Chapter 58 Threat “Who dares mock our Shen family?”

Chapter 58: The Threat

“Who dares mock the Shen family?”

“You truly *are* my good son! The late emperor’s most beloved descendant—the rightful heir of the Shen family! You act with decisive authority in court, yet allow a woman to make a fool of you!” The Grand Princess slammed her palm onto the table, her face frozen with icy fury as she fixed him with an unprecedentedly sharp glare.

Shen Jichen stood motionless below, his expression unchanging, his bottomless black eyes locked unwaveringly upon her. His voice was heavy, deliberate: “Mother, I have said this before—do not touch her.”

That tone—laced faintly with respect—was glacial. Even though he was her own son, the Grand Princess felt, for a fleeting moment, unnerved by his aura. She sneered coldly, spine rigid: “And if I *do* touch her—what then? I am your mother. What could you possibly do to me?”

Shen Jichen’s gaze darkened almost imperceptibly. He took a single step forward. “You are my mother—so, of course, I cannot act against you. But Uncle Wei may not be so fortunate.”

The Grand Princess’s stern composure cracked—just for an instant.

Wen Song stepped forward promptly and presented a memorial to Shen Jichen. He accepted it, walked to the table, and placed it squarely before the Grand Princess. Sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling window behind the golden chair fell directly upon the document, casting her face in a pallid, frostbitten light.

Shen Jichen held her gaze, unwavering: “Those sons of Uncle Wei—propped up by their status as the Imperial Grandmother’s maternal kin and shielded by your protection—have grown arrogant in their fiefdoms. Their records teem with vulnerabilities. Finding fault with my cousins may well be something even Uncle Wei—and you—cannot shield them from.”

A chill shot up the Grand Princess’s spine, spreading like ice through her limbs. Staring at him, both shocked and incensed, she ground out through clenched teeth: “He is *your* uncle too—the very pillar of the Wei family!”

Back then, the late emperor had no sons; the succession had passed to a collateral branch. Fearing that the new emperor’s ascension would erode her status as the sole princess, the Grand Princess had thrown her support behind her maternal clan—the Wei family. Now, its head held a princely title under a different surname and wielded both political and military authority across his domain—the Grand Princess’s strongest pillar of power, second only to the Duke himself.

If Shen Jichen moved against those Wei scions—even without toppling the Wei family’s foundations—it would still trigger massive upheaval.

The Grand Princess glared at him, furious: “How *dare* you move against the Wei family? Are you not afraid of breaking the Imperial Grandmother’s heart?”

“If the Imperial Grandmother knew how rampant the Wei descendants have become,” Shen Jichen replied calmly, his gentle eyes sharpening into glacial steel, “she would be broken-hearted *all the more*.”

His gaze struck like twin blades, piercing straight into the Grand Princess’s heart. Suddenly, a sharp pain seized her—she staggered, bracing herself against the table. Chun Auntie rushed forward to steady her. The Grand Princess lifted her tear-filled eyes: “My good son… truly my good son. For a woman—you’d even cast aside your own uncle!”

Shen Jichen clenched his fist tightly within his sleeve. His mother’s tears cut into his heart like blades—but his expression remained cold, unyielding: “So long as you do not touch Yue Rongrong, the Wei family will remain exactly as it is.”

Tears still glistening, the Grand Princess shot him a venomous glare. Her eyes dropped to the memorial—handwritten testimonies from several key court ministers and newly promoted senior officials over recent years—and a sudden chill washed over her, mingled with an unspoken, reluctant pride. She sneered: “Three years managing court affairs, Piao Yao—these people have quietly become *yours*. You’ve mastered your craft!” In fury, she swept the memorial off the table.

Her face stiffened abruptly. Her fingertips trembled slightly. “Back then, you labored tirelessly, earned the highest merit, and devoted yourself diligently to state affairs for three full years. At first, I didn’t understand—why, as heir to the Shen family, did you need to strain yourself so? Now I see clearly—it was all for *this day*, wasn’t it?”

She pushed herself upright from the table: “To protect a woman who once betrayed you—deceived you—and eloped with another man! What a devoted lover!”

Shen Jichen frowned deeply. “Mother, please forgive me.” His mother—the Grand Princess—was the late emperor’s only daughter, once wielding immense influence. He could only build his own power base—not seize authority from the elders of the Shen family or from her.

Now utterly overpowered by her own son, the Grand Princess felt both gratified and enraged. She snapped: “What is *so exceptional* about this Yue Rongrong? In lineage, appearance, talent, or virtue—how does she surpass Meng Jiayan? She was even born of humble origins! If you install her as the next matriarch of the Shen family, won’t the entire realm mock us?”

“Who dares mock the Shen family?” Shen Jichen’s calm voice cut through the Grand Princess’s agitation like a blade. His eyes dipped downward—then lifted again, a faint, arrogant curve playing at the corner of his mouth. That arrogance carried undeniable, crushing weight.

The Grand Princess froze. In that moment, she realized—Piao Yao was no longer the dutiful young son who once carefully navigated her anger to placate her.

Silence swallowed the hall.

Then—a booming voice announced: “The Duke has arrived!”

Both Shen Jichen and the Grand Princess started, turning toward the entrance. A dignified, imposing middle-aged man strode in—solemn, elegant, and radiating unmistakable authority—flanked by two attendants.

Shen Jichen stepped back and bowed low: “Father.”

The Duke glanced at him—then walked past without pause. The Grand Princess, already weeping, stumbled forward. The Duke swiftly caught her in his arms. His stern gaze instantly softened. Clinging to him as if finding her anchor, the Grand Princess let two silent tears fall: “You’re back…”

“Yes—I’m back.” Gently patting her back, he turned to Chun Auntie: “Fetch the imperial physician.”

The Grand Princess cast a tearful, accusing glance at Shen Jichen: “Look at your *good* son…”

The Duke looked back at his son—his gentle eyes hardening once more into cold severity: “Go brew a pot of calming tea.”

Shen Jichen lowered his eyes—helpless resignation settling deep in his heart.

The Duke had devoted every ounce of tenderness he possessed in this life to his wife since childhood—only occasionally sparing a sliver for his son. When Shen Jichen entered the front hall, the Duke was already seated there, waiting. Seeing him, he tapped the low table—signaling him to sit.

He studied Shen Jichen’s resolute face and spoke gravely: “You protect the one you love; I cherish my wife. Your mother is headstrong—but she is the Zhou Dynasty’s treasured pearl. You have now come fully into your own, and I am deeply pleased. Yet you must not use that strength to threaten your mother. Remain at the Duke’s mansion these next few days—spend time with her. As for which young lady you wish to marry—that choice is yours alone.”

Shen Jichen was briefly stunned—he had expected his father to side with his mother.

The Duke simply gazed at him—deeply, appreciatively, pride restrained but unmistakable: “You are the heir of the Shen family. As you said—no matter the status of the lady you marry—who would *dare* mock the Shen family?”

He cared nothing for his daughter-in-law’s pedigree—that was the innate arrogance and confidence of the Shen family’s patriarch. He even wished to proclaim to all that the Shen family disdained using marital alliances to consolidate political power—because the Shen family *needed no such thing*.

When the Grand Princess saw her husband enter, she turned away in angry silence. The Duke smiled faintly, sat beside the bed, and took her hand. She jerked it away—then struck him. “You didn’t help me! I despise that girl! How is she worthy of our son?”

She had long known her husband’s pride. He had never forced Piao Yao to marry into nobility—so she’d hoped to resolve the Yue Rongrong matter before his return to the capital. But things had gone awry.

The Duke gazed at her, voice soft: “If I had not been the eldest son of the Shen family—if the Shen family had fallen into decline—would you still have married me?”

She struck him again, furious: “Nonsense! Of course I would! What do you take me for?”

“What if your father had forbidden it?”

“Then I would have fought to the death…” The Grand Princess trailed off—stunned.

The Duke held her gaze: “Then how can you bear to force your son to marry a girl he does not love? In this, he may well take after *you*.”

She scoffed lightly: “He’s nothing like me—he’s far more capable! At most, I’d have wept and made a scene before Father.”

“For a family like ours, surviving a century is no small feat. That he possesses the strength to marry the woman he loves proves his resolve. No matter her station—once she enters the Shen family, she will be honored.”

Arrogant words—yet spoken with the Duke’s unshakable calm, they resonated with quiet, undeniable truth.

The Grand Princess pursed her lips, glancing at him twice: “Do you think I don’t know what you’re thinking? So conceited!” He wanted the world to know—the Shen family stood apart from other noble houses. Even if its heir married no highborn lady, the Shen family’s position would remain utterly unshaken.

The Duke chuckled: “I’ve heard the girl is quite lovely—and highly esteemed by Master Jimo—with notable talent—not without merit. As for her other standing—it is irrelevant. If you dislike her, they’ll eventually establish their own residence anyway. She won’t trouble you.”

The Grand Princess said nothing more—only sighed, frustrated.

The Duke regarded her calmly, his gentle voice edged with quiet sharpness: “As for your elder brother—you must still warn him.”

A pang of guilt flickered across the Grand Princess’s face. “I know.”

＊＊

Since that day she’d encountered Commander Zhang, Yue Rongrong had not seen Shen Jichen again. She’d gone to the Marquis’s residence—only to be told he’d lately been staying at the Duke’s mansion. Naturally, she wouldn’t go there—and Shen Jichen hadn’t visited her either.

Why would he? He was still angry with her—or perhaps he’d moved to the Duke’s mansion precisely to avoid her…

“Rong Rong!”

Xue Yubai’s urgent voice pierced her reverie. Yue Rongrong blinked—startled—her eyes widening. Hastily pulling the stained brush tip away, she stared in dismay at the ruined “Hundred Flowers Blooming” painting: “I’m sorry—I’ve ruined it.”

Xue Yubai had no heart to scold her—he quickly snatched the brush from her hand: “If Teacher sees this later, he’ll scold you for lack of focus.”

Sure enough, when Master Jimo entered the garden and saw the ruined painting, his beard bristled with fury. Spotting the brush in Xue Yubai’s hand, he berated him severely. Yue Rongrong hurried to confess—but Xue Yubai stopped her, stepping forward to accept full blame himself, bowing repeatedly and pleading for mercy.

Master Jimo studied their expressions, piecing together part of the truth—and snorted: “Both of you—out! Out! Don’t linger here and distract me!”

Xue Yubai hurriedly pulled Yue Rongrong away from the scene. Yue Rongrong felt terribly guilty. Looking at Xue Yubai, who had been accompanying her these past few days, her eyes were full of guilt. Xue Yubai gave an easygoing grin: "I've been scolded by the teacher since I was a child, so I'm used to it. But you might—what if you start crying?"

"I'm not that fragile!" Yue Rongrong retorted.

"Really not?"

"No!" Yue Rongrong nodded emphatically.

Xue Yubai crossed his arms and sighed: "Since you're not, then quit looking so glum. Today is the Dragon Mother Festival. There's a Dragon Mother parade on West Street. Want me to take you to check it out? We can also stop by the Dragon King Temple to offer incense?"

The two arrived at West Street. The entire long street was lined with crowds on both sides. A girl dressed as the Dragon Mother sat gracefully on a palanquin, radiating a divine presence. Flanking her were men dressed as officials of the Dragon Palace, followed by a procession of shrimp soldiers and crab generals—both amusing and lifelike—marching grandly toward the Dragon King Temple.

Yue Rongrong, pulled along by Xue Yubai, followed the crowd with curiosity and excitement. They were pushed through the gates of the Dragon King Temple by the throng. The courtyard was filled with devout believers holding three sticks of incense, looking up with excitement and reverence at the enormous object covered in red silk on the ritual ground—rumored to be the golden statue of the true dragon.

Xue Yubai somehow grabbed three sticks of incense and pressed them into Yue Rongrong's hand: "When in Rome, do as the Romans do."

Yue Rongrong smiled and accepted them, also standing on tiptoe to look. Xue Yubai, worried she might lose her balance, held her arm to steady her. Yue Rongrong didn't notice, as she was completely captivated by the conversations around her.

"Have you heard? Today's Dragon Mother Festival was organized by Miss Meng."

"I've heard Miss Meng is exceptionally clever—no wonder it's so novel and interesting."

"Not just that—I heard the golden dragon statue was a joint masterpiece by Miss Meng and Marquis Shen."

"Marquis Shen? From the Shen family of Wangjingmen?"

"Aren't they a perfect match made in heaven?"

"Ah! Look! Miss Meng and Marquis Shen are here!"

Yue Rongrong's eardrums seemed sealed shut. All the noise was blocked outside her ears, leaving only a buzzing silence. She saw Shen Jichen walking expressionlessly beside Meng Jiayan—tall and poised like a pine, solemn and dignified. Meng Jiayan was gentle and elegant—truly a perfect pair.

So, had he been with Meng Jiayan all these days he was gone? Yue Rongrong's nose stung with tears.

Suddenly, someone shouted. Everyone stared wide-eyed in shock as a bamboo structure at the edge of the stage toppled over, heading straight for Meng Jiayan. But it didn't hit her—Shen Jichen blocked it with his arm, and Wen Song kicked it away.

In the aftermath of the accident, everyone was still shaken. Shen Jichen looked down at Meng Jiayan, as if checking if she was injured. Meng Jiayan nervously gripped Shen Jichen's arm. A shocking cut frightened her, turning her face pale, and also made Yue Rongrong's heart ache.

She almost rushed forward immediately but heard an excited woman nearby say: "Did you see? The Marquis was worried just now! How he cares for Miss Meng!"

Yue Rongrong suddenly felt a wave of emotion and shouted at the woman: "Which of your eyes saw him worried? That he cares for her?"

The woman, inexplicably snapped at, glared disdainfully with hands on her hips: "Both eyes saw it! The Marquis does care for Miss Meng! If he doesn't care for her, would he care for you? Ha! What a daydream! Look at yourself—how could you compare to Miss Meng? Dreaming that the Marquis fancies you? So young and already mad! Are you even worthy of Marquis Shen?"

As if stabbed by a sharp blade, Yue Rongrong clamped her mouth shut. Her face turned from pale to red, then back to pale. Her shoulders trembled, and the three sticks of incense in her hand snapped, falling to the ground. She turned, pushed through the crowd, and rushed out of the Dragon King Temple.

Just then, someone shouted, "The Grand Princess has arrived!" Everyone knelt down, but Xue Yubai turned and rushed after her.