Chapter 16: The Legitimate Son Is Incompetent, While the Son of a Concubine Is Brilliant
Upon hearing that her younger brother had been captured by Lu Lan, Qi Xuefu flew into a rage, throwing pots and pans around her room. Her once delicate and refined face twisted into a fierce and domineering expression.
“That good-for-nothing, does he have no respect for me, his aunt? How dare he seize my brother to make an example of him? It’s a slap in my face!”
“And that idiot Qi Cong—how could he be so careless as to let someone as utterly useless as Lu Lan uncover his schemes?”
Her eyes burned with fury.
Years ago, Qi Xuefu had been a mere maidservant to the mistress Yan Shiyue. Even after becoming a concubine, she was always looked down upon within the prestigious Duke of Yu’s household.
Only as her son Lu Zhongwang grew older, and with Yan Shiyue’s son Lu Lan having been spoiled into uselessness, did her stature begin to rise.
In recent years, favored by Lu Yanbei and encouraged by Lu Zhongwang’s achievements, her naturally fierce nature began to surface more boldly.
At the slightest displeasure, she would lash out at servants in the servant's quarters, smashing and throwing things about.
“Bring me a crimson dress at once. I am going to the main courtyard.”
Noticing her own plain attire, she decided she must present a more imposing image.
The maidservants around her glanced nervously, but none dared to speak up. Her personal maid, Lihua, both attentive and brave, quickly whispered a warning:
“Mistress, you cannot wear crimson to the main courtyard. If the lady of the house hears about it, it will cause trouble.”
In noble households, strict customs governed appearance and dress—what makeup to wear, what jewelry was appropriate, what fabrics were allowed—all were regulated.
The color of clothing was no exception.
Only the main mistress could wear crimson, as could the old madam and the young mistress.
Concubines, however, were limited to pale colors such as pink or light red.
“I said I’ll wear crimson. No more nonsense!”
Qi Xuefu was in no mood for argument and shot Lihua a sharp glare.
She intended to assert her authority, to make Lu Lan understand that she too held a position in the Lu household.
Seeing Qi Xuefu’s urgency, Lihua wisely kept silent and hurried to fetch the dress.
Just then, Nurse Jiang approached, her eyes sharp and calculating.
“Mistress, it’s best not to rush off to the main courtyard in anger.”
Nurse Jiang held more weight in Qi Xuefu’s mind than the other servants, and her words carried influence.
After all, it was thanks to a cunning counselor by her side in these years that she had managed to survive the ongoing conflict with Yan Shiyue.
“Why not? Should I not save my own brother?” Qi Xuefu frowned.
“The young master is currently making a move against your uncle. If you rush in recklessly, you’ll be walking into a trap. We should wait and observe. If things go badly, you can still distance yourself from your uncle.”
Qi Xuefu knitted her brows. “He is my own brother. How can I disown him? Lu Lan may be foolish, but Yan Shiyue is not.”
She believed that if they could not evade the conflict, they must face it head-on.
“Then just say you never leave the main gate, that you couldn’t have been involved in your uncle’s dealings.”
A single statement to sever ties—sacrificing the pawn to save the king.
Nurse Jiang was certain Qi Cong would never betray his own sister.
If Qi Xuefu fell, their family would be reduced to nothing but commoners.
“So you mean, as long as I deny everything, neither Lu Lan nor Yan Shiyue can harm me?” Qi Xuefu suddenly saw the light.
“Exactly!”
Though the Qi siblings conspired together to extort wealth, no records showed Qi Xuefu’s involvement in any of the transactions.
As long as Qi Cong held firm, no blame could fall on her.
Twisting her handkerchief between her fingers, Qi Xuefu slowly took a seat.
Her only worry now was whether her brother could withstand Lu Lan’s torment.
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In the main courtyard,
Lu Lan sat on a grand official’s chair brought into the yard. Behind him, two maids, Tong Yan and You Rong, massaged his shoulders and back.
Qi Cong was tied to a wooden post, gagged, stripped bare against the autumn wind that raised goosebumps across his skin.
Xianyu stood before him, holding a python whip.
Nearby, a wooden bucket contained boiling chili oil mixed with a jar of ten-year-aged Daughter’s Red wine—fiery and potent.
One lash would send a searing, teeth-chattering pain.
Around them, more than three hundred servants and slaves of the household gathered. The scene was far from festive; it was suffocating.
All eyes were fixed on the python whip in Xianyu’s hand.
The crowd sighed under their breath, convinced the young master had lost his mind—to even dare bind the concubine’s own brother.
Wasn’t the fifth young master about to take the imperial examination soon?
If the fifth young master truly became the champion scholar, who would be the rightful heir, and who the illegitimate son, would become uncertain.
Though noble families valued bloodlines, they prized the status of their children more.
If the legitimate eldest son was mediocre, but a younger son rose through his own merit, the head of the family might alter the genealogical record to name the latter heir.
Such matters were not uncommon.
The Duke of Yu’s household was precisely in such a predicament: an incapable legitimate son and a brilliant second son.
But the servants had no say in the inner turmoil of their masters; all they could do was watch the household descend into chaos.
“The young master, the servants have all assembled.”