"You dare shout at me, you little bastard?!"
Rouge's face flushed crimson with rage, trembling so violently even her hairpins rattled. Though many servants privately mocked Qin Chen as a "bastard," none dared say it to his face—not when Qin Yuechi remained the Qin family's eldest daughter, however disgraced.
But fury stripped Rouge of caution. She jabbed a finger at Qin Chen, sneering: "Calling you 'Young Master' doesn't make you one. You're nothing!"
Qin Yuechi's face paled to ash. "Rouge! Remember your place—you're a maid!"
"Oh, acting high and mighty now?" Rouge smirked, secure in her backing. "Save your breath. The Mistress anticipated your defiance." She snapped her fingers. "Guards! Escort Lady Yuechi to the hall. Don't keep Lady Zhao waiting."
BANG!
The door burst open. Two hulking guards marched in, eyes glinting as they closed in on Qin Yuechi. Though worn by hardship, her ethereal beauty still stirred forbidden desires.
"Come quietly, my lady," one guard leered, reaching to "assist" her with a meaty hand.
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"Touch her, and die."
Qin Chen snatched a sword from the wall. Steel hissed free as he stepped between his mother and the guards, blade raised. An invisible pressure thickened the air.
The guards froze. Though Qin Chen's frame hadn't changed, his gaze—cold as winter steel—pierced their bravado. Their throats dried; breath turned to lead.
What sorcery is this?
"Useless oafs!" Rouge screeched. "Let a whelp intimidate you? Remember who rules this house!"
Shame hardened the guards' resolve. One barked: "Step aside, bastard. We follow Lady Zhao's orders. Interfere, and we'll drag you too!"
Qin Chen's blade didn't waver. "Test me. See whose blood stains this floor."
He turned to Rouge, voice glacial: "As for you—keep barking, and I'll have you branded a whore, exiled to labor camps. A fitting end for a rabid cur."
Rouge blanched. If this escalated, Lady Zhao would sacrifice pawns like her without blinking.
"Who presumes to exile my people?"
A shrill voice sliced through the tension. Servants parted like reeds as a woman entered—robed in gold-stitched silk, jewels clattering with each step. Beside her waddled a bloated nobleman whose lust-glazed eyes devoured Qin Yuechi.
"M-Mistress!" Rouge dropped into a trembling curtsy.
Lady Zhao's gaze swept the room, settling on her cowering maid. "Incompetent. Is this how you enforce my will?"
"F-forgive this lowly one!"
"Later. You've embarrassed me enough."
Rouge scurried aside, shooting Qin Chen a venomous glare: Your reckoning comes, whelp.
Lady Zhao arched a brow at Qin Chen's drawn sword. "How… bold my nephew has grown. Threatening executions? One might mistake you for the Qin heir." Her laugh dripped venom. "Shall we discuss your theatrics before our honored guest?"