Wen Tian and Fu Youqin had already made up their minds to break off the engagement. The mother and son sat quietly together, each sipping their tea in silence
Madam Jiao tried several times to strike up a conversation with Fu Youqin, only to be scared off by her cold demeanor.
Wen Boli, on the other hand, acted as if nothing had happened, chatting cordially with Mr. Jiao.
Wen Tian perked up his ears to eavesdrop on their conversation.
Mr. Jiao kept bringing up an upcoming gathering, apparently one attended by all the scholars and candidates of Nanming County, and even hosted personally by the county magistrate himself.
Wen Tian couldn’t understand all the nuances, but the name of the Nanming County Magistrate was unforgettable to him.
In his previous life, it was through that magistrate’s recommendation that Wen Boli managed to land a middling local official post.
With his gift for social maneuvering—and the Wen family’s financial backing—his career soared. He rose from a small-town official in Sifang to a prominent post in the imperial capital, Qingyang.
Just as the family was preparing to relocate to Qingyang, Wen Boli brought the mistress he had hidden for years into the household.
That mistress, Bai Ruihe, relying on Wen Boli’s favor, threw her weight around the Wen family. Even her illegitimate son, Wen Zeming, was paraded around at social functions by Wen Boli.
Meanwhile, Wen Tian—the legitimate eldest son—was seen as a pampered weakling, good for nothing, and could only watch helplessly as the concubine overtook the main wife’s position.
His mother, unable to swallow the insult, resolutely divorced Wen Boli—only to discover that he had long colluded with local officials to seize her dowry.
She and her son were thrown out with nothing.
Wen Tian clenched his jaw and stared hard at Mr. Jiao. So it was him—he was the one who introduced the county magistrate to Wen Boli.
No wonder they’d been turned away when they once begged the Jiao family for help, only to be mocked.
No wonder Jiao Changxian later divorced his sister and even caused her child’s death—then turned around and married Bai Ruihe’s niece.
All the lofty rhetoric was just smoke and mirrors. In truth, they were all cut from the same cloth—snakes in the same pit.
Wen Tian’s fingers, hidden inside his sleeve, curled into a tight fist.
He sat perfectly still as Mr. Jiao casually said, “Brother Wen, the engagement between Changxian and Shuyue has been delayed long enough. Now that Youling is back, we shouldn’t put it off any longer.”
“I had someone check the almanac—the fifth of February is an auspicious date. What do you think?”
Wen Boli paused, glanced at his wife’s suddenly darkened expression, and cautiously replied, “Isn’t the fifth of February a bit rushed?”
Madam Jiao smiled and chimed in, “Not at all. Everything’s already prepared. If we wait any longer, the next good date isn’t until March.”
The two spoke in perfect sync, completely ignoring Fu Youqin and Wen Tian, who were seated right beside them.
Fu Youqin let out a cold laugh, glanced at her husband—clearly already in agreement with the Jiaos—and said icily, “This marriage will not happen.”
Mr. Jiao’s face fell. Madam Jiao immediately interjected, “Qin-niang, we’ve known each other for years. If you ask me, such matters should be left to the men to decide.”
“We womenfolk don’t know better and shouldn’t meddle. Shuyue marrying into the Jiao family is a fine match.”
“Then why don’t you ask the entire Wen family—who really calls the shots here?”
Fu Youqin stood up. Her usual gentle expression had turned glacial, sharp enough to draw blood. She stared frostily at her husband, not sparing him the slightest face.
“The plaque on the main gate may now read ‘Wen,’ but that doesn’t mean this entire household answers to you. You want to trade away Shuyue for your career? You’ll have to get through me first.”
She turned to the steward.
“Throw them out. And while you’re at it, inform everyone: the Wen family is officially breaking off the engagement with the Jiao family.””
“Due to Jiao Changxian’s immoral behavior, we refuse to associate with such disgrace.”
“Yes, madam!” Steward Ji replied, not even glancing at Wen Boli. He ran off and soon returned with several strong servants, ready to drag the Jiaos out.
“You’ve gone too far!” Mr. Jiao’s face flushed red as he struggled against the servants. He shouted at Wen Boli, “You promised us! You said this marriage would happen!”
Humiliated first by his wife and now berated by his in-laws, Wen Boli nearly spat blood. But he still needed Mr. Jiao to help him get close to the magistrate.
The Wen family had wealth but no political connections. He had spent half his life yearning to enter officialdom—he couldn’t let this opportunity slip away.
“Enough!” he shouted with a dark expression.
“Is this how the Wen family treats guests? What kind of conduct is this?!”
The servants hesitated and looked to the steward for instructions. Steward Ji didn’t even blink. With a nod from him, the workers continued dragging the Jiaos toward the door.
Mr. Jiao wrestled with the servants, Madam Jiao shrieked as she tried to protect her fine clothing—it was her best outfit, and she couldn’t afford to replace it if it got torn.
Suddenly, Jiao Changxian—who had stayed silent all this time—fell to his knees with a loud thud.
With tears streaming down his face, he pleaded to Fu Youqin, “Auntie, I was framed! Please… let me see Shuyue one more time. I swear she’ll understand me—I truly love her!”
Fu Youqin’s gaze was full of disdain.
“Shuyue? You dare call her that? I’m afraid your words will dirty her ears.”
“Uncle Ji, throw them out. No need to waste more time,” Wen Tian said coldly, tired of the Jiao family’s pathetic display.
“Wait,” came a gentle voice from behind the screen.
Wen Shuyue stepped out slowly, her maid trailing behind her.
“Jie…” Wen Tian looked at her, worried.
She shook her head slightly and walked gracefully up to Jiao Changxian.
“I’m here now. What did you want to say?”
Hope lit up in Jiao Changxian’s eyes. Tears streamed down as he reached out to grab her hand—but she stepped back. Her expression remained calm and unreadable.
“I’m right here,” she repeated.
“What is it you want to say?”
His hand grasped at air, and for a moment he froze. But seeing that her face wasn’t completely hostile, he remained on his knees, staring up at her earnestly.
“Shuyue, you have to believe me. Those rumors—they’re all lies! That night… I was drugged, I wasn’t in control of myself!”
“You know how long I’ve waited for you. I was finally going to marry you. How could I possibly have done something like that? I’ve never even had a single concubine or maidservant!”
Wen Shuyue’s expression wavered slightly, and Wen Tian tensed. If his sister wavered, what should he do?
But then she spoke again, softly:
“I thought the least you could do was apologize.”
Jiao Changxian blinked, confused.
“Dengxiu, give me the booklet.”
The maid handed her a small booklet. Shuyue passed it to him with the same gentle grace as always, but something in her voice made his spine go cold.
“Have a look.”
He flipped it open—and his face turned pale.
Inside were detailed records of his involvement with various prostitutes, along with names of hidden mistresses and even an illegitimate child the Jiao family had tried to keep secret.
The later pages listed the Jiao family’s debts in full detail.
Shuyue watched him crumble with quiet composure.
“I asked Daifu to investigate, just to make sure I wasn’t wronging you. Turns out you’re filthier than I imagined.”
She paused.
“The Jiao family insisted on this marriage, probably just to get their hands on my dowry, right?”
Standing tall and poised, her words cut sharper than any blade. Jiao Changxian opened his mouth, but no defense came out.
The Jiao family, though known as scholars, was deep in debt. To maintain appearances, they spent extravagantly each year.
When he first got engaged to Shuyue, there may have been genuine affection, but over time, his parents’ constant nagging wore him down.
Eventually, any real feelings were buried beneath a life of indulgence and rebellion.
Shuyue looked down at him one last time, then pulled out a white jade pendant from her sleeve. It was a matching pair of mandarin duck pendants—his and hers. He had given it to her when she came of age.
“Here, take it back. This engagement is over.”
She tossed the pendant in front of him and turned away, leaving with her maid without even a second glance.
“Shuyue!” he cried out.
The jade struck the floor with a clear crack and split cleanly in two. Watching her walk away, something inside Jiao Changxian finally twisted with regret.
“Shameless!” her maid spat as she doubled back to glare at him.
“You think you can still call her name? Miss Wen is far above the likes of you.”
With that, she turned and ran to catch up with her mistress.
“Uncle Ji, see them out,” Wen Tian said coldly.
And so, the farce came to an end.
Madam Jiao opened her mouth to say something, but Jiao Changxian cut her off. Under the glares of the Wen servants, the Jiao family slunk out in utter disgrace.
As they passed through the gate, townsfolk paused in curiosity, whispering as they watched the disheveled Jiao family leave the Wen estate.
“Isn’t that Young Master Jiao? Why does he look like he got kicked out?”
Another scoffed, “You didn’t hear? The night before the wedding, he went to a brothel, overdosed on aphrodisiacs, and bedded four women in one night. Didn’t even show up to the wedding the next day!”
“Despicable!” a bystander gasped.
“The Jiao family’s full of scholars! Aren’t scholars supposed to have some decency?”
“Pfft. Scholars are the most hypocritical of all…”
The Jiao family stiffened as they overheard the whispers but didn’t dare turn around.
Heads down, they climbed into their carriage and fled the scene in shame.