Chapter 47: Father and Brother
No matter how stern Jiang Quan appeared in public, he had never shown a dark expression before Jiang Susu. A faint smile surfaced as he reached out to pat her head. "I've brought some trinkets for you. They'll be sent to your room later."
Second Madam standing nearby flashed another look of envy. Among the four daughters of the Jiang household, only Jiang Susu could enjoy such special treatment.
Jiang Chao, who had been conversing with Old Madam Jiang, suddenly seemed to recall something. "Isn't Ruan Meimei back? Why haven't we seen her?"
Jiang Susu's smile froze, while Jiang Quan also appeared to have just remembered. His smile faded as his brows furrowed. Xia Yan was about to speak when a soft female voice sounded from the hall entrance: "Jiang Ruan greets Father."
Both Jiang Quan and Jiang Chao looked up to see a young woman in a deep red coat stepping forward gracefully. Her chest was adorned with large embroidered floral patterns, and her raven-black hair was pinned up with a pearl hairpin. Though her attire was simple, it was strikingly vibrant—yet even more dazzling was her beauty. Her skin was white as snow, lips red as cherries, and her eyes shimmered with endless emotion, though a faint trace of cool detachment lingered in their upturned corners, like fire and ice intertwined. If Jiang Susu was the epitome of mortal beauty, this girl before them was like a Malevolent spirit—a beauty beyond this world, every movement captivating.
She advanced steadily, her steps exuding elegance, stopping only when she stood before Jiang Quan. Softly, she said, "Father."
Only then did Jiang Quan and Jiang Chao snap out of their daze, both staring in disbelief at the eldest daughter of the Jiang family, who had just returned from the countryside. Compared to six years ago, Jiang Ruan seemed like an entirely different person, with not a trace of her former self remaining. Especially the way she had walked toward them—her gaze hazy and indistinct, as if she were someone from beyond this world, sending an inexplicable chill down their spines. Yet now she stood before them, smiling sweetly, as if that cold look had been nothing but an illusion.
Jiang Quan's scrutinizing gaze lingered on Jiang Ruan, but he remained silent. After a pause, Jiang Ruan slowly raised her head and met his eyes directly.
The moment she saw him, Jiang Ruan felt a fleeting daze, an indescribable mix of sorrow and bitterness rising in her heart. Jiang Quan was still in his prime, still the refined scholar he had always been. Yet before her eyes flashed the last memory of him from her past life—when her own father had mercilessly dragged her from her chambers to the grand hall, accusing her before the entire court as a Nation-destroying enchantress. She had collapsed to the ground, staring up at him in disbelief, only to be met with a look of icy indifference. The disdain in his eyes, as though she were nothing but a stain on his life, had chilled her to the bone.
Later, she had been imprisoned, tortured by Jiang Susu, and implicated the entire Zhao family. From her cell, she had heard of her father's meteoric rise—first to the highest rank of officialdom, then to the status of imperial father-in-law. When he donned his official robes, had he ever considered that the seal of his office bore her blood?
This was the kind of man Jiang Quan was. For Jiang Susu, for Jiang Chao, for Xia Yan, and for himself, he had treated her, Zhao Mei, and the entire Zhao family as mere stepping stones. In both her past life and this one, had he ever truly regarded them as family?
If back then, locked in that prison cell, she had only felt despair and confusion, now, facing him again, there was nothing left but hatred.Hatred—how could she not hate? To be turned into a human pig by Jiang Susu, utterly immobilized, forced to watch her own young child be toyed with by powerful officials—who could understand such heart-wrenching agony? To hear with her own ears the news of her entire family being executed, yet find no path to seek help—how could such grief and fury ever be put into words? Since hell refused to take someone like her and sent her back to the mortal world, how could she rest without making these people taste the torments of hell themselves? From the moment of her rebirth, she had already severed all familial ties with Jiang Quan, devoting herself wholeheartedly to revenge.
Her eyes widened slightly, the mist-like haze in them clearing somewhat. Looking deeper, there was only clarity, like a mountain spring flowing without a trace of impurity. The voice before her was soft as the wind, calling again, "Father?"
Jiang Quan snapped back to attention. His eldest daughter's smile was bright, yet it inexplicably stirred unease in his heart. He glanced at Jiang Ruan and said, "It's good that you're back," offering nothing more.
Such coldness made Lianqiao and Zisu behind her seethe with indignation, but Jiang Ruan acted as if she hadn't noticed. She turned to Jiang Chao with a smile. "Second Brother."
Jiang Chao was just as she remembered—sunny and cheerful in appearance, scratching his head sheepishly as he grinned back, "Ruan Meimei." Yet a flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes.
Xia Yan's two children were both masters at wearing masks. Back when Jiang Xin Zhi died, this second brother had treated her exceptionally well. Jiang Chao appeared to be an open and honest character, occasionally even acting a little foolish or taking losses—such a temperament made him someone everyone wanted to befriend. Especially for Jiang Ruan, who had lost Jiang Xin Zhi, she could find some semblance of warmth in this second brother.
But in truth, this seemingly guileless young man ended up marrying the treasured daughter of the current Right Minister, and from then on, the Right Minister became a supporter of the Eighth Prince.
Looking back now, all the events of her past life seemed like illusions. Her impression of Jiang Chao remained fixed on his attempt to use her beauty as a bargaining chip in official circles, and in the end, her entry into the palace was partly due to this "dear brother's" efforts. She still remembered his earnest assurance: "With your heavenly beauty, Meimei, you’re bound to win the Emperor’s favor once you enter the palace. Such boundless wealth and honor—it’s truly your good fortune."
Jiang Chao wore an indigo robe, lending his usually exuberant demeanor a touch of steadiness and a hint of nobility. Though he tried to conceal it, his speech and mannerisms had already taken on the air of an official. While Jiang Ruan found this despicable, Old Madam Jiang was thoroughly pleased. A rare trace of affection appeared on her stern face as she asked, "Chao'er will be taking the exams after the New Year. What does the Imperial Academy say?"
Jiang Chao's face broke into a wide grin, though he quickly suppressed it. "They didn’t say much."
"There shouldn’t be any problems," Jiang Quan glanced at Jiang Chao. "It’s just a matter of ranking. Either way, the necessary arrangements have already been made."
Second Madam's eyes gleamed as she covered her lips with a smile. "That’s wonderful. Both of Madam’s children are skilled in writing. Second Young Master is sure to earn a prestigious rank—I wouldn’t be surprised if he takes the top honors." Though Second Madam disliked Xia Yan, Jiang Quan always maintained appearances in the household. Besides, praising Jiang Chao would please Old Madam Jiang—flattery never hurt anyone.Old Madam Jiang indeed said, "Foolish, such words should not be spoken carelessly." Yet her face showed no trace of reproach, only a beaming smile. Jiang Chao joined in the laughter, and Xia Yan nudged Jiang Quan, prompting the entire room to erupt in mirth, appearing for all the world like a harmonious and affectionate family.
Just as the atmosphere reached its peak of congeniality, an unexpected voice interjected, "What is everyone discussing that brings such joy?"
Jiang Ruan's lips curled slightly as a graceful beauty glided in from outside. Compared to Xia Yan and the other concubines, she appeared remarkably youthful, dressed in an emerald-green cloud-and-wild-goose patterned robe with a misty butterfly skirt. Her hair was styled in a Hundred Flowers chignon, adorned not with hairpins but a single pale yellow plum blossom. As she approached with a gentle smile, she carried an ethereal beauty unlike the ordinary wives of officials—a natural, bone-deep fragility without the slightest affectation.
(End of Chapter)
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