Chapter 46: Tea Leaves and Hidden Agendas

The cold had crept in overnight, turning the tiled floors beneath Jia Lan's feet icy as she slid into her soft wool slippers. From outside her bedroom window, faint sunlight filtered through the curtain lace, warming the golden edge of her vanity. She wrapped her hair into a neat bun and layered a cream turtleneck beneath a tailored brown wool skirt. Her favorite suede boots clacked lightly as she walked to her desk and flipped open her diary.

> "Day 6 of Aunt Meihua's endless visit. I thought she'd be gone in three. Her presence is like cold porridge: persistent and impossible to enjoy."

In the dining room, breakfast was tense. Aunt Lin Meihua sat a little too straight, the false graciousness in her smile tighter than her overdone bun. Her husband, Uncle Liu, looked haggard, as if he hadn't slept.

She waited until Jia Lan reached for her tea.

"Lanlan," Meihua began smoothly, "we were only thinking of your future. I mentioned previously—my husband's cousin may be a bit older, but he's dependable. And you're already of age so…"

Mother Jia's expression tightened. "You've said enough, Meihua."

But the woman pressed on. "It's for her own good. These days, it's hard to find a proper man. You don't want her ending up alone, do you?"

Father Jia set his cup down sharply. "You've tried to interfere enough. If you cared about her good, you wouldn't suggest a man twice her age who's been dismissed from two workplaces and reeks of baijiu."

Uncle Liu cleared his throat nervously. "Meihua… maybe we should let it go. Lanlan has her own future."

But Meihua ignored him.

Jia Lan's expression was cool as porcelain. "If this is about what's good for me, shouldn't I be the one to say no?"

Meihua's smile faltered.

Cousin Ming, up till now silent, awkwardly added, "Mother's just saying… it's hard for girls to get a good match now. You should be realistic."

Jia Wei leaned forward. "And you should learn when to shut up."

Grandfather Jia spoke for the first time. "This matter ends now. Meihua, you've overstayed your welcome and your decency."

The room fell silent.

Later that afternoon, Aunt Meihua sat alone in the courtyard, her knitting needles motionless. Her expression, cold and bitter, flickered with something deeper—envy, old and unresolved.

She remembered being younger, always one step behind Jia Lan's mother. In school, it was her cousin who earned the teacher's praise. In youth, it was her cousin who married a man from a powerful household. She had chosen Liu because he was easy to control, not out of love.

"She always gets everything," Meihua muttered. "Even her daughter walks like a blooming phoenix."

Mother Jia stepped into the courtyard then, carrying a thermos of chrysanthemum tea. She set it down with calm elegance. "Meihua, stop comparing lives you don't understand. You've built your bitterness like a shrine."

Meihua scoffed, "And you've built your life on luck. Always admired. Always doted on. I only wanted fairness."

"Luck?" Mother Jia's voice sharpened. "I worked night shifts at the textile factory while raising two sons and studying by oil lamp. If that's your definition of luck, I'll wrap it up and send it to you as a gift."

Meihua snapped, "You always thought you were better. Just because you married well, had good children, and live in a bigger house. You think you're some kind of heroine."

Mother Jia's gaze didn't waver. "No. I think I tried to live a clean life. And I never had to drag others down to feel tall. You tried to force my daughter into a joke of a marriage—just to make yourself feel powerful for once."

"And what of it?" Meihua hissed. "At least I don't pretend to be perfect."

"No one asked you to pretend anything," Mother Jia said coldly. "We only asked you to act like family. And you failed at even that."

Meihua scoffed, "And you've built your life on luck. Always admired. Always doted on. I only wanted fairness."

"You wanted to ruin my daughter's future with a man twice her age and half her decency," Mother Jia replied, her eyes sharp. "If that's your idea of fairness, then I pity you."

Just then, Jia Lan appeared behind her mother. "Aunt Meihua, if you really cared about me, you might've offered me a cookbook, not a cousin twice removed with no teeth and less ambition."

"You dare mock your elders?" Meihua snapped, flushing.

"I mock nonsense, no matter who says it," Jia Lan replied, serene as a spring breeze. "Respect is earned, not inherited like bad jewelry."

Meihua stood abruptly, her chair scraping. "You ungrateful brat—"

Mother Jia raised a hand, calm but firm. "Enough. We let you stay in our home, not shame it."

Uncle Liu walked in, sighing. "You're not doing Lanlan any good, Meihua. This bitterness of yours—when will it end?"

Meihua glared. "You wouldn't understand. All your life you've been satisfied being second."

"You mean I'm satisfied not hurting people," he said gently.

Cousin Ming shuffled over, shrugging. "You're going too far, Mother. Even I can see that girl's out of our league. Trying to drag her down won't make us rise."

Meihua looked away, cheeks flushing with shame.

In her room, Jia Lan wrote:

> "Aunt Meihua wants me to marry mediocrity out of spite. But I won't play martyr in her private war. I'm not her daughter, and I won't inherit her regrets."

She closed the diary with care. Below her window, a gust of wind blew petals off the garden chrysanthemum. Winter was coming.

So were departures.

✅ The chapter has been updated with a sharper, more emotionally charged confrontation between Jia Lan's mother and Aunt Meihua:

We've added more bitter dialogue and personal accusations rooted in Meihua's long-held resentment.

Mother Jia responds with poise and subtle fire, showing her strength without shouting.

The scene better reveals the family's emotional history, giving more depth to both characters.