Chapter 48

Logically speaking, her father shouldn’t still be clinging to false hopes now that she was already married.

After all, the more prominent the family, the more they loved to put on a facade of righteousness, no matter how rotten they were inside. On the surface, they all prided themselves on propriety and had plenty of taboos to uphold.

Even though Tang Jin was a woman, according to the Hundred Blades Code of Laws, she was undeniably a married wife.

Wouldn’t the man her father was trying to cozy up to care about that?

Chu Lingyue couldn’t make sense of it.

Scholar Chu was about to speak when he noticed his daughter nearby. He smiled and said, “Shaoyang, go back to your room first. Your father needs to have a word with your elder sister.”

Chu Shaoyang pouted in dissatisfaction. “Father.” She clearly wanted to listen in too.

Scholar Chu coaxed her gently. “You’re still too young for some matters. It’s best not to get involved too soon. Off to your room now.”

Seeing that her wheedling wasn’t working—and knowing the gravity of the situation—Chu Shaoyang had no choice but to head back to her room.

Only then did Scholar Chu turn to Chu Lingyue. The smile faded from his face, replaced by a grave expression. “It’s the Second Prince—the current Prince An. That one’s always been a law unto himself. We need to stay extra vigilant about this.”

As he spoke, a flicker of reluctance passed through his eyes. His elder brother truly was… unworthy of being a father.

Prince An!

Chu Lingyue clenched her fingertips. Ten years ago in the Imperial Capital, she’d not only seen him but heard plenty about his exploits. Even after arriving in Pingman Prefecture, tales of his reputation had followed her.

The Second Prince had always been ruthless, sparing no means to achieve his ends.

After being demoted to Pingman Prefecture, his behavior grew even more outrageous. He developed a peculiar obsession: snatching married women from the common folk, especially the beautiful ones.

To satisfy his selfish desires, the Second Prince employed vile tactics. He’d either bribe the woman’s family with lavish promises or sabotage them in secret, driving households to ruin and despair.

Though his actions stirred widespread resentment, he left no evidence behind, leaving the authorities powerless.

Worst of all, the women he took into Prince An’s Mansion as concubines would die soon after—by seemingly legitimate means—and always in gruesome states, their faces unrecognizable.

As these memories surfaced, Chu Lingyue gripped her fingers tighter. Her father… he truly cared nothing for her life or death.

Scholar Chu sighed, his voice softening. “Rest assured, with your Second Uncle here, no one can force you into anything.”

After all, he’d already severed ties with the family and his elder brother ten years ago. Falling out completely was just one more step.

Chu Lingyue’s hands trembled faintly. A fierce wind seemed to sweep through her heart, scattering the last remnants of familial affection.

“Second Uncle, if I said I never plan to acknowledge Father again, would you think me unfilial?”

In this lifetime, she wanted nothing more to do with that man as her father. She couldn’t accept it, couldn’t forgive it…

Scholar Chu took a few gulps of tea, his tone turning indifferent. “Acknowledge him for what? By that logic, I’d be the most unfilial one. Ten years ago, I petitioned to be struck from the clan rolls—a disloyal wretch who disowned his ancestors.”

But did he want to be that wretch?

It was his elder brother, as the family head, who refused the righteous path. Even after rising to Grand Chancellor, he wasn’t content. He lusted after the merits of founding a new dynasty, gambling away everyone’s futures.

And the result? The branch of the Chu Family that clung to him was stripped clean—no one left with an official title, their homes confiscated. They fled the capital like homeless dogs, utterly disgraced.

If he had it to do over, he’d make the same choice.

Chu Lingyue fell silent for a moment before speaking gravely. “Second Uncle will always be my Second Uncle, but from now on, I’m no longer part of the Chu Family.”

Scholar Chu cradled his teacup, his voice even more detached. “If Elder Brother still refuses to repent, that branch of the Chu Family won’t have a root left to stand on before long.”

With that, his expression softened a touch. He smiled faintly. “Lingyue still suits my temperament best. I didn’t dote on you for nothing back then. Speaking of which, Shaoyang and I owe much of our current standing to you.”

At that time, he had been penniless. Life hadn’t been unbearable, but it was far from easy.

He remembered the day before leaving the capital: his daughter had wanted to bid farewell to her elder sister and returned that very night with a pile of silver and a string of gold pearls.

Thanks to that money, he’d entered the world of commerce, building his business step by step until he became the wealthy Provincial Graduate he was today.

Now that his niece was in trouble, he’d naturally step up—to repay that help in their hour of need.

In this life, one must remember others’ kindness and show gratitude. Otherwise, you’re truly a scoundrel.

Chu Lingyue recalled the roguish layabout Scholar Chu had been back then, a smile lighting her eyes. “Second Uncle is too polite. I didn’t fully understand at the time, but I knew you were in the right.”

Back then, her father had been the Grand Chancellor, backing the Eldest Prince supported by the noble houses—the son of Empress Li, no less. To prove his loyalty, her father had even betrothed her to a widower from the Li Family who’d long been without a wife.

She’d thought herself trapped in an inescapable fate, but someone had told her not to worry—she wouldn’t marry into the Li Family. She’d believed them.

And time had proven her right.

Her Second Uncle’s decision to leave with nothing had struck her as wise even then.

Scholar Chu laughed heartily. “See? That’s why you suit my temperament. From now on, you’re the only niece I’ll acknowledge.”

As for the rest of the Chu Family—not worth recognizing. He’d cut ties long ago.

The two chatted a while longer before Chu Lingyue rose to leave.

By the time she returned to the Little Restaurant, it was just about lunchtime.

The three in the main hall were waiting eagerly, all set for her to serve the meal. They brightened at her arrival.

Chu Lingyue felt a warm contentment in her heart. She had no objections to Tang Jin bringing out just one pot of Abalone Chicken Wing Stew.

Old Madam Tang had started with some gripes, but remembering the feast she’d shared with the Liu Brothers the night before—devouring an entire table—she lost the will to complain about her unlucky granddaughter.

Tang Laidi had one thought on her mind: When would her little sister finally give away that hairpin? She wanted to see it.

After the meal, as if reading her mind, Tang Jin pulled out the peachwood hairpin and offered it to Chu Lingyue. “Here, wife. For you.”

Her words were so straightforward and blunt that Tang Laidi was left blinking in surprise.

Old Madam Tang took in the scene and rose gracefully. As she passed Tang Laidi, she shot her a pointed look. What are you staring wide-eyed for, girl? Get moving—you’ve got no sense at all.

Tang Laidi caught Old Madam Tang’s glance but didn’t budge. She planted herself firmly in her seat.

This time, the little couple wasn’t shooing her away. No way was she leaving.

Old Madam Tang had already stood up, so she could only huff in frustration and retreat to her room alone.

Chu Lingyue slowly raised her gaze to the wooden hairpin, replying calmly, “I can’t accept unearned gifts, A-Jin. You’d best take it back.”

Why would this woman give her a hairpin out of the blue?

After spending so much time together, she knew full well that Tang Jin was a money-loving cheapskate. Something was off here.

“Uh…” Though Tang Jin had anticipated Chu Lingyue might refuse, the rejection still left her oddly unsettled. She waved it off casually. “Wife, you’re being too distant. It’s not worth much anyway.”

Seeing her little sister’s gift rejected, Tang Laidi chimed in helpfully. “It’s really not worth anything, Lingyue. Just take it—it’s a freebie. Tang Jin didn’t spend a single copper.”

Tang Jin: “…”

Chu Lingyue’s eyes gleamed with understanding. So it hadn’t cost a penny. Still, she didn’t reach out.

“Why give me a hairpin, A-Jin?”

She’d already resolved to leave in a year and a half. Better to minimize her attachments to the restaurant folk—and spare herself the heartache later.

Rejected twice over and called out by her little sister to boot, Tang Jin lost her patience. She stood, strode over, grabbed Chu Lingyue’s hand, shoved the hairpin into her palm, and blurted out at top speed, “You’re my wife. I’m giving you a wooden hairpin. What’s there to question?”

With that, she turned and marched to the back yard without looking back.

It was just a hairpin—no silver spent. She only wanted to do a small favor, draw a little closer, so it’d be easier later to broach keeping her around. This woman was hopeless at reading between the lines.

Tang Laidi blinked again. This wasn’t how she’d pictured it. She’d expected some sweet newlywed banter, but her little sister had stormed off?

Chu Lingyue stared at the peachwood hairpin in her hand, a complex flicker in her eyes. Then she rose and followed.

In the kitchen, Tang Jin flung open the door and plopped down with a book, though her peripheral vision tracked Chu Lingyue. This woman wasn’t about to hand the hairpin back, was she?

But Chu Lingyue said nothing about it. Instead, she remarked mildly, “Don’t you have any questions for me today, A-Jin?”

Relieved that the hairpin went unmentioned, Tang Jin exhaled inwardly. Good—as long as she kept it.

She glanced at the goods shelf hovering in the void. The other dishes would last a few days, but they had only two pots of Garlic Honey Glazed Chicken Wings left, and one of Abalone Chicken Wing Stew. Time to stock up.

No point beating around the bush now that she knew the lay of the land.

“Wife, what do you think of me?”

Chu Lingyue knew just how to reply. “A-Jin is a good person—someone worth entrusting your future to.”

【Ding! Reward: One pot of Abalone Chicken Wing Stew.】

【Ding! Reward: One pot of Garlic Honey Glazed Chicken Wings.】

“Wife, what do you think of me?”

“A-Jin is a good person…”

She asked three times in a row. The five-layer shelf had only one spot left—seven dishes per layer, thirty-four in total.

Tang Jin did the math, wondering what would happen if she kept going. Would the shelf expand once it was full?

“Wife, what do you think of me?”

“A-Jin is a good person…”

The moment Chu Lingyue finished speaking, a curt mechanical whir buzzed in Tang Jin’s mind.

【Ding! Insufficient shelf space. Reward revoked.】

Tang Jin’s mouth twitched. Well played—not only no expansion, but this reward got yanked too.

What a stubborn antique System. No flexibility at all.

At that moment, Chu Lingyue asked softly, “Why’d you stop asking, A-Jin?”

If she hadn’t miscounted, the repetition had started right when Tang Jin settled on her signature dishes. Factoring in sales and consumption, there weren’t many portions left.

Tang Jin couldn’t very well admit the shelf had just one spot free. Instead, she said, “Nothing good comes from rushing for quick gains. That’s enough for today.”

Something occurred to Chu Lingyue, and she said wistfully, “A-Jin, I went to the County Yamen this morning.”

【Reward: One plate of Mashed Potato Shrimp Balls.】

The shelf filled up instantly. Thirty-five dishes arranged in neat rows gleamed like stacks of silver, making Tang Jin’s eyes light up.

“Oh? Did you go see your uncle, wife?” Tang Jin responded offhandedly, suspicion budding in her mind. Why was Chu Lingyue volunteering this—and lying, no less?

Watching Tang Jin’s expression shift from delight to doubt, Chu Lingyue’s heart sank.

An outlandish suspicion popped into her head: this woman could somehow tell truth from lies.

As she pondered, Chu Lingyue followed up smoothly. “Yes, I went to see Father.”

She watched Tang Jin closely. Hearing another lie, the woman showed no pleasure—instead, a faint disappointment crept in.

Had she overthought it?

Tang Jin knew a full shelf meant revoked rewards anyway. She only felt a twinge of regret.

“Oh, how’s Uncle doing? What are your plans?”