Once inside the mansion, Mr. Lin ordered them to kneel on the marble beside the courtyard pond. “Now, tell me, what happened?” Yafu knew she had caused big trouble, her mind racing, her voice quivering with tears, “Father, she insulted my mother, calling her a lowly maid…”
Qingqing was about to retort when Yafu quickly added, “I know I offended my elder sister first, but she… I know my mother was a maid, and it hurts to hear others say it…” Her words were heartfelt, occasionally dropping tears without wiping them, showing her skill at playing the victim at such a young age, making Qingqing feel inferior in this regard.
Mr. Lin’s face grew increasingly dark. He always doted on his youngest wife and her children, and even he felt embarrassed when someone mentioned his youngest wife’s maid origins. He turned to Qingqing, “What do you have to say?”
Qingqing replied, “I wouldn’t just insult her without reason.” Her words were reasonable; there’s no such thing as an unprovoked action, but as she looked up and saw the disdain in Mr. Lin’s eyes, she felt both wronged and heartbroken, her voice turning cold, “But father doesn’t like me, whatever I say, you wouldn’t believe anyway.”
Yafu seized the moment, “Father, look at her, she’s disrespectful even to you.” Mr. Lin glared at her, and she dared not speak further.
“Good, very good! What a fine daughter I have,” Mr. Lin said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Give you an inch, and you take a mile. I see no need for you to continue your studies; go back to your mother’s east wing to reflect, and don’t come out unless necessary.”
