That night, a torrential rainstorm crashed down upon the estate.
Rain hammered against the rooftops, loud and relentless—like countless pearls scattering across tiles, clattering in chaotic rhythm. Yet with the storm came a welcome coolness, washing away the lingering heat.
In Huining Courtyard, Mama Dai braved the downpour to fetch their allotted ingredients from the main kitchen. She slipped the cook five hundred coins.
The cook accepted with a grin, secretly adding extra portions to every item.
"Your young miss is incredible this time," she said. "I heard even Third Young Master suffered a loss at her hands."
Mama Dai chuckled. "A bet is a bet. One must accept the outcome."
"But how is she so miraculous?" the cook pressed. "Even a severed leg—she could fix it?"
"Not fix," Mama Dai corrected. "She made a false limb and attached it."
"I saw it with my own eyes!" the cook insisted. "The eldest young master walked steadier than I do. If that's fake, it's better than real! Say… there's a rich man near my home—his son is blind. Could your young miss cure that?"
Mama Dai shook her head. "That, she cannot."
After a long round of small talk, Mama Dai returned to the courtyard kitchen.
With the maids' help, she prepared a lavish feast.
Even the two rough servant women and the young maids set up small tables by the doorway to eat together. There was even a jar of fine wine—the cook had gifted it specially.
"In the past, that snobbish cook would never have given us wine," Hongluan beamed. "Our young miss is different now."
Just as they were about to begin—
Bang! Bang!
The courtyard gate was pounded loudly.
Everyone froze.
Zheng Qian nodded to Hongluan. "Go open it."
The door swung open—
A figure in a straw raincoat and bamboo hat nearly shoved Hongluan over as he rushed in, wooden clogs clacking loudly.
"What took you so long?" he grumbled.
Hongluan steadied herself, her own hat slipping. "Fifth Young Master? Why are you here so late?"
He ignored her completely and strode inside.
"Big Sister! You won?!" he shouted.
Zheng Qian rolled her eyes.
"You're slower than someone chasing after a meal that's already gone cold. The whole estate knew this morning—yet you're only asking now?"
Fifth Young Master choked.
He sat himself at the table without ceremony, already reaching for food.
"I was out since early morning," he muttered, stuffing food into his mouth.
He had gone to the training grounds.
He'd thought today would bring his sister's defeat—and couldn't bear to watch her cry.
Zheng Run had long planned to join the military once he turned fifteen.
If he wanted an official career, he'd need noble sponsorship—his father's approval.
But he despised his father.
He would rather carve his own path through military merit.
One day, he thought, I'll stand tall enough to protect my sister.
"I trained all day," he continued between bites, barely swallowing before speaking again. "Ran into that Cheng brat too—had a spar with him. Only came back at dusk."
Zheng Qian frowned. "Eat first. Then talk."
He swallowed hastily and went on anyway:
"On the way back, I met Fourth Brother. He was carrying wine. Said there was something to celebrate."
"Celebrate?" Zheng Qian raised a brow.
"He said—you won."
The rain had already begun then.
Heavy drops slammed down without warning, drenching him in seconds.
By the time he stood stunned in the rain, Zheng Huai had already vanished into the curtain of water.
"I only found out after asking around," Zheng Run said, still eating enthusiastically. "You crushed them! Took all their money!"
Zheng Qian sighed at his lack of manners.
"Slow down before you choke."
"I heard Big Brother can really walk now!" Zheng Run added excitedly. "It's raining tonight—I'll go see him tomorrow morning."
"Tomorrow, then," Zheng Qian replied.
"And Second Uncle had Fourth Brother buy wine to celebrate," he added. "They're happy for you."
Zheng Qian paused.
She hadn't expected that.
At that moment—when everyone else chose to trample her—the Second Branch had stood apart.
Now, with her victory, they celebrated as if it were their own.
Perhaps… she wasn't the only one who had suffered in this household.
"I'll have to thank Second Aunt another day," Zheng Qian said.
Zheng Run nodded.
Huining Courtyard rang with laughter, full bellies, and flowing wine.
But in Second Miss Zheng Yutan's courtyard—
Dark clouds hung heavy.
Her wet nurse bore a fresh slap mark across her face, while several young maids knelt outside in the pouring rain.
In ordinary households, a young lady respected her wet nurse like a second mother.
But not here.
Zheng Yutan treated even her as nothing more than a servant.
Only late into the night, when her anger was spent, did she finally retire.
As the maids withdrew, Lanpei pressed a cold cloth to the nurse's face.
"She deserved it," Lanpei muttered. "Saved up a thousand taels for years—now it's all gone. Even Third Young Master won't be able to support her anymore."
Mama Gan sighed.
"That money," Lanpei added bitterly, "was squeezed from our wages."
"Hush," the nurse warned.
But that night, before sleep, Lanpei whispered to herself:
"Let the heavens bless the eldest young miss… let her keep winning. Let her grind that wretched woman down."
Because when the wall falls—
Even servants like them would finally be free.
The Old Madam spent the entire day surviving on a single bowl of millet porridge.
She wanted to summon Zheng Qian, to demand the money be returned—
But it was in Prince Ancheng's hands.
Even killing Zheng Qian wouldn't bring it back.
Marquis Jing'an was nearly driven mad.
Even his eldest son walking again brought him no joy.
Ten thousand taels…
Even the wealthy Third Madam and her son felt their hearts bleed.
"That wretched girl," Third Young Master snarled coldly. "I'll kill her. She thinks our money is so easy to take?"
"Don't act rashly," Third Madam warned. "If anything happens to her, the money will belong to Prince Ancheng. Wait until she retrieves it. Even if she marries into the Wen family, I'll still find a way to get it back."
Her son took a deep breath.
But his anger burned on.
He had never lost like this.
Never.
And this humiliation—
He would repay it.
With interest.