Chapter Thirty-Six: Underestimating the Enemy-A Filha Herdeira Reencarna e Abusa os Escrotes, A Mansão do Marquês Regreta Até Não Poder Mais(O ministro gosta de dormir.)

Observing the Marchioness’s uncharacteristic harshness toward Zhao Zhizhi, Meng Zhenyue could not help but recall the report she received earlier today: Zhao Xianzhi had paid a visit to the Marchioness’s quarters.

While it was normal for him to visit his mother, the Marchioness’s current erratic behavior made his movements worth scrutinizing. Meng Zhenyue glanced at Zhao Zhizhi, who was biting her lip, stubbornly holding back tears, and surmised that the girl must be feeling a deep sense of imbalance. Though Zhizhi might not have wished to compete, the blatant favoritism was bound to cause resentment.

*So, this is Zhao Xianzhi’s plan,* Meng Zhenyue thought with a cold inward sneer. *He wants to use the Marchioness’s bias to sow discord between the two sisters.*

Unfastening the sachet from her waist, Meng Zhenyue spoke calmly, "Mother, please calm your anger. Look, Sister’s embroidery is actually more refined than the sachet she gave me recently; she has truly improved."

Beside her, Zhao Zhizhi turned in surprise, her tears finally spilling over like a broken dam. Although Meng Zhenyue saw this from the corner of her eye, she did not turn to comfort her. Instead, she spoke again before the increasingly displeased Marchioness could interject. "Mother is being so strict—surely it is our eldest brother, so full of responsibility, who requested such rigor?"

Zhao Zhizhi, moved by her elder sister’s defense, paid no mind to the implication. The Marchioness, reminded of the morning’s events, cast a stern look at Meng Zhenyue, ready to stand by her son. "It was indeed your eldest brother. He cares for the Marquis’s estate and never forgets to look after you both; he examined your needlework carefully today. Xianzhi is right—good work should be praised, but shortcomings must be criticized for you to truly improve."

Zhao Zhizhi thought blankly, *So it was Eldest Brother’s idea. No wonder Mother is being so harsh.* A vague sense of unease flickered in her mind, but before she could dwell on it, Meng Zhenyue’s voice rang out.

"Eldest Brother is indeed thoughtful," Meng Zhenyue said with a self-deprecating smile toward the Marchioness. "I had not considered that." She then turned to Zhao Zhizhi, brow slightly furrowed in concern. "Sister, although this may cause a rift between us, surely Eldest Brother believes our bond is stronger than gold, which is why he spoke as he did."

Looking at Meng Zhenyue’s troubled expression, clarity dawned on Zhao Zhizhi. That was exactly what had felt wrong. Just moments ago, when their mother had scolded her and told her to learn from her elder sister, she had felt a flicker of resentment toward her sister. But how could Eldest Brother intentionally cause friction between them? It was impossible. She had grown up with him and knew his character best.

Despite her inner thoughts, Zhao Zhizhi replied, "Elder Sister is right. The bond between us is stronger than gold and will not be undermined by Eldest Brother’s words. Oh—no, that’s not what I meant..."

Meng Zhenyue looked at her with genuine surprise. Realizing her slip of the tongue, Zhao Zhizhi hurriedly corrected herself. "Eldest Brother must have had his own reasons for saying that. Elder Sister and I will certainly not be affected by this matter." She looked up at the Marchioness with forced determination, though her voice wavered slightly. "Mother, I am fine. Please, please continue your instruction."

The Marchioness, oblivious to the undercurrents, felt gratified. "Good. To face one’s mistakes is a fine start. Zhizhi has grown much; truly, your brother..."

Before the Marchioness could finish, she was interrupted by the perceptive Nanny Yan. The nanny first cast a skeptical look at the Marchioness, then, upon hearing the rest of her sentence, gave her a look of subtle pity, as if observing a fool.

"My Lady, I feel a great deal of pressure after hearing that," Nanny Yan said, rising to offer a formal bow.

The room went silent as everyone looked at the nanny in surprise. Nanny Yan wore a look of humble shame. "Your son is a man of great learning, whereas my methods are clumsy. I feel I am not up to the task and humbly request to take my leave."

"What?" The Marchioness was initially offended, but the nanny’s words struck terror into her heart. Nanny Yan had been brought into the house at great expense by the Marquis himself! She hurriedly offered a conciliatory smile. "Nanny, what are you saying? Everyone knows you were a prized student of the Imperial Palace’s head embroiderer."

The Marchioness suddenly realized the nanny was rebuking her. She had nearly forgotten—this woman had taught princesses in the palace and many noble ladies thereafter. During those times, even imperial concubines and high-ranking matriarchs had never dared to interfere with her methods. She had been too impatient!

The Marchioness rose and performed a half-bow. "That was merely my son’s concern for his sisters; he will not interfere with your teaching. Please, Nanny, do not take offense."

Seeing the Marchioness lower her posture, Nanny Yan did not push further, though she maintained her stance. "You flatter me, My Lady. It is not about interference, but that everyone has their own methods, and students find it difficult to adapt to too many."

The Marchioness, a woman who had navigated the complexities of high society for years, understood the subtext perfectly. She smiled again. "Please, Nanny, you must stay. There are so many matters in this household requiring my attention; if you do not teach my daughters, they will surely become a laughingstock."

Having achieved her goal, Nanny Yan relented after a few more exchanges. She decided the Marchioness was at least sensible enough, and the mansion was not entirely hopeless; staying for another month or so would be tolerable.

After the Marchioness instructed Meng Zhenyue and Zhao Zhizhi to bow to Nanny Yan in gratitude, she excused herself from the study. Watching the Marchioness depart, Meng Zhenyue thought to herself that Nanny Yan was truly formidable—a few words had been enough to drive the woman away, ensuring the study would be much quieter from now on.

As for Zhizhi, she wanted to trust Zhao Xianzhi, yet those words had slipped out of her mouth instinctively. If Zhao Xianzhi kept up these petty schemes, the lifelong bond of trust Zhizhi held for him would surely erode. Meng Zhenyue felt a surge of satisfaction, wondering how Zhao Xianzhi would react when he heard the result of his little ploy.

As it turned out, Zhao Xianzhi learned of the incident from his informants within the hour. He did not fly into a rage; instead, there was a sharp *snap* as the brush in his hand broke in two. After a long silence, he gritted his teeth. "Zhizhi actually said those things instinctively!"

He had been too arrogant, too quick to underestimate his opponent. His scheme had backfired, pushing Zhizhi further away instead. The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence as he suppressed his fury. His closest attendants did not dare to breathe, bracing themselves for the storm to come.