“I believe in Nanny Tao. Someone must have tampered with the shoes to frame her…”
Sheng Mingzhu firmly defended Taoniang, her angry gaze sweeping over the servants in the room.
What she didn’t realize was that her actions today had thoroughly disillusioned the servants of Haitang Courtyard.
The maids were probably thinking: If Taoniang wouldn’t harm her mistress, does that mean the rest of us would?
Taoniang was the most suspicious in this incident, yet the Sixth Young Miss pleaded for her again and again. But when the Fifth Young Master wanted to punish them earlier, the Sixth Young Miss hadn’t spoken a single word in their defense.
A servant’s heart is made of flesh, too.
Sheng Mingzhu’s blatant favoritism bred resentment among the servants, and from now on, their loyalty would be half-hearted.
In the cutthroat world of the inner household, losing the support of one’s servants meant a future full of suffering—and Sheng Mingzhu was doomed to endure it.
Sheng Yong, who had been sitting in an armchair observing the scene, had long grown impatient. With the evidence laid bare before him, he ordered Taoniang to be expelled from the estate.
Sheng Mingzhu begged desperately, even struggling to rise from her reclining chair, crying so hard she nearly choked—
Sheng Yong’s heart softened again. Helpless, he turned to Sheng Minmin, silently asking her to play the villain.
Sheng Minmin raised an eyebrow. Perfect—just as I wished.
She had Taoniang dragged to Mudan Courtyard, smashed a set of porcelain she disliked, and forced Taoniang to kneel on the shards.
Taoniang had no choice but to obey. She could feel the sharp fragments digging into her flesh, her knees burning with pain, blood slowly seeping from countless tiny wounds on her legs.
Time crawled. Taoniang felt as though she were trapped in hell—her body tortured, the metallic scent of blood thick in the air.
Yet, the hatred in her heart burned like molten lava in a volcano, ready to erupt at any moment. It was this hatred that kept her conscious. Just as her body reached its limit, she finally heard Qingying’s voice, crisp and heavenly:
“That’s enough.”
Not daring to provoke the mistress further, Taoniang tried to leave, leaning against the wall for support—but then Qingying added:
“The mistress has ordered that you kneel here for an hour every day. Ten days in total.”
Taoniang spat out a mouthful of blood and collapsed.
…
“Son, from now on, she’s our child bride, right?”
In her dazed state, Huang Yaning heard a strange, shrill woman’s voice.
She slowly awoke from the fog, blinking until her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Above her was a thatched roof.
This… definitely isn’t the Feng family’s house.
The Fengs were among the wealthiest in Taohua Village—their home was built of sturdy timber with clean tile roofs, and even their storage sheds had proper windows.
But this place? A thatched roof, a rickety table propped up with a wooden block, a crude stool, and further away… something that vaguely resembled a bed.
If it could even be called a bed. The “blanket” on top was so blackened and greasy it looked like it hadn’t been washed in centuries.
Two figures lay on the “bed.” The one on the inside was just a vague lump, while the one near the edge was a woman half-reclining, her face mostly hidden by tangled, greasy hair.
At the foot of the bed stood a hunchbacked man, his back turned to Huang Yaning.
“Ah! Son, she’s awake—” the woman on the bed screeched, her voice sharp with excitement.
The unfamiliar surroundings and strangers sent a jolt of panic through Huang Yaning. She struggled to sit up.
The hunchbacked man turned around, and she finally saw his face—
Dark, leathery skin, sunken cheeks, yellowed teeth, and eyes clouded with dullness. He looked about forty, wearing a patched, filthy coat.
When he grinned at her, revealing his rotten teeth, the stench of his breath mixed with the reek of the unwashed bedding—
“Ugh—” Huang Yaning couldn’t hold back. She vomited.
“Ah! You wretched girl, wasting good food! Son, hurry—!” the woman shrieked.
The hunchbacked man strode over and slapped Huang Yaning hard across the face.
She tried to dodge, but her body was too weak. The blow sent her sprawling back onto the ground.
The man mumbled curses, his words slurred as if he had a speech impediment, but she caught fragments: “Ungrateful brat… wasting food…”
Then, to her horror, he crouched down, scooped up the vomit with his bare hands, and sniffed it.
Bile rose in Huang Yaning’s throat again. She fought the urge to retch, her skin crawling.
Please don’t lick it. Please don’t—
After a long, revolting inspection, the man finally carried the mess outside. Soon, the sound of pigs grunting reached her ears.
He fed it to the pigs…
She shuddered in relief.
Where the hell am I?
One thing was certain: the Feng family was behind this.
Forcing herself to stand, she glanced back at the “bed.” The woman had called the man son—was she his mother?
But something didn’t add up. The woman looked younger than the man.
Though her hair was matted and greasy, her skin was relatively fair, her cheeks not as hollow. She seemed better off than the hunchbacked man.
Their eyes met. The woman’s glare was venomous.
“What’re you staring at, you little bitch? From now on, you’re our child bride. If you don’t obey me and my husband, I’ll have my son beat you to death!”
Huang Yaning froze.
Child. Bride.
The words exploded in her mind like a detonation.
In her past life, Minmin had been sent away at twelve to become a “child bride” for a family named Zhang. Unable to endure the abuse, Minmin had escaped—only to be found by Sheng Mingshu, who noticed her striking resemblance to her…
And that was how the truth of Minmin’s origins came to light.
Her heart seized with terror.
This… this can’t be the Zhang family, can it?
After bringing Minmin home, she’d ordered Sheng Mingyi to investigate her life before the Sheng household.
Sheng Mingyi reported that the Fengs hadn’t known Minmin’s true identity—they’d raised her like their own granddaughter. But when times grew hard, they’d sent her to a Zhang family in a neighboring village as a child bride.
He’d described the Zhangs as poor but kind—the parents were bedridden, their son was thirty, but he was hardworking, filial, and decent-looking…
Tears welled in Huang Yaning’s eyes. Her voice trembled as she forced out the question:
“Where… is this? Who are you?”
