Chapter 8:

Just as the chill of vengeance settled over Shen Yuhan's study, a knock came at the outer door.

Ming'er flinched. Ah Zhu tensed like a taut bowstring.

A maid's voice filtered through the doorframe—sweet, proper, and tinged with a hint of false modesty.

"Eldest Miss, Madam Su invites you to the Main Hall. Master Shen is present as well."

Ming'er moved to open the door, but Shen Yuhan lifted a hand. "Did she say why?"

The maid hesitated. "No, only that it concerns family matters."

Shen Yuhan's smile didn't waver, but her eyes lost all warmth.

Family matters.

"Tell her I'll be there shortly," she said coolly.

Once the footsteps faded into the distance, Ah Zhu growled under her breath. "What kind of snake sends word like that so early in the day? Something's off."

Ming'er nodded nervously. "Miss, should we prepare anything? Bring documents? I can go ask the storeroom—"

"No need," Shen Yuhan cut in, already straightening her robes. "We don't bring evidence to a performance. We let them act first. Then we turn their own show into a funeral procession."

She paused to adjust the belt at her waist. The bruises from the pond were fading, but they served as a reminder—of what had been done, and what must be done in return.

"If I'm not mistaken," she continued, voice low, "Shen Yulan's maid has been sniffing around Osmanthus Courtyard again."

Ah Zhu scoffed. "That Xiao Ling? Shameless as ever. She's been hiding behind trees like a monkey for days. I nearly caught her twice."

Shen Yuhan's gaze sharpened. "She's found something."

The room quieted.

"She thinks she's uncovered a secret worth tattling over. Probably the ledgers. Bribing guards. Something that looks incriminating out of context."

Ming'er paled. "Th-then… what do we do?"

Shen Yuhan turned slowly, her eyes like the stillness before a storm. "Come near and I'll tell you." Shen Yuhan whispered something to her maids before turning on her heels and leaving her courtyard.

---

The main hall was steeped in tension, as heavy as the storm clouds gathering beyond the carved wooden windows. Even the wind outside dared not whistle.

Shen Yuhan stepped past the threshold, her figure framed against the doorway like a brushstroke on rice paper—serene, poised, and still. She was dressed plainly today, in a soft lavender robe with cloud motifs, her hair simply tied with a ribbon of ink-blue silk. No jewelry, no perfume—only the quiet defiance in her eyes spoke for her.

Her gaze swept across the room—and paused.

Su Wanning sat upright, expression demure, but a trace of cold satisfaction flickered behind her eyes. Shen Yulan stood beside her mother, dressed in a peach silk dress, eyes red as if she had been crying—her lower lip trembling in perfect rhythm to her sobs.

At the foot of the hall knelt Xiao Ling, the personal maid of Shen Yulan, her head lowered, face pale but proud. Beside her were two household guards, both kneeling as well, their foreheads slick with sweat. The kneeling posture alone told Shen Yuhan enough.

They were the scapegoats. Or pawns. Or both.

At the head seat sat Shen Zhirui, Shen family patriarch and general, dressed in his formal dark robe, the embroidery of cranes almost swallowed by the gloom of his expression. His face was carved from stone, eyes bloodshot with restrained fury.

Shen Yuhan stepped forward and bowed with neither hesitation nor fear.

"Father. Mother." She then lifted her head calmly. "You summoned me?"

Before either parent could reply, Shen Yulan took a staggering step forward, her voice choking with carefully measured tears.

"Elder Sister… I didn't want things to come to this. I told Xiao Ling not to say anything, truly I did. But… but she said she couldn't bear to see the household rules broken like this. She told me you bribed the guards… and took the ledgers without permission…"

She wiped away nonexistent tears, glancing at Shen Yuhan with an expression of betrayal crafted to perfection.

"I told her not to speak, truly, but she… she said she was only doing her duty. I… I don't know what to do…"

Su Wanning placed a hand on her daughter's arm, gently pulling her back.

"Yulan, enough. This isn't your fault. It's not wrong to speak the truth, even if it brings pain."

She turned her gaze to Shen Yuhan now, eyes filled with soft disappointment.

"Yuhan, we understand if you were simply curious. But the household has rules for a reason. Stealing ledgers and bribing guards—these aren't things a noble daughter should do. Especially not the eldest daughter."

Their voices were soft. Gentle. Each word coated in honey, but dipped in venom.

Each line only darkened Shen Zhirui's face further, until, with a sudden roar, he stood and flung the porcelain teacup beside him.

It shattered against the stone floor, barely missing Shen Yuhan's head—scalding tea splattering near her feet.

If she had been a second slower, that cup might have struck her forehead. The hot tea might have scarred her face.

The quiet gasp from the servants in the shadows was drowned out by Shen Zhirui's thunderous voice.

"Still have the audacity to ask why I summoned you? If you hadn't secretly bribed guards and stolen ledgers, would I have raised my hand at you?!"

His face was red with fury, veins taut at his temple. But more than that, Shen Yuhan saw something else in his eyes.

Hatred.

There it was—just a flicker. Subtle. Unspoken. And yet, undeniable.

She stood motionless, her gaze dropping to the shards of porcelain now scattered like bones at her feet. In that moment, a foreign feeling stirred deep within her chest.

A strange bitterness. A cold, aching resentment.

And it wasn't hers.

It wasn't the transmigrated Shen Yuhan, the assassin from another world, who felt this.

It was the real Shen Yuhan—the girl who once loved her father, who once waited for his approval, only to be betrayed again and again.

The hatred surged like a buried tide.

But it vanished as quickly as it came. Shen Yuhan's expression remained composed.

She let out a low, almost amused chuckle. Her lips curled faintly as she lifted her gaze and asked—

"Father, what have I done to deserve such a warm welcome?"

Shen Zhirui slammed his hand down on the tea table beside him, sending the porcelain teapot wobbling.

"You dare play dumb? Bribing guards! Stealing ledgers! If not for your shameless acts, would I lose my temper like this?"

He looked ready to draw his sword—not from his waist, but from years of disappointment forged into blame.

Yet Shen Yuhan didn't flinch.

She tilted her head slightly and blinked, eyes clear and full of confusion.

"Bribing guards? Stealing ledgers? Father, are you sure? Why would I do that? If I wanted to read ledgers, couldn't I have just asked Mother to show them to me?"

She turned her eyes to Su Wanning, her tone still calm.

"I'm already thirteen and will turn fourteen in less than half a year. Isn't it about time I started learning to manage household affairs, Mother?"

For a moment, Su Wanning was stunned speechless.

The usual arrogance, the stammering, the childish tantrums—none of it was present.

Instead, this eldest daughter stood there like a mirror. Quiet. Unshakable.

It took Su Wanning a heartbeat to gather herself.

She forced a soft smile, though her fingers were clenched tightly beneath her sleeve.

"Yes, yes, of course it's appropriate for you to learn. However…" She gestured faintly to Xiao Ling, still kneeling. "This girl claims you didn't ask, but instead bribed the guards and snuck into the storeroom. Yuhan, perhaps you were simply shy? Or thought I wouldn't allow you?"

She smiled again, eyes glinting with false kindness.

But Shen Yuhan did not smile back.

Instead, she stepped forward and said—