Nanny Zhang, with her vast network of connections, pounded rice cakes with attitude, with flair, and with the momentum of a thousand troops.

Xianjin couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

Then Nanny Zhang launched into a long-winded, embellished retelling of the afternoon’s events. Sixth Master Chen, realizing what was happening, first flew into a rage at home, shrieking curses: “You dog-born little beast! You’ve screwed me once, now twice! May you die a wretched death!”

Xianjin nearly choked on her hot rice ball. Well, he wasn’t wrong.

Since her transmigration, all her cunning had been aimed squarely at Sixth Master Chen. She’d deployed every trick in the book—five thousand years of Chinese scheming, swindling, and sabotage—all unleashed on him in full force.

Steward Dong, though balding, was strong. After a polite “Forgive me,” he subdued Sixth Master Chen in a few rounds, stuffed all the gold and jewels from the display cabinet into a sack, and escorted him from Shuidong Street to the ancestral home. In front of the Chen clan elders, the treasures were dumped out—and Sixth Master Chen burst into tears.

“Pa-pa-pa!” Nanny Zhang even added sound effects.

Sixth Master Chen slapped himself in a whirlwind of regret, performing a full middle-aged male apology routine:

“I’m not human!”
“My guts were eaten by dogs!”
“I know I was wrong! I’ll never do it again!”

He clung to the leg of the most senior elder, Seventh Great-Uncle Chen, and kowtowed dozens of times to Old Madam Qu.

“…Useless,” Nanny Zhang scoffed. “Whatever grave sin he committed, clinging to legs and kowtowing didn’t help. In the end, he tried to run headfirst into a pillar.” She stuffed a handful of peanuts into Xianjin’s mouth.

Old Madam Qu sidestepped and let him crash, saying only: “If you die now, I swear in the ancestral hall to ensure your nephews and grandsons live well and study hard.”

Xianjin was amazed—Nanny Zhang had a gift for gossip. She remembered that entire quote word for word.

“Did he actually crash into the pillar?” Xianjin asked, struggling to swallow the rice and peanuts.

Nanny Zhang snorted and shook her head. “Him? Crash into a pillar? Even a dung beetle would die of shame before he would. After hearing Old Madam Qu’s words, he stopped crying.” Then he started cursing the heavens—blaming his dead parents, his indifferent brothers, and the unfair world that let villains thrive. Never once did he blame his own greed or betrayal of the clan. His rant angered Seventh Great-Uncle Chen, who ordered his mouth stuffed with cloth and had him dragged away.

Nanny Zhang, still talking, shoved a handful of dried jujubes into Xianjin’s mouth.

Xianjin nearly choked.

In the end, the clan elders decided to invoke family law:

• He would be whipped 100 times and sent to Ningde Village, the Chen family’s oldest ancestral home.
• No doctors or medicine allowed.
• His descendants wouldn’t be punished, but none could remain in Jing County or work in the paper trade.
• All property, land, and assets under his branch would be confiscated.
• The clan would offer no further support.
• After the New Year, his household’s registration would be removed from the Chen family records.

Land confiscation, expulsion, and clan removal—under traditional clan law, this was harsher than any legal punishment. His descendants could still live, do business, and start anew—but they could no longer study. A person expelled from the clan was considered morally corrupt—how could they become officials?

Of course, if someone insisted, “I study only for personal growth, not to become a minister,” then… go ahead.

Xianjin, having heard enough gossip, bolted. If she didn’t run, the eight-treasure porridge would start mixing in her mouth.

The ancestral hall proceedings moved quickly. That night, Xianjin heard ghostly wails from the courtyard. After a while, silence—likely the 100 lashes were done, and Sixth Master Chen had been taken away.

By morning, Steward Dong was seen rushing in and out, likely auditing Sixth Master Chen’s assets and land.

Before the Lantern Festival, news came from Ningde Village: Sixth Master Chen had died.

The news broke during breakfast.

Chen Fu said nothing for a long time. Old Madam Qu, unfazed, picked up a piece of oil-soaked bamboo shoot and placed it in Xianjin’s bowl. Then she addressed the table: “…Eat. No bad talk during the New Year.”

Chen Fu glanced at Old Madam Qu, thought for a moment, then buried his head in his rice. Third Madam Sun, usually silent as air, trembled. Her porcelain spoon clinked against the bowl.

Xianjin looked up.

Madam Sun shivered like she’d been electrocuted. Terrifying! She’d heard the rumors: Sixth Master Chen died because he blocked this girl’s path. She’d been outmaneuvered by He Xianjin! Otherwise, given his ties to the main Chen branch, even embezzling five or six hundred taels wouldn’t have led to death. And this was just for blocking her path. Just two months ago, she’d mistreated this girl—served her plain greens, left her hungry, and tried to marry her off to a rat-faced old widower! Compared to Sixth Master Chen, her sins against this girl were unforgivable! If Sixth Master Chen was dead, could her grave be far behind?

Madam Sun trembled through the next two days. The more she thought, the more terrified she became. The more she saw Xianjin’s ever-smiling face, the more she felt this girl was hiding something sinister. She paced her room, unsure what to do. Finally, she clenched her teeth and summoned Chen Fu, adopting a meek and obedient posture.

“… Jinjie’er is no longer who she used to be. Now that Sixth Master Chen is gone, the Jing County workshop affairs must fall to her, right?” Madam Sun asked softly.

Chen Fu frowned. “Why not fall to me?”

Madam Sun choked. “Do you want to take charge?”

Chen Fu shook his head. “Not really.”

Madam Sun: … Then why argue!

Madam Sun clutched her chest, ready to explode as usual—but hesitated, remembering Chen Fu’s powerful backer: the infamous He Yasha. She took a deep breath and continued meekly: “Jinjie’er is wonderful in every way, and she’s been so good to our Chen family. But there’s one problem—”

Chen Fu frowned. “What problem?”

Madam Sun replied gently: “After her mother died, she had little connection to the Chen family. Everything she does is out of loyalty to you. But we’re a business family—we usually rely on our own people. If one day you decide to leave Jing County, that would be a problem.”

“—So do we still rely on Jinjie’er? To what extent? And if we don’t, what happens to her?”

That struck a chord with Chen Fu. He thought for a moment and nodded. “You’re right.”

Seeing him agree, Madam Sun suppressed her excitement. “I have a plan to turn things around!”

Chen Fu raised his chin. “Let’s hear it.”

“Make Jinjie’er our daughter-in-law! Don’t forget—Fourth Brother is still unmarried! Once Jinjie’er finishes her mourning period, Fourth Brother can propose. Then she’ll be officially part of the Chen family. Not just one shop—she could run four!”

Madam Sun nearly applauded her own brilliance. He Xianjin was riding high, and Old Madam Qu clearly favored her. If she became Fourth Brother’s concubine, Madam Sun would be her mother-in-law, with natural authority. Would Jinjie’er dare seek revenge then?

“…Are you okay?” Chen Fu asked, utterly baffled.

“Is she okay?” Xianjin shot to her feet like a spring, her expression as if she’d just swallowed a mouthful of something truly foul.