Seven Blossoms of the Twin Begonia Hairpin

On the snowy night, she knelt down; in the bitter winter, she fell into the water. Even a body forged of iron could not endure such trials.

Meng Qingyue had been bedridden these past few days. As the warm midday sun began to rise, she was about to enjoy a good rest when a maid arrived with a message.

“Miss, the household has just received some new fabrics. Madam requests that you come to the main hall to select some you like.”

Cui’er was somewhat displeased. “Our young lady is still ill. If the fabrics are so urgent, must she really go choose them today...?”

“Cui’er.”

Meng Qingyue struggled to rise, cutting her off, then turned to the maid. “Thank you for your effort. I will change and come right away.”

She had always harbored a faint hope for her mother.

Though her childhood memories were hazy, she knew that from as far back as she could recall, her mother had cradled her with tender care.

Even after Meng Changle returned to the estate and overnight she became the enemy of all, only her mother held her close, whispering, “Our Yue’er, don’t cry,” genuinely worrying over her future.

For many matters, she understood her mother had her own difficulties, so she was unwilling to insist on understanding everything clearly and chose instead to muddle through life.

After all, this was her only home, her only mother. Could she really bear a grievance and storm off in anger?

Upon arriving at the main hall, she saw a row of exquisite jewelry and fabrics laid out on the table. Meng Qingyue was certain she was merely here to choose fabrics today, nothing more, which softened her heart somewhat.

“Please offer my respects to mother.”

Madam Meng smiled apologetically. “Qingyue, this row has been picked out by me to send to the Duke of Zhen Guo’s residence. Neither you nor Changle should touch them.”

Meng Qingyue’s expression turned surprised. Madam Meng smiled gently. “His lady will return to the manor in a month. Madam Qiao has never raised a daughter and fears her selections won’t please the child, so she entrusted me to choose some for her.”

Meng Qingyue fell silent, her eyes lingering on the dazzling jewels before her, a hint of envy rising in their depths.

The Duchess... treats her daughter so well...

Even such trivial details were so thoughtfully prepared in advance.

She knew she owed the Marquis’s family for her upbringing, yet at this moment, she could not help but envy that duke’s daughter dearly loved by her mother.

Madam Meng’s eyes flickered slightly, then she took down a double-petal begonia hairpin and smiled, beckoning, “Qingyue, come over.”

Meng Xingzhou, quietly reading nearby, looked up at the mention. His gaze fell upon the hairpin, where the pair of begonia blossoms intertwined, and he furrowed his brows slightly, barely perceptible.

What is mother up to?

Madam Meng pinned the hairpin in Meng Qingyue’s temple and looked at her intently. “Qingyue, do you like this hairpin?”

Meeting her mother’s earnest eyes, Meng Qingyue pressed her lips together. “I like it very much.” Warmth and joy slowly filled her heart.

Madam Meng released a breath she seemed to have been holding.

The double-petal begonia, symbolizing pairs and unity, was exactly Qingyue’s favorite.

If she intended to propose a marriage for Qingyue, surely she would not refuse.

A faint smile curled Madam Meng’s lips, yet beside her, Meng Xingzhou’s brows twisted into a knot. When his eyes landed on the pair of matching hairpins at Qingyue’s temple, a complex expression flashed across his face.

That foolish Qingyue—did she not realize that their mother was testing her feelings, hoping to arrange a match for her?

Troubled, he saw the happiness on Qingyue’s face and his displeasure only worsened, festering into resentment.

He stepped forward sharply. “Today is for choosing hairpins and jewelry for Changle. Why are you stirring up trouble? Changle is getting married; are you planning to marry too? Take that hairpin off and give it back to Changle!”

Meng Qingyue, just beginning to feel a flicker of happiness, was caught off guard by Meng Xingzhou’s interruption and froze. “But mother said this hairpin suits me...”

“Suits you?”

Meng Xingzhou sneered, his proud gaze scrutinizing her from head to toe, his mockery blatant. “Is it that whenever Changle has something, you must snatch it away, then use someone else’s words to say it suits you? Meng Qingyue, since when did you become so vain?”

Meng Qingyue felt that leaving her room today had been her greatest mistake.

Even a clay figure would have a temper. She sneered, “Mother asked me to come choose jewelry and pinned this hairpin on me. If elder brother has grievances, he should take them up with mother!”

The hairpin swayed lightly by her temple as she spoke. Meng Xingzhou found the double-petal begonia shining too brightly, so without hesitation, he stepped forward and violently knocked the hairpin from her hair.

With a sharp “snap,” the hairpin hit the ground, ringing out crisply.

Meng Qingyue’s raven-black hair cascaded down, messy and tangled against her neck and back.

Meng Xingzhou’s anger had yet to subside. He felt Qingyue did not understand his good intentions. If mother hurriedly arranged a match for her, what good family could she hope to find?

Growing more careless with his words, he spat out, “Don’t use mother to provoke me! Meng Qingyue, you’re a bastard child who doesn’t even know who your real parents are. How dare you act so confidently? This hairpin belongs to Changle and only Changle. You will never be worthy of such fine things in this lifetime!”

Bastard.

Meng Qingyue slowly savored the word and unexpectedly laughed. After a long while, she swallowed back her grievances and tears, speaking coldly, “Yes, what you say is true, Master Meng. I am indeed unworthy. But it’s laughable—though I am a bastard, you have been calling me your sister for twelve years!”

After all, he had called her sister for twelve years.

How could he turn his face and deny her so utterly, humiliating her so publicly?

Her heart ached sharply.

Quarreling with one’s own blood is a profound sorrow; losing brings pain, yet winning brings no joy.

Only after Meng Qingyue’s lonely figure had faded away did Madam Meng speak, neither harsh nor mild,

“Xingzhou, why are you sulking with your own sister for no reason?”

She was clearly displeased.

Meng Changle, who had been quietly watching, then spoke in a soft, gentle voice,

“Mother, elder brother is just confused because he cares. Besides, Qingyue is the youngest sister. If elder brother says a few words to her, does she really take it to heart?”