"You—!"
Qian Yi, like a furious lioness, found her target. She lunged at Jian Dan, her manicured red nails clawing through the air like a vengeful ghost's talons.
"Was it you? It had to be you! You sabotaged the car, didn't you? You vile little—"
A stream of curses spilled from her lips as she swiped at Jian Dan's face. Zhou Bing intercepted with a firm but controlled shove, sending Qian Yi stumbling back onto the sofa. Strands of hair fell loose around her face, her expression twisted with hatred.
"Auntie, I'm just a young girl. I don't have that kind of power," Jian Dan said mildly.
Qian Yi's glare was venomous. "Then why are you here? To gloat? Don't get too comfortable—Zihan is recovering. You'll get nothing!"
Jian Dan slowly walked to Tzuyu's bed, pulled over a reclining chair, sat in front of the bed, looked at Zhao Ziyu, and smoothed her messy hair. Zhao Ziyu's hair had become a little dry and yellow due to lack of maintenance, which also indicated that her physical fitness was very poor. The girl looked frail, her complexion sallow, but she met Jian Dan's gaze with wary defiance.
"What do you want?" Ziyu rasped.
"Just visiting. And maybe... a little chat."
Qian Yi's eyes narrowed. She smoothed her expression, reassuming the demeanor of the dignified matriarch. "What nonsense are you spouting now?"
Jian Dan picked up an apple from the bedside tray and began peeling it with a small knife, her voice light, almost conversational.
"The moment Steward Zhao called me 'Second Young Miss,' I knew my ties to the Zhao family were severed. And it was your own family who cut them."
She glanced at Ziyu. "You called me 'sister,' but you're actually older than me by months. And Zihan? Two years older. You all knew this, didn't you?"
Qian Yi's face tightened, but Ziyu—her voice hoarse—hissed: "My mother was with Father first! Your mother was the interloper, using her family's influence to tear them apart!"
Jian Dan chuckled. "Oh? Is that what you told your children, Qian Yi?"
The woman's expression flickered with unease.
"Then let me ask you this," Jian Dan continued, her knife steady. "Did you know Zihan and Ziyu share a mother... but not a father?"
"Lies!" Qian Yi shot up again, only to be shoved back by Zhou Bing.
Ziyu's breath hitched. She wasn't stupid—she saw the truth in her mother's panic.
"So this was why Father hadn't visited."
"Zhao Mufeng needed backing to wrest control from his elder brother," Jian Dan mused, still peeling. "You, Qian Yi, came from a minor family—useless to his ambitions. So when my mother's clan offered an alliance, he took it without hesitation. Not that my mother loved him. It was just a transaction."
She glanced up. "What did he tell you? That he loved you, but duty forced him to marry her? That he'd make you his true wife someday?"
Qian Yi's lips pressed into a thin line.
"To his credit, he kept that promise... eventually. Though it took so long that Zihan was already born. You couldn't stand waiting in the shadows, could you? You wanted the title of Madam Zhao—legally, openly. So you used your son to reel Zhao Mufeng in, then got pregnant again to force my mother out."
Qian Yi lifted her chin. "So what? Your mother was too sickly to bear a son. I gave him ten years, two children—everything! Why shouldn't I take what's mine?"
"Oh, you deserved it," Jian Dan agreed amiably. "But women's wars are fought without blades. You made Zhao Mufeng scheme against my mother... yet in the end, he gained nothing."
She set down the peeled apple. "He knew about your affair. About Zihan. My mother knew too—she just didn't care."
Qian Yi sneered. "And yet, I'm still Madam Zhao."
"For now." Jian Dan's smile turned razor-sharp. "You could've been the winner, Qian Yi. But you got greedy. You wanted it all—so you had another child. Ziyu."
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Too bad she's not Zhao Mufeng's daughter. She's your eldest brother-in-law's, isn't she? Zhao Mulei's."