Spit out that sum of silver.

At this moment, the sun was near its zenith, vast daylight pouring down, carrying the scorching heat of midsummer—a glare capable of stinging the very skin. The sunlight was so intense that Gu Fei narrowed her eyes to look ahead. Her gaze swept across Manager Shang first, then settled on Gu Zhong, paying him no real attention, her tone flat as she said, “Uncle, if you refused to hold the auction, then I would do it myself. The fragrant ink sold well. Had you not interfered with Mo Yan, today’s orders might have doubled. Now, you act so fierce toward your own family, casting cold looks and furrowed brows. If the money is gone, it can be earned again, but Uncle, you risk chilling the hearts of your kin.”

With no outsiders present, Gu Fei made no effort to conceal her annoyance with Gu Zhong, sparing him not a bit of face, her words sharp with irony.

Gu Zhong’s face was livid, his eyes flicking to Manager Shang at his side. Infuriated and ashamed, he scolded, “Family? What kind of family member are you, so rebellious? No matter how quick your tongue, you won’t escape punishment today. You must return the silver you took!”

It all boiled down to envy over the money earned at yesterday’s auction.

Gu Fei let out a cold laugh. Only a fool would spit out the silver she’d already swallowed. That money was a countermeasure against Gu Zhong—this was merely the beginning.

Her lips curled, eyes icy, and she spoke firmly, “If that’s so, then wait and see, Uncle.”

As her words fell, Ku Ma, quick-witted, stomped her foot, murderous intent rising. She shot Gu Zhong a fierce look, then, ignoring everyone, pushed Gu Fei’s wheelchair past him and straight through the gate toward Qingmo Courtyard.

Gu Zhong nearly ground his teeth to dust, but he dared not budge. Ku Ma’s glare chilled him to the core, as if he’d fallen into an ice cellar, yet he also felt humiliation and venom—emotions stirred by utter contempt.

Back at Qingmo Courtyard, Ku Ma bustled about, inside and out. She was the only servant in the entire courtyard, handling both rough and delicate tasks, so she was busy from dawn to dusk.

Gu Fei was hardly at ease herself. Alone, she wheeled to the cistern beneath the eaves, watching the lively koi swim freely, unmoving for a long while.

The cicadas’ summer chorus was loud and relentless. Ordinarily, to avoid disturbance during rest, a maid would take a net to catch the cicadas and chase them away.

Gu Fei seemed not to hear, lost in her own thoughts, retracing every event since settling in the Gu family in Yizhou, reflecting thrice on each step, whether failure or success, weighing them thoroughly.

Only then did she realize—whether facing Gu Zhong, Mo Yuhua, or even Mo Yan—if she confronted them directly, her chances of victory were slim. If she couldn’t carve out a foothold for herself in Yizhou, how could she ever hope to challenge the grand Mo family in the capital?

Thus, from the outset, she should never have been satisfied with merely securing her place in the Gu family. Had she aimed from the beginning to seize control from Gu Zhong, he would not have dared to feign compliance, nor would the minor Mo family have found an opportunity to plot, lay out such an immense scheme, and drag Mo Cheng into it without real harm.

That was her greatest failure.

Ku Ma finished preparing lunch, but saw Gu Fei still motionless. She quietly laid out the dishes, then returned to gently knead Gu Fei’s shoulders, her touch firm yet comfortable.

“Miss, it’s time to eat,” Ku Ma said.

Gu Fei seemed still lost in thought. After a moment, she spoke, “Ku Ma, you’re the only one here, isn’t it too much? We’re not short on money; perhaps we should buy two maids.”

Ku Ma smiled, turning the wheelchair. “I’m fine, Miss. Serving you isn’t too taxing. But since you mention buying maids, I think pounding the ink blocks is strenuous work. You could use an honest helper so you can focus on crafting the formulas.”

Gu Fei hadn’t considered this. She picked up the lotus-leaf bowl, blew gently at the assorted honey soup within, cupped it in her hands, and before drinking, touched it with her tongue like a kitten tasting milk. Once she found it wasn’t hot, she took a small sip, delighting in the fresh flavor blossoming on her tongue. Her appetite improved, and she felt hungry. “That’s a good suggestion. Approved.”

Ku Ma beamed, her hands swift as she served half a bowl of rice and added some crisp marinated wood ear mushrooms to a small dish, placing them by Gu Fei’s side. “This afternoon, I’ll ask around to see which matchmaker in Yizhou has the most people.”

Gu Fei nodded. Ku Ma could handle such matters well—there was no need for her to worry, just oversee the final choice.

After eating, it was time for the customary midday rest. Before returning to her room, Gu Fei reminded Ku Ma, “If Gu Zhong comes these days, say my old illness has flared up and I’m bedridden, seeing no one.”

Then her eyes gleamed darkly. “Keep watch on Second Master Gu Jiang and Gu Rou’s movements.”

Ku Ma’s expression grew solemn as she helped Gu Fei loosen her clothes. “Miss, are you planning to move against the second branch?”

Gu Fei shook her head and lay on the bed, feeling lethargic. “No, it’s to win them over. It’s high time the Gu family had a new head.”

Ku Ma was deeply gratified. “Miss, you should have done this long ago. You used to be too gentle. If you aim for great things, indecision at critical moments is a fatal flaw.”

Gu Fei slowly closed her eyes, giving no reply. Whether Ku Ma’s words sank in, no one could say.

Later that day, Ku Ma reported that Gu Zhong had indeed come to Qingmo Courtyard, but was turned away. As for Gu Jiang, he was as usual, drowning in drink and debauchery. Gu Rou, however, behaved oddly. She had previously feigned madness to deceive Madam Cui, but seeing that trick no longer worked, she quieted down and caused no further trouble. Recently, servants said, she frequented Zhaojue Temple outside Yizhou, staying there for two or three days at a time under the guise of cultivating virtue through prayer.

Gu Fei sneered, instructing Ku Ma to keep watching. Whatever Gu Rou was up to, her true colors would show eventually—and if needed, Gu Fei could even help her along.

As for news about the minor Mo Ink Workshop that Gu Fei wanted, Ku Ma had also uncovered the truth: the batch of auctioned ink pills, including the one engraved with the name Mo Qingge, all came from the grand Mo family in the capital.

A whole batch, dozens of them, and Mo Yuhua had even shown her that there were duplicate sets—two of each kind. With such a large number, Gu Fei refused to believe they were privately sold by someone in the capital Mo family; the accounting there was too strict to deceive. The family head personally checked the ledgers daily, and the whereabouts of each ink pill was meticulously recorded.

Thus, there was only one explanation—

The minor Mo family in Yizhou had long been in contact with the capital Mo family, and the connection ran deep.

Gu Fei examined the ink pill engraved with Mo Qingge’s name—it was not old. Her sharp eyes could tell it was made only months ago, when she was still in the capital Mo family.

As for Mo Qingge, she knew him too well.

She was sure—absolutely certain—that ink pill was not crafted by Mo Qingge himself.