Chapter 20: The Summer Cicada’s Disfigurement

Xia Wentao quivered for a moment—no, this was definitely not Xia Jiujang. How could she possibly possess such cunning and wisdom? Lin Baixue’s face was clouded with embarrassment, while Xia Yue’er’s gaze at Xia Jiujang brimmed with anger and concern; she dared no longer underestimate her as before.

Zhang Fu knelt before Xia Jiujang and pleaded, “Princess, spare me, please spare me! For the sake of my pointing out the Third Miss, grant me a way out.”

Xia Jiujang tossed him a reply, “Naturally, I can spare you…”

A smile began to bloom on Zhang Fu’s face.

Yet before it could fully form, Xia Jiujang continued, “We’ll forego the tongue-cutting and hand-breaking—that is already the greatest mercy I can offer you. However, as you are a servant of the Xia household, your slave registry is held by them. Whatever the Prime Minister decides to do with you afterward is not my concern.”

Since he had accepted Xia Chan’s money to target Xia Jiujang, he dreamed of her sparing him—foolish fantasies.

Xia Wentao glared angrily at Zhang Fu, declaring, “You dragged all of this out. Someone, drag Zhang Fu out, give him eighty strokes, and throw him out of the Xia household.”

“No…don’t…” Eighty strokes? He could barely survive fifty; this would be fatal.

Yet Zhang Fu’s cries elicited no sympathy.

Outside, rumors swirled; inside, the atmosphere was icy cold. Xia Wentao gritted his teeth and slapped Xia Chan’s face. “You wretched girl, you’ve disgraced the Prime Minister’s residence entirely.”

Though Xia Wentao was usually indifferent to Xia Chan, whenever Xia Jiujang was present, his anger was always directed at her, and he had never struck Xia Chan before. Now, in front of so many people, he slapped her, leaving her humiliated and her face burning with pain.

Madam Wei suddenly screamed, gathering her strength to break free from those holding her, and rushed to Xia Chan’s side, crying out, “Master, you watched Chan’er grow up—how could she have done such a thing?”

Xia Jiujang spoke coldly, “Madam Wei, are you implying that I would scheme to ruin Chan’er’s reputation?”

Madam Wei pushed all blame onto Zhang Fu, insisting, “It must have been Zhang Fu. Zhang Fu was tempted by lust and harmed Chan’er. Chan’er misunderstood the Princess, not knowing the truth. All this talk of plots and schemes was Zhang Fu’s doing. These jewels—who knows if Zhang Fu stole them while the house was empty tonight!”

Madam Wei whispered something into Xia Chan’s ear. Xia Chan gritted her teeth, pushed away Madam Wei, and sobbed, “Why does no one believe me? How could I sacrifice my own reputation to frame the Princess? I can’t go on!”

With that, Xia Chan suddenly stood and rushed toward a nearby pillar.

The guests in the Anke Courtyard gasped—a woman seeking to prove her innocence through death, could there really be hidden truths?

Xia Jiujang watched Xia Chan’s actions with a hint of cold amusement. Xia Chan wanted to use this method to prove her innocence, but Xia Jiujang did not believe she would truly seek her own death.

Sure enough, just as Xia Chan was about to hit the pillar, Madam Wei’s personal maid, Haitang, dashed forward and shoved Xia Chan aside. “Third Miss, how can you seek death!”

Haitang pushed Xia Chan away, causing her to crash into a nearby low table. The table held a vase, and Xia Chan fell along with it, crashing to the ground. The vase shattered, and Xia Chan landed on it, crying out in pain.

Xia Jiujang watched coldly as Xia Chan made such a spectacle.

Haitang hadn’t expected her hurried shove to have such consequences. She rushed to Xia Chan’s side, helping her up. “Third Miss, are you alright?”

As Haitang helped her up, blood streamed down Xia Chan’s face. The guests in Anke Courtyard were shocked, “Ah, her face!”

Xia Chan’s face burned with pain. She cried out, “What happened to my face?”

Instinctively, Xia Chan reached to touch her face, but Madam Wei rushed over in terror: “Chan’er, don’t touch—there’ll be scars!”

Scars? Xia Chan glanced at the shattered vase fragments on the floor, stained with blood, and her mind exploded—her face…her face was ruined! She shoved Haitang to the ground, snarling, “You wretched maid, you’ve ruined my face! I’ll kill you!”

Xia Chan pummeled Haitang with fists and kicks, still unable to quell her rage. She grabbed a shard from the floor and slashed Haitang’s face without hesitation. Haitang screamed in agony.

Xia Chan’s demeanor was now utterly different from her earlier suicidal resolve—her viciousness was laid bare before the guests, revealing her attempt at suicide as nothing but a sham.

Her ferocity and hideousness dispelled any sympathy for her supposed willingness to die for innocence.

Failing to outmaneuver Xia Jiujang, losing face, and now being disfigured, Xia Chan’s overwrought emotions sent her into unconsciousness.

Madam Wei was stunned. “Chan’er, Chan’er…”

Xia Wentao’s teeth ground in fury. Xia Chan had destroyed the Xia family’s reputation. Her death was of little consequence, and with her ruined virtue, she lost even the value of being used as a political pawn. She should simply be sent to a nunnery.

Just as Xia Wentao was about to speak, he recalled Xia Jiujang’s miraculous cure of Prince Jin’s mysterious illness, and an idea struck him. “Someone, take Third Miss back to Qinlin Court.”

Xia Jiujang glanced at Xia Wentao—was he truly so kind?

Xia Wentao approached Xia Jiujang and said, “I have a request. Please stay at the Xia household for a few more days. Chan’er has been disfigured; I beg you to heal her.”

The suddenness of his request caught Xia Jiujang off guard. She replied, “Father, that is too much. Chan’er’s disfigurement calls for the imperial physicians, lest she suffer lasting effects. Why come to me?”

Xia Jiujang was no fool; she knew Xia Wentao had ulterior motives.

Xia Wentao spoke with utmost decorum, “Though Chan’er brought this upon herself, she sought to prove her innocence with her life. I believe she was framed by Zhang Fu.”

It was shameless for Xia Wentao to say such a thing.

He continued, “Although Chan’er’s wounds are self-inflicted, I hope you can treat her injuries, for she is your third sister. Perhaps healing her wounds will restore your sisterly bond.”

He dared appeal to sisterhood. Xia Jiujang hesitated, “But I am no miracle doctor…”

Xia Wentao insisted, “I heard Prince Jin was gravely ill days ago, and it was you who cured him. I believe if you are willing, you can heal Chan’er’s face.”

Xia Jiujang shot a glare at Jun Buwen—how did Xia Wentao know Prince Jin’s mysterious illness was cured by her hand?

He had used her as bait without hesitation, directing all attention toward her.

Jun Buwen’s lips curled into a smile, his expression conveying to Xia Jiujang, “Wasn’t it you who volunteered as bait? You must offer the bait, naturally.”

Xia Jiujang smirked, “Since Father trusts me so much, I won’t refuse.”

If Xia Wentao dared to entrust Xia Chan’s face to her, she would like to see what tricks he intended to play.

After Xia Jiujang agreed, Xia Wentao began to handle the aftermath of the birthday banquet, sending the guests on their way.

A grand birthday feast had begun magnificently, only to end in farce.