There is no need to go on living anymore.

The misfortune struck in the blink of an eye. Gu Fei sat in her wheelchair, cold and silent, watching Gu Rou without a ripple of emotion.

Not long after, word spread that Gu Rou had awoken, but she spoke nothing but nonsense—sometimes claiming to see her deceased mother, sometimes appearing calm and lucid, and often talking to the empty air. The entire Gu household was thrown into chaos.

Madam Cui had considered that Gu Rou might be feigning madness to escape the arranged marriage, but no matter how she tested her—even pricking her with a needle—Gu Rou seemed insensible.

With rumors swirling, and the Xiao Mo family not to be offended, Madam Cui was left with a headache, pondering her next move. There were but two or three months left until October; within that time, she had to give the Xiao Mo family an answer.

The Qingmo Courtyard remained as tranquil as ever. Old Nurse Ku grew increasingly anxious as the day of Master Gu Zhong’s ancestral acknowledgment drew near, but Gu Fei was utterly unperturbed, and so the old woman suppressed her other worries.

On this day, in the main residence’s Peony Garden, Madam Cui sat with a furrowed brow, propping her head in deep thought, and soon let out a sigh.

Gu Wanting, pale-faced, sat lower down, her head bowed as if searching for a flower in her palm.

After a long while, Madam Cui spoke, indecisive. “Wanting, must it come to only Wanxiu? I have only you two daughters—how could a mother bear to send both to the Xiao Mo family?”

Gu Wanting’s fingertips trembled. She slowly raised her head, shadows in her eyes.

“It’s all the fault of those useless wretches in the second branch. At such a critical moment, Gu Rou has gone mad!” Madam Cui spoke through gritted teeth, her expression bitter with hatred.

Hearing this, Gu Wanting’s gaze flickered. “Mother, it needn’t be Gu Rou.”

Madam Cui was startled. Gu Fei’s porcelain-pale face flashed through her mind, but she shook her head, finding it impossible. “No, that bastard is a cripple. The Xiao Mo family would never agree.”

Gu Wanting laughed, her once cold and proud face twisting faintly. “If Yuhua agrees, then the Xiao Mo family will not object. I want Gu Fei to live beneath my feet in humiliation for the rest of her life, and any child she bears will call me mother.”

Madam Cui was speechless, staring at Gu Wanting as if seeing her daughter for the first time.

The fact that her own cold constitution made it nearly impossible to bear children had festered in Gu Wanting’s heart as resentment toward Gu Fei. In her mind, her current plight was all Gu Fei’s fault, and this hatred needed an outlet—otherwise, she would collapse under its weight.

Madam Cui’s eyes grew steely cold. “If that’s the case, in just a few days your father will hold the ancestral blood-recognition ceremony for her, and then she’ll be officially entered into our clan. We must not let her pass this recognition. Once it’s proven she’s not of Gu blood, with some coercion, I’ll suggest adopting her as a foster daughter—she’ll have no choice but to accept. A few months from now, when you marry into the Xiao Mo family, she’ll only be able to enter through the side door as a concubine. Later, as soon as you bear an heir to the Mo family and raise him at your knee, her value will be spent—there’ll be no reason to let her live.”

Once begun, there would be no turning back. Madam Cui knew all too well the ruthless arts of the inner chambers, and since Gu Fei was a viper, she would never allow her the chance to rise again. She intended to be utterly thorough.

Gu Wanting curled her lips, as if already seeing Gu Fei’s fate, her expression twisted with malice. “That would be best.”

On the day Gu Rou fainted at the gate of Qingmo Courtyard, it indeed disrupted Gu Fei’s careful plans. But she was in no hurry—the bait had been cast, and what was meant to come would surely come.

Sure enough, not long after—just the next day—Gu Fei was in the small workshop. Seemingly unaware that the bamboo swallow ink mold she’d carved had gone missing, she complained loudly enough for Danqing, who served outside, to hear, blaming Old Nurse Ku for tidying up without telling her.

Picking up another piece of nanmu wood, Gu Fei caught, from the corner of her eye, the way Danqing quietly exhaled in relief. She curled her lips into a cold smile; her dark eyes were icier than ever.

She began carving a second ink mold. As soon as her hand touched the blade, the cold steel seemed to run up her arm, but she quickly calmed her mind, focusing intently. Years of making ink had ingrained in her a habit of total dedication—whatever she did, she did it to perfection.

So when Master Gu Zhong entered the workshop, she was entirely unaware.

As she finished the last detail, flicking her blade to bring the carved lines to life, Gu Fei exhaled deeply. Before she could put down her knife, a crisp applause sounded in her ears, followed by praise: “Excellent!”

Her hand tightened on the blade. Gu Fei looked up in surprise. “Uncle, what brings you here?”

Tall and slender, Gu Zhong stood across the desk, stroking his fine beard as he fixed his gaze on the finished ink mold, his eyes bright with admiration. “Fei, you know this craft—why didn’t you tell your uncle sooner?”

Gu Fei smiled lightly, putting down the knife and flexing her fingers to ease the ache of long hours spent carving. “I only learned a little in the capital, Uncle—mere tricks of the trade, hardly worth showing off before you.”

Gu Zhong picked up the ink mold, examining it again and again, marveling. “Such skilled knife work, such fluid lines, and the pattern is so vivid—it’s sure to make exquisite ink pellets.”

After admiring it, he looked at Gu Fei and, without the slightest pretense, asked, “Fei, why not give this mold to your uncle?”

So blatant—almost like robbery—what more was there to say? Gu Fei inwardly mocked him. “If Uncle likes it, it’s yours.”

With that, she swept the wood shavings from the desk with her sleeve, and, as if by chance, glanced toward the workshop door where Danqing waited.

Gu Zhong, satisfied with the mold, seemed to remember his other purpose. “In three days, the ancestral hall will be opened. This time, it’s mainly for you, to officially enter the clan register. But first, there’ll be a blood-recognition ceremony—just for show before the ancestors. Do you have any objections?”

Leaning back in her wheelchair, her almond-shaped eyes curving gently, Gu Fei smiled obediently. “Since Uncle has arranged it, I have no objections.”

For once, the solemn lines of Gu Zhong’s face softened in a faint smile. He habitually stroked his black beard. “Then you should prepare. I have business at the shop, so I’ll take my leave.”

“Uncle, take care,” Gu Fei replied cheerfully. “Danqing, see Uncle out.”

Gu Zhong hurried off with the mold, so quickly that he was already out the door as Gu Fei gave her instructions, Danqing bowing and following behind to escort him away.

When the two had gone far enough, Gu Fei snorted coldly, a flash of sharpness in her eyes.

Old Nurse Ku appeared suddenly, stepping in and handing Gu Fei a damp, clean cloth to wipe her hands, her face full of concern. “Miss, we cannot go through with this blood-recognition. Should I use force to make them cancel it?”

Gu Fei shook her head, her gaze lowered as she carefully wiped each finger. “No need. There is someone else who will help us handle it.”

With those words, she looked in the direction Gu Zhong had left, a deep, enigmatic smile spreading across her face.