CHAPTER THREE — THEN I WILL DO AS YOU SAY
It took nearly an hour for Su Zijin to bathe and dress. Behind the screen, steam curled lazily through the air, but outside it, Lyu Qiao was already shifting from foot to foot, her patience thinning like worn silk. She opened her mouth to urge them along—
—but Xia He slipped out first, clutching a small sandalwood box in both hands.
"Apologies for keeping Sister Lyu Qiao waiting," she said with a polite bow. "Miss is injured, so bathing and dressing took longer than usual. This is just a small token of respect."
She opened the box.
Inside lay a jade bangle, pale and luminous.
Lyu Qiao's irritation evaporated instantly. Her eyes gleamed as she lifted the bracelet, turning it in the light.
"Old Madam has taken a liking to elder sister," Xia He added softly. "Please speak kindly for our Miss."
Lyu Qiao sniffed, but her tone softened. "If the young miss is innocent, I will naturally put in a good word."
She didn't promise anything, but the bangle had already done its work. Xia He simply bowed again, took the empty box, and slipped back behind the screen to whisper to Su Zijin.
A moment later, Su Zijin emerged—calm, composed, and walking with deliberate steadiness. She followed Lyu Qiao out of the Bamboo Garden and towards Purple Stone Cottage, where the Old Madam resided.
Lyu Qiao's attitude had improved, but Su Zijin's pace was slow, each step measured. She didn't speak. She didn't rush. The journey, which should have taken a few minutes, stretched into the length of a tea's steeping.
Inside the main hall, Old Madam Lin sat rigidly on her high-backed chair, her expression carved from stone. Impatience radiated from her in cold waves. Beside her stood Madame Xu—Su Zijin's mother—hands clenched tightly, worry etched into every line of her face.
When Su Zijin stepped through the doorway, Madame Xu's eyes filled with guilt. She had tried. She had fought. But today, she was powerless.
"Zijin," Old Madam Lin snapped the moment she entered, "I summoned you long ago. Yet you arrive at noon. Has the Bamboo Garden moved farther from Purple Stone Cottage overnight?"
Her tone was sharp enough to draw blood.
Su Zijin didn't flinch. She walked to the centre of the hall, bowed with perfect grace, and replied evenly, "I was injured yesterday, Grandmother. My clothes were stained with blood. I feared offending your eyes, so I bathed before coming. I beg your forgiveness."
Her words were flawless—polite, reasonable, irrefutable.
Old Madam Lin's lips tightened. She took a sip of tea, then set the cup down with a soft click.
"Zijin, the evidence of your theft is conclusive. Although you are injured, you have rested for a day. It is time to send you to the manor with a letter of punishment."
"Mother!" Madame Xu's voice cracked. She grabbed the Old Madam's sleeve, panic flooding her features. "How can we send her away? The manor is far, and the summer heat is unbearable. Zijin's body cannot endure it!"
She knew the truth: they had planned this. They wanted Su Zijin gone. But she hadn't expected them to use a letter of punishment—a stain that would follow her daughter forever.
Old Madam Lin's eyes flashed. "A daughter of the Guan family, caught stealing—she should be grateful we are not removing her from the family registry entirely. Are you questioning my judgement?"
She shook off Madame Xu's hand with disdain.
Normally, Madame Xu would have fallen silent. But this was her daughter's future. Her life. Her dignity.
Her legs trembled, then buckled.
She fell to her knees.
"Mother, Zijin is young and ignorant. Please forgive her this once. Pingzhi Manor cannot take her."
Her forehead touched the cold stone floor. The chill seeped into her bones, but it couldn't extinguish the humiliation burning through her.
Watching her mother kneel, Su Zijin's nails dug into her palms. Pain grounded her, kept her from exploding. She had lived this scene once already. She had watched her mother's spirit be worn down, piece by piece, until nothing remained.
Old Madam Lin wanted this. She wanted to see Madame Xu kneel. She wanted to remind everyone who held power in this household.
Not this time.
"Mother," Su Zijin said quietly, "please rise. This matter concerns me alone. There is no need for you to plead."
Her voice was calm—too calm. Like still water hiding a deadly current.
Old Madam Lin's eyes narrowed. "You admitted your guilt yesterday. Will you deny it now?"
Su Zijin met her gaze without blinking. A faint, icy smile touched her lips.
"If a person's innocence can be erased simply because they confessed under duress, then this world would drown in injustice."
The hall fell silent.
Old Madam Lin hadn't expected such sharpness. She recovered quickly, leaning back with a cold snort.
"Then do you have evidence to prove your innocence?"
"No," Su Zijin said.
Madame Xu's face crumpled. Old Madam Lin smirked, triumphant.
But Su Zijin continued, "However, I can find the culprit. If Grandmother summons everyone who was present yesterday, the truth will reveal itself."
"Nonsense!" Old Madam Lin slammed her armrest. "If you have evidence, present it. Do not drag others into your lies!"
She was furious. Su Zijin's request threatened to expose more than just a stolen bracelet—it threatened the Old Madam's carefully arranged alliances.
But Su Zijin didn't waver.
"Grandmother," she said, voice ringing clear and steady, "I can find the culprit. If I fail, you may remove my name from the family registry. I will not object."
"Zijin!" Madame Xu gasped.
"Ridiculous!" Old Madam Lin barked.
But before either could speak further, a voice drifted from the doorway—old, steady, and carrying the weight of authority.
"Then we will do as you say."