Chapter One: Rebellion and Filial Disobedience

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The first snow had already fallen in Yangzhou City this November, and beneath its silvery mantle, the Changle Marquisate was steeped in an unusually stern atmosphere.

Inside the grand hall, the floor dragon was burning hot, thick felt curtains sealing off every trace of winter’s chill from the courtyard. Changle Marquis, resplendent in his authority, sat at the head of the room, his expression iron-dark. Beside him, a beautiful woman wore a look of deep worry and anxiety.

Before long, the curtain was lifted. Liang Shanru entered, brushing the snow from her shoulders as she did, carrying the cold air of the outdoors with her.

“You shameless wretch, kneel before me!” Changle Marquis, just past forty and in his prime, thundered with a voice like a great bell. His large hand slammed the rosewood armrest so hard it nearly split in two.

“My lord—” the lady began.

“Be silent! You’ve always spoiled her, indulged her into what she is now, and you still dare plead for her?” Changle Marquis did not spare even a glance for his wife, Lady Zhou.

Having finished his tirade, he glared at Liang Shanru, who stood tall and unyielding in the center of the hall, only growing more incensed. “Insolent girl! Attend me!”

A young servant entered at his call, but, glancing at Liang Shanru, none dared approach.

Liang Shanru lifted her eyelids at last, finally showing a response. Her voice, clear as an oriole’s, melodious and graceful—even in its calm, chilly tone—carried a faint trace of coquettishness: “All I did was go out for a cup of tea. Why has that so angered Uncle? Or perhaps someone has whispered half-truths into your ear, causing this misunderstanding?”

Her lips curled in a tilt of mockery; instead of kneeling, she walked straight over to an official’s hat chair and sat down. “I saw my cousin sister often goes out, mingling with scions of noble families, and Uncle always praises her abilities. I only accepted Madam Xu’s invitation to tea, though her brother happened to be present—besides, Young Master Xu and I have been betrothed since childhood. Even if it’s not yet publicly announced, both families know of it.

So how does this, in Uncle’s eyes, become shamelessness?”

Changle Marquis narrowed his eyes at her for a long time, a hint of surprise in their depths, though his face remained impassive.

Liang Shanru had always been obedient, even to the point of meekness. For her to speak back now, it could only be that the marriage business had pushed her to desperation.

Lady Zhou hurried to intercede. “My lord, please don’t let your anger get the better of you. At least listen to what the child has to say. Now you see, she’s been wrongly accused, hasn’t she?”

The worry faded from her face as she rose and moved closer to Liang Shanru, her manner full of maternal affection. “The snow outside hasn’t stopped. On such a cold day, you’re so frail—aren’t you afraid of catching cold? What tea could possibly be worth such trouble?”

“So it wasn’t Aunt herself who told Uncle I had a secret rendezvous with Young Master Xu?” Liang Shanru feigned surprise, her words instantly rejecting all of Lady Zhou’s kindness. “But today’s plans were known only to Aunt and Cousin. If it wasn’t you, then it must have been Cousin.”

For a moment, Lady Zhou’s kindly expression collapsed. “Shanru, you—”

She seemed heartbroken, sighing as she returned to her seat, ignoring Liang Shanru thereafter.

Changle Marquis flared up again: “What betrothal? Who acknowledges it! Since there was an unrelated man at the gathering, you should have left immediately and come home.

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Your marriage is imminent—if word of this reaches the Li family, do you think they’ll still want you? Liang Shanru, do not bring disgrace upon the Changle Marquisate; leave some posthumous honor for your father as well!”

Liang Shanru lowered her gaze, suppressing her emotions. “Is it that I have said I will not marry into the Li family and Uncle refuses to understand, or is it because the so-called ‘unrelated man’ at today’s gathering was Young Master Xu, and Uncle has set his sights on him for Cousin, intending to send a matchmaker to propose? Is that why you lecture me so harshly now?”

“How dare you!” Changle Marquis shot to his feet. “Since ancient times, marriages have been arranged by parents’ command and the matchmaker’s word. You dare defy this?

What’s wrong with the Li family? With your current status, to marry into such a wealthy and noble house is an immense honor, yet you sit here dragging your cousin into it. Do not think that just because the Third Prince has always shielded you, you can act with impunity!

His Highness is far away in Shengjing, and in any case, he cannot decide your marriage. I advise you to behave and abandon such hopes!”

Truly enraged now, he barked at those around him, “Bind her and send her to the small Buddhist hall. Without my permission, no one is to release her!”

At the mention of the Buddhist hall, Liang Shanru’s pupils contracted; her face turned instantly pale.

In her previous life, when Changle Marquis and his wife forced her to marry Li Liu, she had refused, argued for three days, and had been sent to kneel in that very hall as punishment.

Their villainy had known no bounds—using incense to drug her in the supposed sanctity of the Buddhist hall, intending to spirit her away to the Li family and, once the deed was done, leave her no choice but to marry.

It was in that hall that all the miseries of her past life had begun!

“I dare you.” Her thoughts snapped in two. Liang Shanru could no longer remain seated; she sprang to her feet, and as the servants hesitated, she drew a small, elegant dagger from her sleeve.

It was the very blade her father had meant as a thirteenth birthday gift, given early before he marched off to war—he had spoken many words then, fearing he might miss her birthday. As fate would have it, he never returned to Yangzhou.

The sheath was beautiful, inlaid with gems; though the blade had not yet emerged, the look in Liang Shanru’s eyes was enough to chill the blood—she gazed at them as though they were already dead. No one dared come any nearer.

“Treason! Utter defiance!” Changle Marquis, beside himself with rage, made to seize her himself.

But the moment the blade flashed free, his steps faltered.

Murderous intent blazed in Liang Shanru’s lovely apricot eyes as she fixed her gaze on Changle Marquis. “My father is dead, my mother gone—who dares claim dominion over me? I call you Uncle, Marquis of Changle, but do you truly think yourself my elder?”

Changle Marquis, half-laughing in his fury, while Lady Zhou, who had paled at the sight of the dagger, now recovered, softening her voice: “Shanru, Shanru! We are family—what is this? The clan register has never struck your uncle or your name; you still bear the Liang name. How can the Marquis not be your elder?

To draw a blade on your uncle within the household is a crime—cease this madness at once.”

“You know well enough why my father’s name remains in the register. It is not we who are unwilling to leave the Liang family’s record.” Liang Shanru drew a deep breath, closing her eyes for a heartbeat.

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The hypocrisy of this couple was revolting.

The Li family marriage was only the beginning. Soon the Third Prince would send someone to rescue her, taking her to Shengjing for protection.

Half a year later, the Emperor himself would bestow a marriage, and she would wed into the martial Dingwu Marquisate.

She had once believed the Third Prince godlike, worthy of all trust, never imagining his rescue was merely a calculated move in his own game.

Later, when she stumbled upon the truth by chance, even her death came silently—a mere note of sudden illness, and no one ever asked again.

When her tightly shut eyes snapped open once more, even the corners were veined with crimson.

A wave of boundless hatred surged in Liang Shanru’s gaze, startling the Marquis and his wife.

Her voice, colder than before and edged with a biting chill, stung sharper than the winter wind: “Half a month before my father set out on campaign, he made it clear to you, Marquis—open the ancestral hall, strike us from the clan record, we would move to the General’s estate and have nothing more to do with the Changle Marquisate. Do you remember what you said?”

Changle Marquis, a blustering coward at heart, was truly frightened by the dagger in her hand. Forcing himself to calm, he replied, “Your grandmother remarried into the Marquisate when your father was just four. It was the Marquisate that fed and raised him, taught him. Now that he’s won glory in war, he wishes to sever ties? Liang Shanru, do you and your father feel no shame?”

But that was a lie!

Her mother had always said her father’s childhood in the Marquisate was far from easy. After her grandmother remarried, she bore only one daughter, always feeling she owed her late husband. Even as a Marchioness, she spent her life in caution and humility.

And Changle Marquis? From childhood he had bullied her father and aunt. Her grandfather, for all his affection, could not erase the difference—one a true son, the other an outsider. In the end, blood would always tell.

Her father’s military achievements were carved out on the battlefield, earned by his own blood—never by the favor of the Changle Marquisate!

Liang Shanru’s blade darted toward Changle Marquis’ face. “And you think yourself worthy to insult my father!”

She had no intention of harming a titled noble, merely to intimidate. The blade stopped less than three inches from his face.

Changle Marquis, still in shock, raged: “Your father lost an army of a hundred thousand—only the Emperor’s benevolence, in light of his years of service and death in battle, and his regard for the loyal service of the Marquisate spared you all! Liang Shanru, if you persist in such rebellion and filial impiety, I shall send you to the authorities today and let the prefect judge your case!”