Thrown into the snow.

Late at night, the moon hung low. The Marquis of Huainan sat upright in his seat, gazing at his two daughters kneeling before him.

One was weeping pitifully, clutching the hem of his robe and begging for mercy. The other simply pressed her lips together in silence, her eyes filled with a stubborn resolve.

He immediately knew how to distinguish between them.

He cleared his throat and spoke in a light, cough-interrupted tone: "Qingyue, since it was you who injured the parrot belonging to the Heir of the State Duke..."

Meng Qingyue’s frame swayed violently.

Even though she had steeled herself, hearing her father push her out to take the blame for the incident still left her feeling an uncontrollable bitterness. "But Father, the one who actually hurt the parrot was..."

"Whose fault it truly is does not matter."

The Marquis’s tone was gentle, yet it carried an irresistible authority. "What matters is that your sister is betrothed to the Heir of the State Duke. If she were to confess and the Heir were to break off the engagement in a fit of rage, is that a consequence that you or I could bear?"

So, she was to be the scapegoat for Meng Changle?

Meng Qingyue found it absurd, yet she had no words to argue back. After all, for the past three years, it had always been this way.

She, too, had once been a cherished daughter of the Marquis’s estate. It was only because the true daughter of the house had been lost years ago that she had been taken in as an adopted daughter. For years, she had been treated as their own and loved dearly.

That was until three years ago, when Meng Changle was found and brought back.

She still remembered the joy and excitement of the Marquis’s family at that time. They held Meng Changle like a rare, precious treasure, while she had merely shrunk into a corner in confusion, watching her loved ones embrace and weep. For the first time, a faint realization dawned on her: she was an outsider.

In the three years that followed, the Marquis’s household treated Meng Changle like a gleaming pearl, compensating her for the years of suffering she had endured while away.

As for Meng Qingyue, the one who had occupied the "nest" for so many years, she seemed to have become a tool for them to demonstrate their devotion to Meng Changle.

But today felt different.

Meng Qingyue lowered her head deeply, her hollow eyes filled with a wretched sadness. "Father, I have heard that the Heir of the State Duke is arrogant and ruthless. If my sister had injured his parrot, he would have been heartless enough to propose breaking the engagement. If it were me instead..."

Before she could finish, she was impatiently interrupted by Meng Xingzhou, who stood to the side. "It is precisely because the Heir is arrogant that you must take the blame for Changle. You occupied Changle’s life for twelve years; it is time you repaid her kindness!"

Meng Qingyue looked up, staring blankly at the man who had once been as refreshing as a cool breeze under the moon. This was her brother—or rather, to be precise, he was Meng Changle’s brother.

Before Meng Changle returned, Meng Qingyue had thought Meng Xingzhou was the best brother in the world. He would climb walls to buy her fruit, save his money to set off fireworks for her birthday, and move all his own charcoal into her room during the winter, swearing that a man like him didn't fear the cold.

But ever since Meng Changle returned three years ago, he had been the brother of Meng Changle alone.

Repay Meng Changle’s kindness?

What kindness had Meng Changle ever shown her? She was not a child switched at birth, nor was she a fake daughter occupying a nest; she was an adopted daughter, brought home by her parents and loved for twelve years with a clear conscience.

At this thought, she gained a sliver of courage. "Even if the Heir intends to break the engagement with my sister, there is still room for negotiation. If I confess to this, and the Heir, in a fit of rage, beats me to death..."

She wanted to ask her brother, to ask her parents: was her life worth more, or was Meng Changle’s engagement worth more?

But the answer was obvious.

Meng Xingzhou scoffed. "If your death can make the Heir relent, then your life would have been well-spent!"

Meng Qingyue was stunned for a long moment, then suddenly smiled. It was a laugh of profound misery, accompanied by faint tears that cascaded down her face.

The Marquis and his wife exchanged a glance. Although they felt their son’s words were a bit harsh, they thought about it and found some logic in them—Qingyue had enjoyed twelve years of glory and affection in place of Changle; now, she was only taking the blame for a mistake, not truly sacrificing her life. How could she be so overly sensitive?

The Marquis pondered for a moment before speaking. "Qingyue, after all, you have the backing of the Marquis of Huainan’s estate. The Heir will not truly do anything to you."

"Qingyue, be obedient. Just take the blame for Changle..."

"Qingyue..."

Each voice was sterner than the last, each one more oppressive. Before the next "Qingyue" could be uttered, Meng Qingyue bowed her head and agreed.

After all, whether she agreed sooner or later, she would have to agree in the end. In the final analysis, she was only an adopted daughter. In the face of a family of blood relatives, she had no room to argue.

"Then I shall go to the State Duke's residence tomorrow..."

Before Meng Qingyue could finish, Meng Xingzhou frowned and interrupted her. "There is no need to wait until tomorrow."

He glanced at the sky outside and then turned back, his tone colder than the falling snow. "While it is dark and snowing now, you will go and kneel before the State Duke’s residence. Only then can we show our estate’s sincerity."

His words were motivated both by his role as the heir planning for the Marquis’s house and by his role as a brother looking out for Meng Changle. The only thing he did not consider was Meng Qingyue—the sister he had once loved for years—and whether her frail body could withstand the biting winds and snow.

The Marquis and his wife hesitated for a moment, their eyes flickering over Meng Qingyue briefly before they both exhaled in relief.

"A brilliant plan."

The Marquis’s voice sounded relieved. "A daughter of our Marquis’s house kneeling in the snow to beg for forgiveness—now, even if the State Duke’s residence had a mountain of fury, it should be calmed!"

He turned and ordered those outside: "Come here—"

Meng Qingyue knelt in a daze. Outside, the snow danced wildly, and her expression finally revealed a hint of helplessness and panic.

She knew her father and brother would not help her, so she cast a sorrowful, imploring look toward the Marchioness. "Mother..."

In such heavy snow, one could be frozen to death!

She had been afraid of the cold since she was a child. Back then, her mother would always gather her in her arms and place a hand warmer in her palms, terrified that she would catch a chill. On the day Meng Changle returned, only her mother had noticed her unease, embracing her and weeping, swearing that she would always be her precious daughter.

But facing Meng Qingyue’s pleading eyes, the Marchioness looked away, riddled with guilt.

"Qingyue, I am but a woman; how can I make such decisions? ...One must listen to your father and brother in all things..."