Yu Wen Yunshi studied Ye Shaohua intently. “He’s cured?” His question echoed the doubts of everyone in the courtyard.
Yu Wen Jing’s expression darkened, but even he couldn’t hide the complexity in his gaze as he looked at Ye Shaohua. How many secrets has she been keeping from me?
Before Ye Shaohua could respond, her sister-in-law’s voice rang out from inside the house—excited, disbelieving. “Shaofeng! You’re awake?!”
The divine physician who had followed Ye Shaohua inside soon emerged, staring at her as if she were a ghost.
Silence. Then—
Whoosh.
Rustle.
She had cured Ye Shaofeng.
Every pair of eyes in the courtyard locked onto Ye Shaohua. The kneeling imperial physicians, in particular, looked utterly horrified.
Swish, swish, swish— The gazes burned into her, intense and unrelenting.
General Ye and his wife only breathed easy after confirming Ye Shaohua was unharmed. Trembling, they rushed into the house—their fingers shook with the sheer relief of having their son back from death’s door. They had truly believed this time, no one could save him.
Ye Shaohua turned to Yu Wen Jing. “Your Majesty, from now on, I will remain at the General’s Manor.”
Yu Wen Jing opened his mouth—to demand answers, to ask why she had hidden so much from him—but then he remembered their contract. His raised hand dropped.
Ignoring him, Ye Shaohua summoned one of her father’s most trusted officers. “Gather every servant in the manor. Now.”
She made no effort to conceal her actions. Her sharp eyes raked over the assembled servants, peeling them apart layer by layer.
“You.” She pointed at a maid in a pink servant’s dress, her smile cold and cruel. “I remember you. You were selling yourself to bury your father when a local thug tried to drag you away. My brother saved you. My sister-in-law gave you money for the funeral. And yet—” Her voice turned icy. “Why did you conspire with outsiders to harm him?”
The maid, Shuangyu, paled and dropped to her knees. “Young Miss, this lowly one is inno—”
“Do you know what gave you away?” Ye Shaohua strode forward, plucked a hairpin from the maid’s head, and held it up. “This pearl hairpin. I’ve seen it on the Third Miss of the Qu family. The Ye and Qu families have no ties. So tell me—what merit did you perform to earn a gift from Qu Sanxiaojie?”
Shuangyu stammered, but Ye Shaohua didn’t wait for excuses.
With a wave of her hand, she ordered the maid dragged away and beaten to death.
Only then did Shuangyu scream for mercy, trying to name her accomplices—but the soldiers gripping her arms showed no mercy. These were General Ye’s most loyal men, veterans who despised traitors.
After the recent ambush—caused by a spy among their ranks—that had left their brothers dead and Ye Shaofeng crippled, they had no sympathy. If not for Ye Shaohua’s return, the young master would be dead. To them, a quick death was mercy.
Out of fifty-nine servants, Ye Shaohua identified fourteen traitors—nearly a quarter of the household.
“How did you recognize Qu Sanxiaojie’s hairpin?” Yu Wen Yunshi asked, surprised. Even Yu Wen Jing frowned, wondering if Ye Shaohua was using this to turn him against Grand Tutor Qu.
Ye Shaohua didn’t answer, but her sister-in-law, now emerging from the house, lifted her chin proudly.
“Our Shaohua has always been extraordinary. By three, she could recite classics backward. By five, her tutors admitted they had nothing left to teach her. She never forgets anything she’s seen. When she married His Majesty, Qu Sanxiaojie attended the wedding—to humiliate her, for Qu Huashang’s sake.”
Yu Wen Jing remembered. Qu Sanxiaojie had indeed tried to shame Ye Shaohua at their wedding.
The divine physician raised an eyebrow. “A prodigy? Strange—I’ve heard of Qu Jia’s talented daughter, the one who debated scholars at a young age. If Young Miss Ye was such a genius, why have I never heard of her?”
The question hung in the air.
General Ye, no longer trusting imperial physicians, had assigned military doctors to guard Ye Shaofeng. Years of restraint had only brought harm to his children. If humility wouldn’t protect them, then the Ye family would stand tall.
“The Ye family was already too prominent back then,” General Ye said bitterly. “Shaofeng loved books, but I never hired scholars for him beyond basic literacy. Another brilliant son would have drawn the Emperor’s suspicion.”
Yu Wen Jing’s throat tightened. He understood now—General Ye had deliberately stifled his son’s talents to survive.
“But Shaohua—” The general’s voice swelled with pride. “Her tutors said her mind rivaled the Seventh Prince’s. So I forbade her from studying openly. Yet she still learned—swordplay from the world’s greatest master, books from who knows where. By ten, she could defeat me. She attended one poetry gathering and never returned, finding it dull.” His fists clenched. “I failed them. My children should never have had to hide their brilliance.”
