Chapter Thirteen: Are You Really My Mother?

Jiang Lingyao tugged at the corner of her mouth, forcing herself to withdraw her hand. "Prince Pei, you’ve crossed the line."

"You—"

Pei Xingzhi’s words caught in his throat, his eyes filled only with pain. "Did you get hurt in the temple?"

What use was it to ask now?

Every moment since arriving at the temple, Jiang Lingyao had hoped Jiang Xiuyuan would come to protect her. When her knees went numb from kneeling, she still couldn’t stop longing for Pei Xingzhi’s arrival.

If he had come, they surely would have restrained themselves. But because no one in the Jiang family paid attention, and Pei Xingzhi, her fiancé, remained indifferent, those people grew more reckless—cold words at first, then physical blows.

She had been completely abandoned; they didn’t want her.

As this thought crossed her mind, a sudden question arose.

She wanted to ask Pei Xingzhi if he had any knowledge of the torment she endured in the temple throughout the year. Even considering their childhood friendship and their engagement, did he not feel a shred of pity?

So his coldness extended to her as well.

Even though their families had agreed that once she returned from the temple, the engagement would be formalized with the exchange of betrothal letters.

But opening her mouth, she lost the will to ask.

Forget it. She would be leaving soon. Whatever he thought or felt had nothing to do with her.

Pei Xingzhi, wounded by the coldness in her eyes, fled almost in panic, speaking to her retreating figure: "Mingzhu, next month is my birthday. On that day, I will give you an explanation."

His nature was aloof and indifferent; it was unusual for him to inquire today.

He glanced at her deeply, then instructed the guards, "Investigate everything that happened this past year. Whoever bullied her, not a single one is to be spared!"

"Yes."

...

At nightfall, Jiang Lingyao and Wen Qiu huddled together in a side room that had not been burned.

After the fire, no one at the estate dared approach Mingzhu Courtyard. Jiang Lingyao never imagined that she and Wen Qiu would be forgotten like this, left alone amidst the ruins until late at night. Eventually, they simply slept in the side room, pulling out old bedding and holding each other tightly.

The side room had been abandoned for many years; it was not as warm as her chamber, and the quilts smelled of mildew. Yet, this was the most peaceful night she had slept in all year. Forgotten by everyone, no one came back to harm her, and Wen Qiu, who guarded her with all her heart, was right beside her.

She was dazed for a moment when roused by the noise in the courtyard.

"Where is Mingzhu? What do you mean you can’t find her? Go look for her!"

"She’s alive—how could she just disappear?"

Opening the door, she met the astonished gaze of Lady Jiang. Jiang Lingyao pressed her lips together and bowed respectfully. "Mother."

"Mingzhu?" Lady Jiang’s eyes reddened instantly. She hurried forward to grasp her hand. "You slept here last night?"

"Yes," Jiang Lingyao replied calmly. "The side room is fine, so I stayed here."

Her tone was steady. Hearing this, Lady Jiang’s tears fell in torrents, her eyes filled with anguish. "You've suffered. It’s my fault. I will arrange the best courtyard for you right away!"

"Someone, prepare Yunting Garden and have Mingzhu move in."

Jiang Lingyao did not refuse. Looking at Lady Jiang’s anxious face, the same question she had yesterday stirred again in her heart.

"My health has been poor, and since your return, I haven’t had a chance to speak properly with you. Mingzhu, I know you like lotus pastries. I made them myself early this morning. Try them and see if they taste the same as before."

Lady Jiang’s voice was hoarse from crying. "If I hadn’t come early today, I wouldn’t have known you actually stayed here last night! Wait, I’m going to have a word with your eldest brother!"

Her tears fell on the back of Jiang Lingyao’s hand, burning hot enough to make her flinch, causing a sharp sting to rise.

She was her mother—the one who gave her flesh and blood, and one of the people Jiang Lingyao missed most during her time in the temple.

"Mingzhu, I know you blame me. But I was afraid the rumors about you mistreating the benefactor’s daughter would spread. What would happen then? Everyone in the capital would gossip about you and call you ungrateful. How could I dare allow that?"

She cried so bitterly that Jiang Lingyao’s heart trembled.

Lady Jiang then broke into a wrenching cough; Jiang Lingyao remained silent.

So, she cared so much after all?

Her heart trembled, but she did not expect Lady Jiang to say again, "Mingzhu, just let Lian’er marry with you, alright? I’m doing this for your own good. How could I ever harm you?"

Jiang Lingyao felt as if plunged into an icy cellar.

Though she had guessed Lady Jiang wouldn’t come without reason, hearing her ask so without hesitation made her heart shiver.

She stared at Lady Jiang’s lips moving wordlessly, then couldn’t help but ask, "Mother, am I really your daughter?"

How could a mother be so cruel, abandoning her own child over baseless gossip?

She claimed it was for her good, yet the pain coursing through her body reminded her of all the suffering she endured. If she truly cared, why did she turn a blind eye to her wounds?

Just yesterday, she had barely escaped death’s door, yet today, upon her arrival, there was no word of concern—only thoughts of the past engagement.

Jiang Lingyao fixed her gaze on Lady Jiang and didn’t miss the sudden tears that fell when she heard her question. Lady Jiang gripped her hand tightly, trembling as if on the verge of collapse, and said in a broken voice, "How could you not be? Mingzhu, you are the child I gave birth to with great toil, the child I raised with my own hands!"