Upon hearing Chen Jianfang’s words, Old Madam Qu and Second Madam Qu exchanged a glance. Old Madam Qu let out a barely audible sigh and gripped the ledger tightly, saying nothing.

Silence. Awkward, suffocating silence.

Xianjin kept her head down like a roasted quail. One wrong move, and she’d have to say goodbye to her precious gold ingot. She should’ve bitten it first!

Xianjin regretted it a little. She understood Old Madam Qu’s intent in sending Chen Fu to the old estate—it was just that Sixth Master Chen had gone too far, and she needed to use Chen Fu as a sword to cut him down to size. But how deep should the cut go?

Xianjin was new here. She couldn’t gauge the tangled history between Old Madam Qu and the Chen family, nor the depth of her relationships with the various uncles and nephews—wasn’t it clear how much she trusted and relied on Fifth Uncle?

What if Old Madam Qu only wanted to trim a few hairs off Sixth Master Chen, and Xianjin came in swinging and chopped off his whole head? Would Old Madam Qu hate Sixth Master Chen—or hate her?

She understood the logic, but she couldn’t just sit back and test the waters—Master Li Sanshun worked under her, and her father and brother had either died or been crippled because of Sixth Master Chen. She couldn’t stay indifferent.

“Madam,” Xianjin looked up and reminded, “Sixth Master Chen has blood on his hands. If you lift him high and let him down gently, the people won’t accept it.”

Chen Jianfang paused. This blunt, reckless girl… If you’re going to call for blood, at least veil it a little!

“I still remember when Grandfather passed,” he added, “Sixth Granduncle wept bitterly in the ancestral hall, swearing to protect the widows and orphans of the main branch with blood and tears.”

“Just last year, when Father died suddenly, Fifth Granduncle searched the city for a fine coffin, even went to Chuzhou eight times to beg a local gentry family to give up the huangbo wood coffin they’d prepared for their own elder.”

“At the same time, Sixth Granduncle sent a letter saying the Jing County workshop’s accounts were in crisis, and asked for sixty taels of raw material funds from the family.”

Chen Jianfang’s voice was clear and gentle, like a boy in a campus novel wearing a white shirt and riding a bicycle.

Xianjin glanced sideways at him.

“His tears in the ancestral hall were real. But so is his current ruthlessness—stomping over the Chen family like it’s a game. He wanted to buy osmanthus and share wine, but it’s no longer a youthful stroll…”

His voice faded.

Time flies. Another dragon-slaying youth becomes the dragon.

Xianjin felt a strange sadness. She hadn’t lived through the collapse of the Chen family’s pillar, nor the years when widows and orphans leaned on two uncles to survive. So she could shout and demand justice without restraint.

Old Madam Qu sighed deeply. “How could he be so foolish!”

Second Madam Qu’s eyes reddened. “Madam, shall we ask the clan elders to intervene?”

Old Madam Qu gripped the ledger for a long moment before nodding. “Open the ancestral hall. Summon the Chen family elders and the village head.” She stood with her cane, voice hoarse. “Tell Ah Dong to bring a team of guards and fetch Sixth Master Chen.”

After that, Xianjin and Chen Jianfang were asked to leave. This kind of high-level family disciplinary meeting wasn’t for rising stars, let alone a temp worker like Xianjin.

Chen Jianfang walked slowly with his hands behind his back. Xianjin wanted to part ways at the flower hall, but couldn’t just speed ahead—it would be too obvious she didn’t want to talk to him. So she tilted her neck and dragged her feet behind him like a snail.

Chen Jianfang stopped and glanced sideways. “Aren’t you afraid Sixth Master Chen will accuse you of extortion?”

Xianjin froze.

He added curtly, “On the fifth, I was at Little Daoxiang with friends for the God of Wealth celebration. Right across from the busiest part of Shuixi Street.”

Oh. So he saw her leading Sixth Master Chen on a “treasure hunt.”

Xianjin scratched her head. “He wouldn’t dare. He still wants to leave something good for his son and grandson.” She’d only taken two batches of eight-zhang and two of six-zhang xuan. No way that was all he had! If she’d asked for everything, he wouldn’t have given it all up without a fight.

He definitely had more. If he dared accuse her of extortion, she’d use the ledger to expose him—and he’d lose every last sheet of paper. His son and grandson would hate him forever.

Chen Jianfang thought for a moment, understood, and walked on. After a few steps, he hesitated, then turned fully around. “…Think carefully before you act. Don’t be reckless. Fighting chaos with chaos, violence with violence, only hurts yourself.”

As soon as he said it, he felt awkward. Who was he to lecture her? But this girl came from humble origins, with a mother of low status. She relied on instinct and wit. Just because she hadn’t crashed yet didn’t mean she wouldn’t. Could a girl survive the consequences of a misstep in this world? If Third Uncle had taken the risk to keep her, he should also have taken responsibility for guiding her.

Third Uncle…

Chen Jianfang pictured Chen Fu holding a wine jar in the hall the other day, with slicked hair and a dazed expression. He shook his head.

Forget it. He looked up and saw Xianjin staring at him with her tilted neck and defiant eyes. A strange irritation bubbled up. What kind of posture was that! Still tilting her neck like she was challenging him!?

It was eerily similar to how Third Uncle used to tilt his neck in front of Grandma when he refused to back down.

Chen Jianfang sighed and softened his tone. “I only spoke because I lost my father, and you lost your mother. We’re both unblessed and unprotected. If my words are worth hearing, take them. If not, discard them. I was presumptuous.”

With that, he turned and walked out of the flower hall, leaving Xianjin windblown and confused. She didn’t even say anything!

The Chen family opened the ancestral hall—a move impossible to keep secret in their modest old estate. Before dinner even arrived, the news was everywhere.

Nanny Zhang was still pounding rice cakes.

Yes. Still pounding rice cakes.

The Chen family ran a business, and their craving for the God of Wealth was stronger than most. They believed rice cakes could help retain his favor, so poor Nanny Zhang had once again been dragged off to make them.

Nanny Zhang, who’d been pounding rice cakes for half a month: I’ve really been screwed.

The God of Wealth, who’d been eating rice cakes for half a month: I’ve really been screwed too.

Expressionless, Nanny Zhang stood behind a waist-high wooden pestle, pounding hot rice. As she worked, she leaned over and stuffed a steaming lump of rice dough into Xianjin’s mouth. “…Sixth Master might die this time.”

Xianjin puffed out her cheeks, chewing the sticky rice with effort. “Who told you that?”

“The cousin of the aunt of the second uncle from the front courtyard—that’s my sister-in-law.”

Nanny Zhang, still expressionless, flexed her social network and nudged Xianjin with her chin. “You know me—I’ve been entrenched in the Chen family for years. My connections run deep.”