"Jiayi," Song Huifei's voice snapped through the hall, her tone colder than the winter wind. "Return to your room."
Xi Jiayi's eyes flickered briefly toward her stepmother. She neither argued nor showed any reaction. A subtle shrug of her shoulders, and she turned away, her footsteps soft and unhurried as she ascended the stairs.
The hem of her dress disappeared from sight, leaving only the oppressive silence of the hall.
Song Huifei shifted her gaze back to the two intruders. Her figure was poised, every movement refined, her aura like that of an orchid swaying in the storm—graceful, but not fragile.
"Fourth Elder Qin, Suyin," she began evenly, her voice as smooth as still water. "I will ask only once. Why are you here?"
Qin Weishan gave a cough, leaning on his cane, the perfect image of a kindly elder. "Madam Song, must you sound so hostile? This is the Qin residence, and I am of Qin blood. Is it wrong for me to check on the household, especially when rumors are flying everywhere?"
Beside him, Qin Suyin lowered her eyes demurely, her tone coated in honey. "Auntie Song, you misunderstand. Grandfather and I only wish to help. Cousin Jiayi is young and alone. Wouldn't it be better to support her, to acknowledge her place properly? Unity is strength."
The words were sweet, almost pitiful, like a white lotus blooming innocently in murky waters. Yet behind them lay ambition sharp enough to cut steel.
Song Huifei's lips curved, a delicate smile that did not reach her eyes. She had been raised among scholars, taught to move with dignity, to veil blade with silk. Years as Qin Guohai's wife, standing by his side as the matriarch of the Qin family, had honed that grace into a weapon.
"Support?" she repeated softly, tilting her head just slightly. "How touching. Tell me, Elder Weishan, since when have you shown concern for illegitimate children?"
The words slid from her lips like silk, but the weight beneath them struck sharp.
Qin Weishan's expression stiffened for a breath. He forced a chuckle, hiding his irritation. "Times change. A child is still of Qin blood. Shouldn't we, as elders, nurture rather than divide?"
"Nurture?" Song Huifei's smile deepened, elegant and devastating. "If I recall, you once called that same child a stain. And now you arrive—conveniently—when whispers circulate about the Qin family. Surely, your heart isn't moved by sudden affection?"
Qin Suyin's lips parted, her eyes widening in a picture of innocent shock. "Auntie Song, how could you think so? We came because we care. The Qin family is facing storms—shouldn't we stand together? Recognizing Cousin Jiayi is only right."
Song Huifei's gaze slid to her, calm and unshaken. "My dear Suyin, you're still young. Let me teach you something—unity without sincerity is nothing but rot. You speak of family, but your smiles reek of calculation."
Her voice did not rise. It did not need to. The weight of her words pressed down, suffocating.
Qin Weishan's cane tapped sharply against the floor. "Song Huifei," he said, his tone finally losing its false gentleness. "Be careful with your tongue. Don't forget, the Qin family does not belong to you alone."
"Indeed," Song Huifei replied smoothly, unruffled, her hands folded elegantly before her. "The Qin family belongs to the Qin bloodline. That is why I find it strange—your sudden eagerness to embrace one child, while for years you dismissed her. It makes me wonder… is it her blood you care for, or her position?"
Her words, graceful as flowing ink, carried barbs no one could miss.
Qin Weishan's face darkened, the smile unable to hold. His granddaughter bit her lip, her gentle façade beginning to crack.
Before the elder could spit his retort, another voice rang from the entrance of the hall—clear, steady, and commanding.
"What position are we speaking of?"
All eyes turned.
There, at the doorway, stood a woman in an elegant coat, her figure tall, her presence refined. Her voice carried the kind of weight that silenced arguments without effort.