Chapter 16 A Chan Is All Too Familiar With Such Scenes…

Chapter 16: This kind of scene was all too familiar to A Chan...

It was already early March when A Chan saw Sun Ma again.

Willow buds sprouted, apricot blossoms covered the branches, and even the breeze carried a whisper of spring.

But Sun Ma looked much older—her cheeks were sunken from weight loss, and more than half her hair had turned white.

"It's been so long. Are you well, miss?" Today, Sun Ma hadn’t arrived in a Zhao family carriage but had come on foot.

"All is well. Please come in and rest, Sun Ma," A Chan invited her inside.

Sun Ma shook her head, remaining outside. "I won’t stay. I came today to tell you that Madam’s body has been brought back to the estate. The mourning hall will be prepared tomorrow, and the burial will take place the day after."

A Chan understood. Over ten days had passed, so the case must have been concluded—though she wondered what the final outcome had been.

"Understood. I’ll be there," A Chan replied.

The next day, A Chan rose early.

She changed into a plain white dress and selected a white velvet flower hairpin from her wooden box. Her slender fingers brushed over the still-gleaming gold ornaments inside before she sighed softly.

By mid-morning, A Chan arrived at the Zhao estate. The lanterns at the entrance had all been replaced with white ones, each bearing a large mourning character.

A Zhao household servant greeted A Chan and led her inside.

As soon as she entered the mourning hall, A Chan saw the black coffin placed at the center, its lid closed—containing Xiao Lin Shi.

On the altar table in front were Xiao Lin Shi’s spirit tablet and funeral offerings.

Seeing Zhao Wenyue dressed in mourning clothes in the mourning hall didn’t surprise A Chan much. Just as she had guessed, the Bright Mirror Bureau likely hadn’t found concrete evidence, and Zhao Wenyue had been released.

But what truly surprised A Chan was that, aside from Zhao Wenyue, there was also a young boy who looked no older than eight in the hall, also dressed in mourning clothes.

Not only that, the boy was kneeling in front of Zhao Wenyue, as if standing in for Zhao Wensheng, the eldest son.

Only children observe deep mourning for their parents—since when did Xiao Lin Shi have another son?

A Chan walked calmly into the mourning hall, offered three incense sticks for Xiao Lin Shi, and then received the bows of the mourning children.

Only after accepting their bows did she speak to Zhao Wenyue: "My sympathies, cousin."

Zhao Wenyue looked up at the sound of her voice. When she saw it was A Chan, her eyes burned with hatred: "You! You wicked creature!"

She had been imprisoned in the Bright Mirror Bureau for ten full days—the cell was pitch-black, freezing, and filled with terror. Day and night, she heard shrieks and moans, making it impossible to sleep.

Fortunately, the vendor who had sold her the hairpin had died unexpectedly, preventing the Bright Mirror Bureau from pinning the crime on her. Her father had called in favors and found help before they finally released her.

After her release, her father told her that Sun Ma and her mother’s personal maid had never mentioned the jade hairpin—it was Ji Chan who had informed the Bright Mirror Bureau.

If it weren’t for her, she wouldn’t have suffered so much!

Just as Zhao Wenyue was about to rise, the boy beside her quickly caught her sleeve. He looked up, his clear black-and-white eyes lacking a child’s naivety.

He said to Zhao Wenyue, "This is Mother’s mourning hall. Elder Sister must keep still while mourning, or risk disturbing her spirit."

Zhao Wenyue shook off his hand and snapped, "Who do you think you are? Just because Father agreed to let you take my brother’s place in mourning, don’t think you can be adopted into Mother’s lineage. In your dreams!"

The boy replied calmly, "Elder Sister worries too much. Wenqi has no such thoughts."

Still, his words at least stopped Zhao Wenyue from making any further outbursts.

Seeing A Chan stay quiet, as though frightened, the boy comforted her: "Please forgive Elder Sister, Cousin. She is merely grieving and did not mean to target you."

Addressing her as "cousin" immediately and speaking as if he were the master of the household—A Chan thought to herself that the Zhao family had clearly changed considerably these past days.

"And you are...?" A Chan asked, playing confused.

"My name is Zhao Wenqi, a distant relative of the Zhao family. After my parents died, I was raised by my grandparents. Hearing of Madam’s tragic death, I came to the capital with them," Zhao Wenqi introduced himself clearly, even explaining his background.

"I see. Greetings, Cousin Wenqi," A Chan returned the greeting.

Zhao Wenqi, relieved by her reaction, added, "There are many guests today for the mourning. If we’ve neglected our duties, please forgive us."

"You’re most considerate, cousin."

After speaking, Zhao Wenqi called over a servant waiting outside and instructed them to escort A Chan to the side hall to rest.

Compared to Zhao Wenyue, he seemed far more composed.

A Chan didn’t linger in the mourning hall and followed the servant out.

Normally, mourners weren’t usually kept long, but as a relative, A Chan was asked to stay.

The side hall held only four or five people, all seemingly familiar with one another—likely Zhao family relatives. After all, aside from A Chan, all of Xiao Lin Shi’s kin were now exiled.

Seated at the head of the side hall was an elderly woman with salt-and-pepper hair. Though her clothes were fine, her bearing was somewhat coarse—she must be Zhao Ming’s mother, Xiao Lin Shi’s mother-in-law.

When the old woman saw A Chan enter, she stopped speaking to the relatives beside her and turned to ask, "Which family are you from? I don’t recall seeing you before."

A Chan bowed slightly. "Greetings, Madam. My name is Ji Chan. I am my late aunt’s niece."

"Oh, it’s you." The old woman must have heard something about Ji Chan, as her gaze carried a hint of disdain. But she said nothing more, merely glancing away after the question.

The matriarch’s preferences were obvious. Since she ignored A Chan, the other Zhao relatives followed suit.

A Chan sat alone in a corner, nibbled two pastries, and listened quietly to the conversations around her, perfectly comfortable.

After about ninety minutes, Zhao Ming, the long-absent household head, finally appeared with Zhao Wenqi and Zhao Wenyue.

Zhao Ming entered the side hall, first bowing to his mother at the head seat, then greeting the other relatives.

Behind him, Zhao Wenyue’s attitude was perfunctory—even when bowing to her grandmother, her expression remained cold. The old woman didn’t seem pleased with her granddaughter either.

In contrast, her face brightened at the sight of Zhao Wenqi, and she waved him over eagerly: "Wenqi, come to Grandma."

Zhao Wenqi approached and called out, "Grandmother."

"Yes, my dear grandson." She rubbed his knees sympathetically. "You’ve been kneeling so long—does it hurt?"

"Don’t worry, Grandmother. It doesn’t hurt," Zhao Wenqi reassured her.

"How could it not? Poor child, having to kneel so long—and she wasn’t even your birth mother."

"It’s what Wenqi should do."

Most children his age might have complained after such prompting, but Zhao Wenqi’s maturity surprised the Zhao relatives in the hall.

Someone asked curiously, "Aunt, whose child is this?"

Grandma Zhao quickly pulled Zhao Wenqi forward and introduced him to those present: "This is my grandson Wenqi. He's been clever and filial since childhood, always staying by our side."

The relatives looked at each other confused. They all knew Zhao Ming and Xiao Lin Shi had only one son and one daughter, both already grown up. How could Grandma Zhao suddenly have another grandson?

Before the old lady realized her mistake, Zhao Wenqi spoke up generously: "Nice to meet you all, elders. Wenqi was adopted by my grandparents."

He then gently tugged at Grandma Zhao's sleeve.

Only then did she catch herself and hastily explain: "Yes, this poor child lost both parents shortly after birth. Considering we share the same lineage and his sad situation, we took him in."

"I see! No wonder the boy is so intelligent—he must have absorbed your family's academic influence," one relative immediately remarked.

Grandma Zhao laughed heartily: "Exactly! My son's scholarly talents have all been absorbed by this child."

As she spoke, she affectionately patted Zhao Wenqi's head.

Zhao Wenqi simply stood smiling, calmly enduring the relatives' scrutiny—amazingly composed for his age.

Another relative asked: "Will Sister-in-law be staying in the capital this time?"

Grandma Zhao nodded: "We're staying. My grandson's old enough for proper schooling now. He'll study under his father's guidance. With his intelligence, he'll surely pass the imperial exams in a few years."

"Has Wenqi been formally adopted by your son then?" the relative pressed.

"Indeed. My pigheaded son stayed loyal to that infertile daughter-in-mine. Now with the family crisis and no heir to continue the lineage, we had to adopt this child," Grandma Zhao explained.

At this, the other relatives nodded understandingly. They all knew the rumors about the Zhao family's misfortunes—rumors that Xiao Lin Shi's death involved her eldest son, who was now imprisoned. The fact that the eldest son didn't show up today seemed to confirm these rumors.

With the eldest son gone, the family needed an heir—and here was a ready-made solution.

Though some privately wondered why Zhao Ming, still young, didn't remarry to have another child instead. But none would voice such thoughts here.

A Chan quietly observed Zhao Wenqi beside Grandma Zhao. The child appeared composed, but couldn't hide the pride in his eyes.

Why the rush to adopt this particular child? Because the eldest son failed? Because the family needed an heir?

A Chan's gaze shifted from Zhao Wenqi to Zhao Ming, whose proud expression while looking at the boy resembled a man admiring his greatest creation.

Perhaps because Zhao Wenqi—supposedly pitied and adopted by Grandma Zhao and her husband—was actually Zhao Ming's biological son.

This was an act A Chan knew all too well.