Chapter 6: The Words of a Mother
Chapter 6: The Words of a Mother
“Dead? His mother is dead?”
Chu Yanran’s fury didn't just flare; it surged into a cold, suffocating tide. She was alive—very much alive—and the audacity of the claim felt like a physical blow.
*Crash!*
With a violent sweep of her arm, Chu Yanran cleared the table, sending fine porcelain shattering across the floor in a spray of white shards. “Listen to him! What son in his right mind prays for his own mother’s death?”
“Chen the Half-wit!” she hissed, her voice trembling with lethal intent. “If I ever lay hands on you, I will grind your bones to dust!”
She turned to the trembling staff. “Send the servants out. Scour his sisters’ quarters. Find that boy. I will beat him until there is nothing left to pulp!”
Uncle Hu bowed his head, his face a mask of practiced neutrality, and hurried to execute the command.
In the corner of the room, Chen Qiuyue finished a move on the Beast Chess board. She stretched languidly, the movement highlighting the graceful, lithe curves of her youth. “Mother, why are you so frantic? He’ll crawl back eventually. He always does.”
A mischievous, almost cruel glint danced in Chen Qiuyue’s eyes. “Remember the spring outing a year ago? We ‘forgot’ him in the hills. He wandered for three days and nights before he found his way back to the manor.”
She let out a light, melodic giggle. “His feet were a mess of blisters and blood. He looked like a common beggar. It was the funniest thing I’d ever seen!”
Chen Qiuyue’s laughter was carefree, utterly devoid of empathy.
Chu Yanran fell silent. The memory was vivid. Chen Chang’an had returned in tattered rags, his legs buckling beneath him as he collapsed at the gates, sobbing uncontrollably. At the time, Chu Yanran had recoiled, disgusted by the stench of sweat and filth, and pushed him away with her foot.
*Had I been too harsh?* The thought flickered briefly before being extinguished by her lingering rage.
“Seventh Sister, how can you say that? You nearly killed the boy,” a cool, authoritative voice interrupted.
A tall, elegant woman stepped into the room, her presence commanding immediate respect. This was Chen Hongluo, the eldest daughter of the Chen family and the shrewd manager of Ni Shang Hall.
“Eldest Sister, how did I harm him?” Chen Qiuyue pouted, refusing to yield.
“You abandoned him in the wilderness,” Chen Hongluo said, shaking her head. “Those mountains are infested with wolves and leopards. If a beast had taken him, Father would have surely thrown you into the Water Prison to rot.”
“I know, I know...” Chen Qiuyue drawled, her tone making it clear she didn't care in the slightest.
Chu Yanran looked up. “Hongluo, did he come to see you?”
“No. I’ve been buried in ledgers at Ni Shang Hall. I only heard of his disappearance upon my return. Mother, what has happened now?”
“What happened? The same old story. The ninth idiot is having another one of his tantrums!” Chu Yanran’s voice rose as she recounted the previous day’s humiliations. “I thought if he came back, I’d simply ignore him for a few days as a lesson. But now? I won’t be satisfied until I’ve broken a hundred Discipline Rods over his back! I’ll snap his legs myself!”
Chen Hongluo sighed softly. “Mother, calm yourself. He hasn't the wit to go far. Don’t let your health suffer for his sake.”
The Eldest Princess’s words acted as a balm, and Chu Yanran’s breathing finally steadied. One by one, the servants returned, their reports a litany of failure.
“Your Highness, he is not at the Second Princess’s quarters.”
“He is not with the Fourth...”
“The Sixth Princess reports no sign of him...”
Chu Yanran’s fists clenched until her knuckles turned white. *Ninth idiot, where are you hiding? Come back. Just come back so I can show you the true meaning of suffering.*
***
The following morning, the heavens opened. A torrential downpour lashed Jiangdu, threatening to breach the river levees. Chu Yanran, served by a small army of maids, finished a lavish breakfast. Despite the luxury, she sat in a state of simmering, smug resentment.
Finally, she rose. “Hongluo, come with me.”
Chen Hongluo glanced at the gray sky. “Mother, the weather is treacherous. Where are we going?”
“To Qingfeng Academy. I want to hear it from the tutors’ own mouths. I want to know exactly how he described my ‘death’!”
Qingfeng Academy was a modest institution, a far cry from the prestige of the Imperial Academy. It took two grueling hours for the carriage to navigate the flooded streets. When they arrived, they were met by the Head Tutor, an elderly man named Tutor Wang.
He looked at Chu Yanran with genuine confusion when she stated her business. “Chen Chang’an claimed he was observing Mourning Rites for his mother. You... you are his mother?”
Chu Yanran bit her lip, her eyes flashing. “How dare you? If I weren't his mother, would I have braved this deluge to find him? When did he leave? What did he say? Tell me everything!”
Tutor Wang seemed utterly baffled. “If you are truly his mother, surely he would be at your home. How would I know where the boy resides?”
Chu Yanran was momentarily speechless. Tutor Wang reached into his robes and produced a folded sheet of paper. “About a week ago, he sent this note via a messenger.”
Chu Yanran snatched the paper. The handwriting was neat, the tone almost disturbingly polite:
*To the Esteemed Tutor:*
*My mother has recently passed away. I must observe the Mourning Rites at home to fulfill the sacred bond between mother and son. I shall be unable to attend the academy for the coming days and humbly crave your indulgence. Once the funeral matters are settled, I shall return to my studies and prepare for the Hall Exams.*
Chen Hongluo peered over her mother’s shoulder. “His prose has improved. He’s quite concise now.”
Chu Yanran crumpled the note into a ball. “He is cursing me! He wants me in the grave!” She turned her fury on the old man. “Tutor Wang, I left him in your care. You are responsible for this insolence!”
Tutor Wang’s patience finally snapped. He looked at the opulent carriage, the silk robes, and the healthy glow of the woman before him. “You arrived in a private carriage, dressed in the finest silks Jiangdu has to offer. Are you truly his kin?”
“You doubt my word?”
“I do,” Tutor Wang said, his voice cold. “Chen Chang’an walked to this academy every day. He survived on a single steamed bun and handfuls of wild grass. He has fainted from sheer malnutrition in my classroom more than once. If you were truly his mother, how could you possess such a venomous heart? How could you live in such luxury while he starved?”
Chu Yanran’s mouth hung open, her teeth clicking shut as she struggled for a retort.
“Enough. I will not waste more breath on you.” Tutor Wang stepped back and slammed the heavy wooden doors. “The academy is closed. Begone.”
Left with no choice, they retreated to the carriage. The ride back to the Huainan Manor was conducted in a heavy, suffocating silence. When they entered the main hall, they found the Prince of Huainan, Chen Zhan, waiting for them.
“You went to the academy yourself?” Chen Zhan asked, frowning. “You could have sent a page.”
Chu Yanran slammed the crumpled note onto the table. “Read it. Your son is going to be the death of me!”
Chen Zhan scanned the lines, his expression darkening into a mask of pure lethality. To curse a parent with death was the ultimate sin of unfilial impiety. “Useless!” he roared. “We are the House of Huainan! Are you telling me we cannot find one boy in this city?”
A crack of thunder shook the manor. Uncle Hu and the servants dropped to their knees instantly. Even the daughters—Hongluo, Chunhua, and Qiuyue—trembled as they knelt before their father’s wrath.
“Find him!” Chen Zhan commanded. “Dig up the very paving stones if you must! Uncle Hu, summon all my children. They are to drop their duties and return home immediately.”
“Uncle Hu,” Chu Yanran added quickly, “do not disturb Sheng’er. The Hall Exams are nearly here, and he and the Half-wit never got along. He won't know anything anyway.”
She managed a small, smug smile, her eyes cold. “Even if that unfilial brat dies in a ditch, I still have Sheng’er. He is the one who will honor me in my old age and see me to my rest.”
Uncle Hu closed his eyes, a pang of sorrow piercing his heart. He was a mere servant, but he couldn't help the thought that screamed in his mind: *Is that what a mother is supposed to say?*