8 Forced Relocation

Meng Xingzhou glanced at her gratefully, feeling that his younger sister was indeed virtuous and considerate.

Under such a contrast, his resentment toward that other woman grew stronger in his heart.

“Mother, Qingyue is not our flesh and blood; how can we truly know her intentions? Moreover, ever since Chang Le returned home, she has never ceased to compete with her, full of jealousy and malice. Such a sinister person—please do not be deceived by her!”

Seeing his son filled with righteous indignation, Madam Meng sighed softly.

She did not believe Qingyue harbored any ill intentions; after all, she had raised the girl and knew her nature well.

But Xingzhou had a point.

Qingyue was not a blood relative of the family; some caution was necessary.

With this in mind, her gaze toward Meng Changle grew warmer and more affectionate—this was truly the legitimate daughter of their Marquis household!

“Changle, have you become accustomed to listening to the teachings in the palace these days?”

Meng Changle had lived in the countryside for many years and was only found and brought back three years ago. She was rough in manners and shallow in knowledge.

The entire Huainan Marquis family felt they had wasted their daughter’s time and were filled with guilt. But when the time came for her to marry, the suitor’s family was unwilling.

Therefore, the Lady of the Duke of Zhen’guo tactfully proposed that, since she was on good terms with a favored consort in the palace, Meng Changle could enter the palace daily before her marriage to learn etiquette from the consort.

“Hmm... it’s quite good...” Meng Changle said, though her tone was low and disheartened.

Madam Meng, perceptive as ever, noticed something amiss. “What’s wrong? Has the consort treated you badly?”

Meng Changle shook her head. “The consort is very kind and treats me well, it’s just...”

Her voice fell into melancholy. “I don’t sleep well at night and often doze off during the day, which displeases the consort...”

Madam Meng was startled. “Why is that?”

Meng Changle hesitated, unwilling to say more. Only after being pressed did she timidly speak, “My room is near the backyard, and at night the birds chirp noisily, disturbing my sleep.”

She lifted her head, summoning courage. “Only Qingyue’s room is quiet. If I could have her room, this problem would surely be solved...”

Madam Meng fell silent upon hearing this, casting a troubled glance at Meng Xingzhou.

He furrowed his brows lightly. “So Qingyue would have to move to the guest quarters...”

Meng Changle looked pitiful. “It’s only for a month or two. The family is focusing on my marriage now—wouldn’t my sister help with just this little matter?”

Seeing Meng Xingzhou remain silent, she sniffled heavily and wept aloud,

“Fine, I know you care about Qingyue, since she is your sister and you don’t want her to suffer. But brother, you really treat Qingyue too well...”

There was no denying Meng Changle was adept at striking Meng Xingzhou’s weak spot.

At her words, his expression changed immediately. “I’m not worried about her. How have I treated her well?”

He exhaled deeply, as if to mask some unease, then unexpectedly agreed,

“It’s just a room. If she gives it up, she gives it up. I’ll go talk to her now.”

Late at night.

Meng Xingzhou arrived at Meng Qingyue’s room, knocked, and entered.

He said simply, “Move.”

Cui’er was tucking the covers around the already sleeping young lady, remarking that the cold night air was seeping in and that she should be covered with extra quilts.

The next moment, Meng Xingzhou burst in with several burly servants.

“What’s going on?” Cui’er panicked, and Meng Qingyue sat up, frowning.

Meng Xingzhou replied coolly, “Changle wants to borrow your room. You have to move out tonight.”

Meng Qingyue looked at him in utter disbelief.

“Meng Xingzhou, you break into my room in the dead of night just to make me give my place to Meng Changle?”

He furrowed his brows as well. Though not siblings by blood, their shared expression of displeasure was strikingly alike.

“Watch your tone, Qingyue. You’re only an adopted daughter. What in this Marquis household belongs to you?”

Meng Qingyue pressed her lips tightly but found she could not retort.

She wore only her nightclothes, and the draft chilled her to the bone. She shivered quietly, feeling a strange wave of humiliation.

Truly, she was bringing disgrace upon herself.

“Could I move out tomorrow instead? It’s rather late now...”

“No.”

Meng Xingzhou’s tone remained cold. “Changle’s matters cannot be delayed. Don’t stall intentionally.”

He then ordered the servants to begin moving her belongings.

Meng Qingyue clutched her embroidered quilt, a sudden chill rising in her heart. She sighed softly and slowly relaxed her grip, saying no more.

Until she saw one of the servants roughly snatch a porcelain doll from the cabinet, then suddenly panicked.

“Stop!” she cried out.

Meng Xingzhou grew impatient, signaling the servants to ignore her.

Qingyue grew even more desperate and threw off her quilt to rise,

But the servant was quick; Qingyue, anxious, struggled with him.

With a sharp “crack,”

The porcelain doll fell to the floor, shattering into fragments.

Qingyue lost her footing and fell heavily, her palm pressing onto the broken shards, blood slowly oozing out.

Yet she felt no pain at all.

From the moment the doll fell, her heart had died.