You Stole My Husband, So I Seduced Your Son - Chapter 38

Gift exchanges between children were perfectly acceptable, nothing to fuss over. But after a day of being showered with praise, Zhou Minghai had long convinced himself that he was a dragon among men.

To have his daughter receive embroidered gifts while only being able to reciprocate with flower patterns was a stinging blow to his pride.

After a few cups of wine, his expression darkened. He glared at Ningning and snapped, “You’ve been learning embroidery for over a year. Can’t you even make a decent handkerchief?”

“It’s not that I can’t,” Ningning explained with a cheerful smile. “It’s just not as good as Liyue-jie’s. I didn’t want to embarrass myself.”

Clack! Zhou Minghai slammed his chopsticks on the table, his voice rising in anger. “If you can’t do it well, just admit it! Stop making excuses! All you do is play around all day. You’re old enough to make a presentable handkerchief! They give you embroidered gifts, and you reciprocate with flower patterns? Don’t you feel ashamed?”

This was the first time Ningning had ever been scolded so harshly, especially in front of guests. She froze, her eyes brimming with tears she stubbornly refused to let fall.

Song Xuwan felt a murderous rage toward Zhou Minghai. Her daughter was the finest girl in the world—why should she be compared to Min Rongxue?

She gently embraced Ningning and turned to glare fiercely at Zhou Minghai. Before she could speak, Nanny Yun swiftly stepped forward to block her.

“Madam, Master is drunk. If you argue with him, you’ll frighten Young Miss.”

At that moment, Song Xuwan noticed Ji Moyang immediately blocking Zhou Minghai, as if fearing he might fly into another drunken rage. He half-dragged, half-carried Zhou Minghai to his feet.

“Madam, Lord is drunk. I’ll help him back to his room to rest.”

Before Song Xuwan could react, Ji Moyang had already pushed Zhou Minghai out the door.

Song Xuwan trembled with fury, desperately wanting to poison Zhou Minghai with rat poison.

Once Zhou Minghai was far away, Ningning finally burst into tears, her voice trembling with fear. “Mother, does Father not love me?”

“Father is just drunk. He’ll regret this tomorrow morning, Ningning. Don’t be afraid.”

“Let me tell you, your Eldest Maternal Uncle once got drunk and tried to chop your Eldest Cousin with a knife. When he sobered up, the Old Madam beat him with her cane.”

“When people are drunk, they don’t know what they’re doing. If you’re really upset, we can go see the Old Madam tomorrow and have her beat him with her cane to vent your anger, okay?”

After finally calming Ningning down and leaving Nanny Yun to watch over her, Song Xuwan considered going to the study in the front courtyard to strangle Zhou Minghai.

In the front courtyard, Ji Moyang stared at Zhou Minghai, who was snoring like a pig in his drunken stupor. He slapped Zhou Minghai across the face, but the man only twitched slightly, remaining completely unconscious.

Ji Moyang was about to strike again when he heard a servant’s respectful greeting outside the door. Realizing it was Song Xuwan, he quickly stood up to offer her his seat.

Song Xuwan had just reached the doorway, forcing herself to endure the nauseating stench of alcohol. Seeing Ji Moyang present, she knew her chance to strangle Zhou Minghai had likely vanished.

She glanced indifferently at the sleeping Zhou Minghai and instructed the servant, “Attend to Master properly,” before turning to leave.

Ji Moyang froze for a moment, then hurried after her. He still remembered Song Xuwan’s terror and suppressed anger when Ningning was scolded at the dinner table—her fear and resentment, her fury she dared not voice.

He felt an overwhelming urge to protect this fragile woman, though he wasn’t yet sure what position he could claim to do so.

“Madam, please wait.”

Ji Moyang stopped five paces from Song Xuwan and bowed deeply. “Today’s incident was caused by my sister’s handkerchief. I offer my sincere apologies to you and your daughter.”

Song Xuwan’s desire for revenge against Zhou Minghai burned fiercely. She had no patience for formalities; she longed to catch him in bed with another woman right now. But Zhou Minghai was dead asleep.

“Then let’s meet tomorrow,” she said, her smile unsettling as she looked at Ji Moyang. “What brings you here?”

The question was redundant. Ostensibly, he was here to borrow books and deliver a handkerchief from Liyue. But Song Xuwan’s deliberate phrasing hinted at a deeper meaning.

Seeing the servant enter the study, leaving only Song Xuwan and her personal maid in the courtyard, Ji Moyang answered without pretense, “I was worried about you.”

“This isn’t the place to talk. Might Madam be able to leave the estate tomorrow?”

Ji Moyang seemed even more eager than she had anticipated. However, this matter required careful planning. She smiled ambiguously. “Ningning is in a foul mood. Tomorrow won’t work.”

“Then?”

“The day after tomorrow. I plan to visit the Exquisite Pavilion to buy Ningning a hairpin to cheer her up.”

With that, Song Xuwan turned and left. Ji Moyang stood under the moonlight, repeatedly savoring the words “Exquisite Pavilion,” finding them strangely intimate.

On the way back, Baizhi asked curiously, “Madam, isn’t the Exquisite Pavilion one of your dowry shops? Why not just have them deliver what you want? Why bother…”

“Baizhi,” Song Xuwan said softly, “just do as I say. Don’t ask why, don’t speculate. Simply follow my instructions without error.”

“Yes, Madam. This servant will never speak out of turn again.”

After standing under the moonlight for a long moment to compose herself, Song Xuwan made her decision. “There’s a river behind the Exquisite Pavilion, lined with secluded courtyards. Tomorrow, rent one that’s close to the pavilion. Make sure it’s done by tomorrow.”

“Yes, Madam.”

As the stars shifted and dawn broke, Zhou Minghai woke with a burning pain in his cheek. He had no memory of the previous night’s events.

After questioning a servant, he learned he had gone on a drunken rampage, even attempting to strike Ningning. If Ji Moyang hadn’t intervened, he might have struck Song Xuwan as well.

The servant hadn’t been present during the meal and was merely relaying hearsay. Fortunately, Zhou Minghai’s complete lack of memory made him inclined to believe the account.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he pondered the situation. He rarely drank to excess, and even when he did, he rarely lost control. Yesterday must have been cursed.

Touching his throbbing cheek, he suddenly realized, “This wine must have been tainted. It drove me mad, and now my face is swollen and aching.”

After hearing Zhou Minghai’s explanation, Song Xuwan didn’t think he was making excuses. This wine was commonly drunk from the storeroom, and Zhou Minghai had never gone on a drunken rampage before. It was highly likely someone had tampered with it.

Suddenly, she understood the mystery of the wine. Ji Moyang often drugged Madam Min, and it seemed he had deliberately done this to vent her anger.

She found it somewhat amusing. “Whatever Master says must be true. Perhaps it had been stored in the storeroom for too long and had even soaked up a dead rat. After all, Ningning cried all night, thinking her beloved father had been possessed by some evil spirit, subjecting her to such humiliation.”

“I’ll go comfort her,” Zhou Minghai said, hurrying away as if afraid Song Xuwan would detain him.

How could a young girl who had suffered such a great injustice be consoled with a few words?

That evening, seeing Zhou Minghai’s dejected demeanor, Song Xuwan applied her fragrant balm and remarked, “Ningning had her eye on a pearl hairpin last time. But knowing how frugal Master is, I didn’t buy it.”

“Buy it! I’ll get it for Ningning tomorrow as my apology,” Zhou Minghai declared with newfound generosity.