Chapter 43

Tang Xiaoyu’s delicate pear-blossom-like features, initially softened by a faint smile, instantly sharpened with a frosty intensity, as if moonlight had frozen into icy blades. “What did she say?”

Butler Qiao, as the name implied, was the Ming family’s steward. Her father had worked for the Ming family, and she herself had served them for nearly two decades. If even she could not be trusted, then the entire Ming household was on the brink of collapse.

Tang Xiaoyu had not explicitly instructed her to investigate Aunt, but by narrowing the scope of the inquiry to the family’s internal affairs, it was inevitable that the investigation would intersect with Aunt, even if indirectly. Thus, it was no surprise that she hadn’t crossed paths with Shi Yan, who was investigating Aunt from a different angle.

Since the listening devices were traced back to Aunt, any investigation would inevitably lead to her, whether directly or indirectly.

There was no reason for Tang Xiaoyu to conceal this matter from Ming Yue, who was fully aware of every step of the process. In Ming Yue’s absence, Butler Qiao reported to her instead.

Ming Yue’s round eyes darkened with concealed emotion. “Butler Qiao confirmed that there are indeed issues with the household staff.”

As she spoke, she retrieved a file folder and handed it to Tang Xiaoyu.

This was the second file folder Tang Xiaoyu had encountered that evening. Her expression turned subtly complex, uncertain whether to hope for something different in this one.

Ming Yue, having already reviewed its contents, added, “Butler Qiao mentioned there are also some audio recordings on a memory card. We can play them on the computer.”

Tang Xiaoyu reached inside and felt a USB-like object at the bottom of the folder. “Did she specify what they’re about?”

Ming Yue replied, “They’re recordings of gossip from former staff who were dismissed.”

Tang Xiaoyu’s gaze hardened. She already knew what they contained without listening.

After returning to the Ming family, she had overheard the servants discussing her background—how her years away had left her with no emotional ties to the family, making her inferior to Ming Jiao.

Of course, that was the mildest and most tactful version of the rumors.

Later, her sister discovered that Ming Jiao had instigated the staff to gossip and ostracize her behind her back. This, combined with Ming Jiao spreading rumors outside that Tang Xiaoyu was an illegitimate child, culminated in the dismissal of the staff and Ming Jiao’s expulsion from the household.

Recalling her recent conversation with Ming Jiao and these not-so-distant events, Tang Xiaoyu felt as if a lifetime had passed.

Yet she understood that Butler Qiao wouldn’t dredge up old grievances without reason. There must be something more to it.

Sure enough, Ming Yue frowned, her tone laden with resentment. “These people were two-faced. On the surface, they accepted her bribes to spread rumors and sabotage you. But in reality, they were also taking orders from someone else, slandering her in turn and fueling conflicts on both sides.”

The “her” referred, of course, to Ming Jiao.

As for the “someone else,” it could only be Aunt.

The thought struck Tang Xiaoyu as ironic, yet she couldn’t fathom why Aunt would go to such lengths. She pulled the printed documents from the folder.

The first section listed the problematic staff—both dismissed and still employed—detailing when, where, and with whom they had spread rumors, all meticulously recorded.

A separate list identified suspects related to the listening devices, noting the dates they had approached or entered Ming Jiao’s room, with some entries highlighted in red for further verification.

None of these records explicitly linked Aunt to the incidents, yet the summarized clues vaguely and ambiguously pointed toward her.

The last few pages contained the second investigation record regarding the rumors about Tang Xiaoyu being an illegitimate child.

Ming Jiao’s name was still there, but the position of the mastermind behind it all had been replaced by Aunt.

Tang Xiaoyu’s gaze lingered on the paper for a long time without a word.

Ming Yue knew what she was looking at, her expression complicated.

She remembered the day the truth came out—Ming Jiao admitted it was her doing, not only admitting it but doing so arrogantly, without any attempt to conceal it.

She had been present too, right in this very hall, where the atmosphere was more oppressive than the storm before a tsunami.

Yet Ming Jiao showed no fear, nor any restraint. After admitting everything in front of her sister, she pointed venomously at the ice-cold Tang Xiaoyu and said, “Why? I just want to see her suffer, to see her miserable. I hate her so much I wish she were dead.”

That crazed expression and shrill voice not only filled Ming Yue with profound pain and disappointment at the time but also haunted her nightmares for many days afterward.

Even now, thinking about Ming Jiao’s words and the ensuing arguments sent chills down Ming Yue’s spine.

She glanced up at Tang Xiaoyu again and noticed she showed no disgust at the memories, nor any inner conflict—she was simply lost in thought, contemplating with absolute rationality.

“Sis, what are you thinking about?”

Perhaps noticing the confusion in her eyes, Tang Xiaoyu’s voice was as gentle as pear blossoms drifting in the wind, and even her fingertips brushing Ming Yue’s cheek were soft and tender. “I’m thinking about what you’re thinking.”

Ming Yue bit her lip. “Did we wrong her?”

Tang Xiaoyu replied, “Whether she was involved at all, and to what extent—only she truly knows.”

“Then…” Ming Yue hesitated before asking, “Does she know Aunt is using her again?” She wasn’t dull; reflecting on past events, she realized Aunt’s shadow had always been there. “Had Aunt been using Ming Jiao all along?”

Tang Xiaoyu only answered her first question, and with certainty: “She knows.”

Ming Yue was taken aback, puzzled. “Why?”

If all along Ming Jiao had been manipulated by Aunt, not the other way around, and if she knew Aunt was using her as a pawn, then why would she still…

Tang Xiaoyu slowly lowered her hand to rest on Ming Yue’s shoulder. “She allows Aunt to use her because, ultimately, Aunt is very important to her.”

Ming Yue’s eyes flickered, and she quickly lowered her head. Was Aunt so important? Weren’t they important too?

She could understand but couldn’t comprehend how someone could abandon those who treated her well and instead accommodate those who hurt her.

Then Tang Xiaoyu added, “As for her relationship with you all… there’s a saying: ‘Spilt water cannot be gathered up.'”

Ming Yue stiffened, overwhelmed by immense frustration and sorrow. Indeed, it was like spilt water—even before Tang Xiaoyu returned, aside from their mother and sister, she and Ming Jiao hadn’t spoken privately at all.

But after the frustration came even greater anger. In the end, Aunt was still more important. They had grown distant after their cold war and arguments, and Ming Jiao had never once tried to reconcile—not even once.

A firm yet gentle pressure on her shoulder pulled her out of her thoughts.

Ming Yue slowly looked up, feeling both wronged and resentful. “Sis, I’m so angry!”

So angry at her.

Tang Xiaoyu said softly, “I know.” She always maintained such composure—even when Ming Jiao had hysterically declared she wished to see her dead, she had remained calm.

No, perhaps it was better described as indifference.

Back then, her eyes had resembled a frozen lake, their surface so tranquil it sent shivers down one’s spine. It was as though sparing even a sliver of emotion for Ming Jiao would be wasteful, be it hatred.

At that time, she hadn’t cared about Ming Jiao, but now things were different.

Ming Yue pondered this, uncertain whether the change in Tang Xiaoyu and Ming Jiao’s relationship was for better or worse.

“Sis, what if one day she finds out you…”

“She will know,” Tang Xiaoyu replied. “I’ll tell her when the time is right.”

Ming Yue couldn’t quite imagine how Ming Jiao would react then, but what puzzled her more was, “Aren’t you angry with her at all?”

Her own relationship with Ming Jiao had its ups and downs—the good times made her nostalgic and reluctant to let go, while the bad moments left her heart chilled and unwilling to engage further.

But Tang Xiaoyu and Ming Jiao’s relationship had always been strained, to the point where, if it were anyone else, wanting to harm Ming Jiao wouldn’t be surprising.

Tang Xiaoyu shook her head gently, her dark eyes veiled in a faint mist. Though devoid of their former iciness, they remained inscrutable. “Get some rest early.”

The night had grown deep. Tang Xiaoyu went upstairs to retire, but Ming Yue still felt no drowsiness.

Fortunately, tomorrow was Saturday, so staying up late wasn’t an issue.

After confirming that Tang Xiaoyu had returned to her room, she tiptoed back to the refrigerator and opened the door, staring blankly at the all-too-familiar ice cream packaging.

It was the kind only sold at the ice cream shop near the bookstore. Tang Xiaoyu had never had the habit or inclination to buy snacks; in the past, her financial situation hadn’t allowed it, and over time, anything could become a habit.

The habit of buying snacks, however, belonged to someone else entirely.

Someone who had grown up in abundance and indulgence, lacking nothing yet striving for everything—someone Ming Yue increasingly failed to understand, who wore two faces, making her almost envious and resentful of her own masked self.

Tang Xiaoyu had told her to follow her heart.

But what did it mean to follow her heart, and what did she truly want?

Ming Yue couldn’t escape the realization that, upon learning some things weren’t Ming Jiao’s doing, she felt considerably lighter. Certain convictions, never very firm to begin with, were beginning to waver.

This sense of relief persisted even when thoughts of Aunt brought sadness and confusion, unable to be dispelled.

Didn’t this simply mean Ming Jiao and Aunt had swapped roles in targeting them? Of course, Aunt’s actions were more detestable and malicious.

But knowing Ming Jiao wasn’t the mastermind behind it all made her feel so much better.

Cold air brushed against her face in waves, and Ming Yue suddenly felt a surge of embarrassment, unsure toward whom. She covered her cheeks with both hands.

And Ming Jiao—telling her to stay away from people who made her unhappy and to prioritize her own feelings.

She made it sound so easy, but did she practice what she preached?

Ming Yue slowly lowered her hands. What did she want? She wanted to understand what Ming Jiao was truly thinking.

Since Ming Jiao was so kind to someone she’d only just met, she might as well continue interacting with her under this identity. In time, she would surely grasp Ming Jiao’s thoughts.

Perhaps once she figured it out, she could also clarify what she herself truly wanted. And only by understanding her own desires could she truly follow her heart.

Having decided on her course of action, Ming Yue felt a sudden clarity, and even the ice cream before her seemed more appealing. She quickly grabbed one.

Only when the cool, creamy texture melted in her mouth did she realize what she had done.

Ming Yue cautiously glanced around—no one had noticed her sneaking ice cream late at night.

Perfect. She breathed a sigh of relief, closed the refrigerator door, and scurried back to her room.

Sunday.

In Tang Xiaoyu’s expectations, she wouldn’t see Ming Jiao again until some time later.

Ming Jiao, too, assumed Tang Xiaoyu would be too busy to bother with her anytime soon. She intended to focus on her career, hone her skills—in every aspect—and also keep an eye on Xiao Ying’s movements, trying to determine whether her sudden appearance nearby was a coincidence, had other reasons, or was in any way connected to her.

But as the saying goes, plans can’t keep up with changes—a truth that applied to everyone involved, even Ming Jiao, who was half spectator, half performer waiting in the wings.

For instance, she never expected Xie Chu, who had been trying hard to stay under the radar around her, to suddenly call.

At that moment, Ming Jiao stared with a peculiar expression at her daily-use white “Flowing Clouds” phone, as if it had suddenly turned into a venomous snake ready to bite.

The System reacted even more strongly, as though she were holding a pack of explosives, treating it like a major threat. “Uncourteous kindness hides treachery. Host, are you going to answer? How?”

Ming Jiao couldn’t tell if it was genuinely nervous or just clowning around. She twitched her lips. “I’ll answer it by holding it in my hand.”

With that, she stopped bantering with the System, promptly answered the call, and immediately took control. “Who are you looking for? If you dialed the wrong number, you can still hang up now.”