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  That night, the bck-market lenders who had been pestering Duke Ying's household for over a month did not appear. For several consecutive days, the household remained unusually peaceful. This quietness made Lady He relieved yet simultaneously anxious.

  Though the Song family had been appeased for now, Grandmaster Yuanhui and Huangjue Temple had been thoroughly offended.

  Shen Xiaohai was even more frightened than Lady He. He sent people to gather news repeatedly for days. When he learned that the abbot of Huangjue Temple had personally gone to Shuntian Prefecture to bring Yuanhui back, he felt as though darkness enveloped him, deeply convinced that his end was near.

  Others might not know Yuanhui's methods, but he was acutely aware of them. Compassion and mercy—traits usually associated with monks—were absent in Yuanhui. Instead, he had witnessed Yuanhui’s ruthless tactics firsthand, especially toward those assassins who cked diligence or harbored disloyalty.

  He was so terrified that sleep eluded him each night, constantly dreading waking up to Yuanhui’s bloodthirsty gaze.

  Now, he regretted it deeply—regretted helping Song Chuyi with this task that gravely offended Yuanhui. He had always known Yuanhui's ambitions. Now, he had utterly destroyed Yuanhui's future, tarnishing his reputation beyond repair… Shen Xiaohai gripped the armrests of his chair tightly, tossing and turning in fear, unable to sleep. His mind was consumed with these thoughts, becoming increasingly fearful.

  When he thought to seek help from the Song family, his mind suddenly cleared, and he stood stunned as if struck by lightning. There had been no real necessity for Song Chuyi to have him personally serve that cup of tea to Yuanhui. If Song Chuyi wished, she could easily have dispatched a trusted subordinate with a simir excuse to lure Yuanhui down the mountain and administer the tampered tea with only minor inconvenience. Yet, she had spoken so persuasively and ambiguously, implying that only Duke Ying's household could handle this task, and that their household's very survival depended on it.

  Upon further reflection, Song Chuyi had never openly acknowledged any association with these lenders, instead conveniently shifting all bme onto the Marquis of Wuning’s household… Shen Xiaohai's mind raced chaotically, feeling as if thousands of ants were crawling inside his head, causing him to colpse limply onto the chair, unable to move.

  The Song family had never needed Duke Ying's household specifically; they had chosen him deliberately because they knew whoever undertook this task would irrevocably become Yuanhui's mortal enemy. Yuanhui would surely loathe the Song family as the masterminds, but he would harbor even deeper hatred for Shen Xiaohai, who had personally deceived him.

  Cold sweat drenched Shen Xiaohai’s face, trickling down his neck and seeping beneath his clothes, sending a shiver down his body.

  A knock at the door startled him so violently that he sprang upright, his voice tense with suspicion as he demanded to know who it was. Only upon hearing Lady He's voice did he rex slightly, calling her in, eyes wide with lingering fear.

  Lady He, unlike him, did not ponder deeply on recent events. She merely understood the relief of freedom from debt. Over these st few days, no debt collectors had come knocking, Shen Qingrang had finally returned home, and even Old Lady Shen’s illness had greatly improved.

  After closing the door behind her, Lady He noticed Shen Xiaohai’s dreadful pallor and the cold sweat gleaming on his forehead. Worriedly, she stepped forward and touched his forehead. "What's the matter, husband? Your face looks so pale. Have you caught a chill?"

  Shen Xiaohai pushed her hand away. He stared at her, torn between the desire to scold and the realization that there was nothing to scold her for. After all, it was he himself who had chosen to act upon Song Chuyi's words, not Lady He.

  He shook his head weakly, closed his eyes in exhaustion, and asked, "What do you want?"

  Lady He sighed upon hearing his question. "Though the debt collectors have stopped coming, our household expenses remain considerable. For example, the second master of Changning Marquis’s manor is marrying a new wife—we must prepare a generous gift, another significant expense. Mother's medical treatments with Physician Hu and the Imperial Physician have also cost us dearly..."

  She paused briefly, carefully studying Shen Xiaohai's reaction, then tentatively continued, "My Lord, forgive me for speaking bluntly, but life in the capital is becoming increasingly difficult. You currently hold no official post, and Seventh Young Master has proven himself incapable... Fortunately, we still have the ancestral home and several hundred acres of nd back in our hometown. Life there could be more comfortable. Perhaps we should return?"

  A jolt shot through Shen Xiaohai as if struck by lightning. He fixed her with a dark, penetrating gaze before suddenly questioning sharply, "Who taught you to say this?"

  Lady He tilted her head, puzzled, gncing around as if lost, then back at him in confusion. "What did you say?"

  Grabbing her hand tightly, Shen Xiaohai anxiously repeated louder, "I asked, who taught you this? Who told you to suggest returning home?"

  Lady He, assuming he was angry, knew of his ambitions to revive the declining Duke Ying’s household, to restore its former glory.

  "No one instructed me," she replied cautiously, peeking nervously at his expression. Not seeing the outburst she'd feared, she rexed slightly and softly urged, "It came up in idle talk with Sixth Miss Song previously. Her words made sense, and upon reflection, I realized our family's situation truly is dire. Besides annual imperial rewards, we have no steady income. Our business dealings in the Northwest have long since colpsed. Several estates were sold off, and that money was also invested in the Northwest, only to lose it amidst all those troubles... If we linger in the capital much longer, our current standard of living may soon become unsustainable. If we reach that point, our ancestors would truly be disgraced..."

  Song Chuyi. It was Song Chuyi! Shen Xiaohai stared bnkly at Lady He, speechless.

  Song Chuyi had foreseen it all: knowing Yuanhui would never forgive him, she'd prepared this outcome long ago—forcing them back to their ancestral home, where they would live humbly for the rest of their days.

  Song Chuyi had never intended to spare their household at all. She'd cleverly achieved two goals at once—using him to ruin Yuanhui's reputation while leveraging Yuanhui’s inevitable vengeance to intimidate Shen Xiaohai into leaving the capital.

  To think he'd been maniputed so effortlessly by a mere young girl without even realizing it! Now, even if he understood the trap he'd walked into, it was already too te. Shen Xiaohai closed his eyes in agony, overcome by an urge to pound his chest in despair.

  Lady He grew fearful under his silent, intense stare, softly calling out, "My Lord?"

  Shen Xiaohai seemed suddenly aged by ten years. The forced gloom between his brows faded entirely, leaving him as defeated as a rooster after battle. He waved dismissively in resignation, murmuring weakly, "You're right... You’re right. Let it be as you say."

  After all, what other choice did he have? If he hesitated any longer, Yuanhui’s vengeance would truly be the ruin of Duke Ying's household—and it would be entirely his fault.