Chapter 7 - The Desperate Plea
It was raining heavily on the fifth night after the court decree was issued.
Outside the grand iron gates of the Wei Estate, a solitary figure stood soaked to the bone, shivering violently against the howling wind.
It was Qui Song.
He had abandoned his pride. He had abandoned his scholar's dignity. He stood at my gates for three hours, banging his fists against the reinforced oak doors until his knuckles were raw and bleeding.
"Ling!" he cried, his voice hoarse and broken against the sound of falling rain. "Ling, please! Open the door! Let me see you!"
The side door finally creaked open. Xiaoi stepped out, holding a large oil-paper umbrella over her head, accompanied by two tall guards carrying long iron staffs.
Qui Song fell to his knees in the mud, grabbing the hem of Xiaoi's dry cloak. "Xiaoi! Please! Tell your mistress I am here! Tell her I realized my mistake! I will send Dong Lani away! I will throw her out tonight! Just ask Ling to take us back!"
Xiaoi looked down at her former master with an expression of pure, unbothered detachment.
"Lady Wei is currently enjoying her evening tea, Master Qui," Xiaoi said smoothly. "She has no interest in seeing you."
"Tell her the children are crying for her!" Qui Song begged, tears mixing with the rain pouring down his face. "Yuan and Mei miss their mother! They haven't had a proper meal in days! She can't be so heartless as to abandon her own flesh and blood!"
Xiaoi smiled—a cold, sharp smile.
"When Master Qui brought Miss Dong into the house, my mistress offered her children their inheritance certificates to secure their futures abroad," Xiaoi reminded him quietly. "Master Yuan said he didn't need them because his father would give him better ones. And Miss Mei called her mother 'evil' for retrieving her grandmother's memory."
Qui Song choked on his own breath, unable to offer a single word of defense.
"Lady Wei asked me to give you one final message," Xiaoi continued, pulling a small wooden box from her sleeve and setting it down in the mud in front of him.
Qui Song opened the box with trembling hands. Inside lay his original wedding token—a cheap, carved wooden pendant he had given to me seven years ago when he was a poor student.
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"Lady Wei says," Xiaoi delivered the final blow, "that she is returning the only thing in that marriage that actually belonged to you. You may keep your wooden trinket, Master Qui. The Wei family takes back the rest."
The heavy gates slammed shut, locking Qui Song out in the cold, dark rain.
