Madam Shen’s wrath and house arrest.
The insinuation was clear: she had shamed the family in the name of love. Shen Yue’s poised gentleness masked cunning calculation, and Shen Miao’s gaze sharpened.
Noticing Shen Miao’s look, Shen Yue faltered. Those deep, grape-dark eyes held a clarity that unsettled her.
“Second Sister, what nonsense about admiring Prince Jin—you shouldn’t spread such rumors. Fifth Miss is now a grown lady. Words like these could damage her reputation,” Shen Miao said softly but firmly.
Shen Yue froze. Everyone in the capital knew Shen Miao’s admiration, yet now she denied it outright, with grace and authority.
“Fifth Sister, we are all family here,” Shen Yue began again, attempting gentleness. “These matters are nothing to be ashamed of…”
“Second Sister!” Shen Miao interrupted sharply, her voice cutting like polished steel. “Mind your words. Misfortune comes from the mouth. Prince Jin is of imperial blood. As members of an eminent family, we must be cautious. Fifth Miss may have been young and ignorant before, but this recent incident was a lesson. Fifth Miss will restrain her words and actions henceforth. Please, do not speak so carelessly.”
A stunned silence fell over the room. Old Madam Shen, Shen Yue, everyone present, all felt the weight of her command—undaunted, unyielding, and resolutely dignified.
Shen Miao had always been gentle and timid, her voice soft and compliant. She had been easy to sway, obedient to a fault. When had she ever spoken so sharply before?
Chen Ruoqiu’s eyes flickered. Shen Yue, though young, was clever in her own right. A daughter of a scholarly household, she was proud and unyielding, seldom submissive. Seeing her own daughter at a disadvantage, Chen Ruoqiu’s displeasure softened her voice: “Whether there’s admiration or not can be cleared with just one word from Fifth Miss. After all, who can truly guess a young lady’s thoughts? But Fifth Miss should heed Third Aunt’s advice. Your Second Sister is right—Prince Jin holds a noble rank. Regardless, you should apologize to him.”
“Indeed,” Old Madam Shen regained her composure and added, “Starting tomorrow, we’ll send a note to Prince Jin’s residence and personally visit to apologize.”
Shen Miao’s lips twitched in restrained amusement. Such words might have deceived her naïve self in the past. But now, she stood as the legitimate daughter of a military family, a lady of noble status. Why should she abase herself before a prince? And if she did, where would Shen Xin’s honor lie? By tomorrow, it would surely be fodder for the capital’s gossip.
She finally understood: Old Madam Shen harbored a grudge against the First House, eager to see them humiliated. With Shen Xin and his wife absent from the capital, she had become their convenient scapegoat.
But life was never so accommodating.
Shen Miao’s lips curved in a faint, knowing smile as her gaze shifted to Shen Qing, who had remained silent until now. “Eldest Sister, when I fell into the water that day, only you were by my side.”
Shen Qing lifted her head calmly, already anticipating that Shen Miao would reveal the truth: she had pushed her into the pond. But Shen Qing showed no fear. The real power in the Shen family rested with Old Madam Shen and Ren Wanyun. Shen Miao, though officially a young lady of the house, was merely a neglected daughter of the Third House. As long as she denied everything firmly, the Old Madam and Ren Wanyun would be forced to side with her, leaving Shen Qing vulnerable to blame, punishment, and scorn. Serve her right! Who asked this ignorant girl to compete for Prince Jin? If only she had drowned…
“Eldest Sister, did you also see Prince Jin that day?” Shen Miao asked casually, catching them off guard.
“Yes, I did,” Shen Qing admitted.
“Well then, the other day, I was merely playing by the pond with Eldest Sister and accidentally fell into the water. It just happened that Prince Jin, who came to the Shen residence to seek Second Uncle for paintings and calligraphy, passed by,” Shen Miao shook her head lightly. “If I had been spying on Prince Jin, how would I have known? Second Uncle and Third Uncle’s servants wouldn’t have relayed messages from the inner courtyard. How could I possibly anticipate that Prince Jin would come personally for Second Uncle’s artwork? Am I clairvoyant? Or…” She paused, her tone leisurely yet pointed. “Could it be that Prince Jin sent a formal invitation to our mansion?”
Shen Qing frowned, uncertain of Shen Miao’s implication, ready to retort. But before she could speak, Ren Wanyun’s voice rang out, tense and sharp: “Eldest Miss!”
Shen Miao cast a fleeting glance at the pale-faced Ren Wanyun and the suddenly anxious Chen Ruoqiu, allowing a slight, almost imperceptible smile to touch her lips.
She knew. With so many shrewd minds in this mansion, how could they not grasp her meaning?
Fu Xiuyi had visited the Shen residence recently, coincidentally passing by, recalling a bet made while playing chess with Shen Gui—a wager concerning the claim of a painting.
Now Shen Miao’s words suggested a formal invitation had existed. Imperial law forbade officials from getting too close to princes; a formal visit implied something weighty. Plans for the heir apparent, perhaps?
Eyes and ears were everywhere—imperial spies might have been present. Some truths simply could not be spoken aloud.
With a single sentence, Shen Miao elevated the matter from a young lady’s conduct to the loyalty of imperial subjects. Shen Xin was far away in the northwest, but Shen Gui and Shen Wan remained in the capital, serving the imperial court.
Perhaps Shen Yue and Shen Qing would not fully grasp the weight of her words—but Ren Wanyun and Chen Ruoqiu certainly did.
Shen Miao laughed coldly in her mind. If they wished to trample on her reputation, she would stake it against the heads of Shen Gui and Shen Wan. Did her Second Aunt and Third Aunt truly understand the risk they were taking? Were they willing? Could they dare?
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