Volume One, Chapter Two: Driven Away in Anger

He spat and spat, but the filth smeared across Yusiwen's mouth only spread further. He stamped his feet and scrubbed furiously at his lips, yet could not get them clean.

The servants of the Marquis of Wen'an's household were badly shaken. Their eyes darted back and forth between Yusiwen and Shizhao, each glance brimming with shock.

A young lady with no blood relation whatsoever to the Marquis of Wen'an had shown such insolence to the heir of that house.

"How dare you! Have you lost your mind, Yusiyao!"

The stench in Yusiwen's nose made him nearly retch.

He barked in fury, lifting a hand to teach this rebellious sister a lesson, but a spear suddenly blocked his chest.

The palace guard said sternly, "No uproar in the imperial palace."

Only then did Yusiwen realize that Shizhao had somehow retreated within the palace gate. If he struck her, it would be a crime.

His Majesty already held the Marquis of Wen'an's household in poor regard. Even a minor fault could bring ruin upon the entire family.

Cold sweat broke out over Yusiwen's back in an instant. Yet he could not reach inside the gate and drag Shizhao out. With all his fury left with nowhere to go, he flung his sleeve and gave a cold laugh. "If you have the strength, then stay there for the rest of your life."

Still not satisfied, he turned and snarled at Zhuching, "Do not hire her a carriage. Make her walk home!"

Yusiwen was livid. Yusiyao had been spoiled rotten by their family, and today he would have to correct that pampered temper.

When he finished, Yusiwen covered his mouth, turned, and climbed into the carriage, departing in such haste it was as though his backside were on fire.

And so Shizhao was left at the palace gate.

Watching the carriage recede into the distance, she did not feel sad. Instead, for the first time in a long while, she felt a trace of pleasure.

She had long wanted to seal up Yusiwen's filthy mouth.

"Second Miss..."

Zhuching stood beside Shizhao at a loss. The Marquis of Wen'an's residence was so far away, and Second Miss was so frail. How could she possibly walk back?

"Second Miss, we're all family. Why insist on locking horns so stubbornly with the heir..." Zhuching thought the second young lady rather foolish. In the end, she had no blood relation to the Marquis of Wen'an's household. If this dragged on, the only one who would suffer would be her.

Though Second Miss had been wronged, life still had to go on. Could it be that she truly meant to leave the marquis's residence?

As Zhuching was still dazedly thinking, she suddenly saw a plain carriage speeding toward them from afar. Before it had even come to a full stop, an elderly woman rushed down from it.

"Second Miss... Second Miss... This servant has come late. This servant has come to take you home."

Zhuching looked more closely and cried out in astonishment, "Nurse Lan, why are you here!"

Nurse Lan had been the personal attendant of the old mistress of the marquis's household, who had passed away half a year earlier. Even the marquis himself treated her with deference.

After the old mistress's death, she had remained in charge of the old lady's Rong'en Hall.

Nurse Lan completely ignored Zhuching. She scanned Shizhao from head to toe with meticulous care, then gasped, eyes widening in horror. "Miss, your hand..."

Shizhao let her examine her, obedient as a child. At the words, she patted Nurse Lan's hand in quiet reassurance. "Nurse, come with me to the clinic first."

Tears filled Nurse Lan's eyes as she helped Shizhao into the carriage.

Clean clothes and healing ointment had already been prepared inside. Nurse Lan carefully helped Shizhao out of her outer robe, only to discover that even the white undergarment beneath was stained with large patches of blood.

"No matter what, Second Miss is still a member of the Marquis of Wen'an's household. How could those people in the inner prison..."

Afraid to touch Shizhao's broken right wrist, Nurse Lan could only wipe away her tears, lift Shizhao's left arm, and gently apply the medicine.

Looking closely at the fair, delicate arm, one could see it was covered in tiny puncture marks. The more tender the flesh, the denser the marks.

It was an old torment practiced within the palace. There appeared to be no wound at all, yet with even the slightest movement, the body would erupt in agony, and blood might bead through the skin. It was pain enough to make one wish for death.

For an entire month, Shizhao had endured this needle punishment every day.

No one had rescued her.

After the ointment was applied, Shizhao was dabbing her cheeks with a handkerchief when the carriage suddenly came to a stop. A man's voice sounded from outside, gentle, yet carrying an undeniable authority.

"Siyao, come into my carriage."

Shizhao looked outside and saw a carriage slowly draw to a halt before her. A pale, slender hand lifted the curtain, revealing a handsome face as refined and luminous as polished jade.

Zhang Huaijin. Her betrothed. The man she loved.

Yet at the Empress Dowager's birthday banquet, Zhang Huaijin had ignored her completely.

Shizhao unconsciously clenched her teeth.

Her heart swelled with pain, as though someone had gripped it tightly and then let go, stirring emotions she could not name. She forced everything down and turned her face away.

"Thank you for your kindness, Young Master Zhang. I do not dare overstep my place."

After that, she instructed the coachman to continue on.

The Zhang family of the capital was a great house of scholars and statesmen, unshaken through three reigns. Several of its sons had entered the Grand Secretariat, and hundreds had passed the imperial examinations. Zhang Huaijin was the eldest legitimate son, and the one most treasured by this generation of the clan.

He had prepared a bellyful of words meant to soothe her, never expecting that Shizhao would not even board his carriage. Seeing her vehicle move on ahead, he sighed softly and leaped down from his own carriage.

In a few quick strides he caught up, then with one agile motion climbed into her carriage, driving Nurse Lan and the others out.

At once, the man's sandalwood scent dispersed the medicinal odor, and the carriage seemed even more cramped.

Shizhao pressed herself against the wall of the carriage, trying to widen the distance between herself and Zhang Huaijin as much as possible. But the compartment was far too narrow, and she could clearly feel the man's breath above her head.

Zhang Huaijin's voice was low. "Siyao, I know you are angry. But you've always been clever. Surely you know why I did not help you clear your name back then?"