Chapter 8: It Seems No One Can Be Trusted
From a young age, Mingting Song never fell for Shilan Song’s tricks. He cast a sidelong glance at her, eyes dripping with mockery. “Shilan Song, stop playing your little games and hiding your true intentions. Who do you think doesn’t know what kind of person you are?”
“It’s only because Father is kind-hearted. If it were me, I would have dealt with you long ago.”
Shilan felt a chill run down her neck, as if her head might separate from her body at any moment. Instinctively, she touched her neck, swallowed hard, her face paling. “Second Brother, you must be joking.”
Her heart burned with hatred. That damned Mingting Song dared to speak to her this way. Once she was free, she vowed to make him pay.
Suddenly, Mingting stepped closer, his gaze dark and menacing. “Shilan Song, I’m not joking. Remember how you and Aunt Qin schemed to end my life? Now that we're on this exile journey, I intend to repay you both accordingly.”
Shilan trembled, nearly breaking into a run. “Second Brother, we’re family.”
He gripped her jaw with one hand, his voice thick with disdain. “Family? Do you and Aunt Qin consider us siblings family?”
He shoved her away. “Shilan Song, the road ahead is long. Make sure you survive it.”
She regretted not having dealt with Mingting sooner—she should never have spared his life out of kindness.
“Second Brother, if Father knew how you were acting, he would be angry.”
Mingting chuckled bitterly. “Do you think Father would scold me, his sensible son, because of a selfish, ruthless daughter like you?”
All his life, he might have caused trouble outside, but he never harmed family. Shilan, however, had only ever dealt harm to her own.
Even now, she didn’t believe she was wrong. To become the legitimate daughter and win the family’s exclusive favor, she had to act this way.
“Second Brother, I know you misunderstand me,” she sobbed pitifully, playing the victim. “I can explain.”
Mingting’s eyes were dripping with irony. He said nothing more.
Her tears dried up.
“Second Young Master,” Aunt Qin finally spoke, “we’re on this exile journey together. We should stay united, shouldn’t we?”
Mingting let out a cold snort. “Aunt Qin, you yourself said it—we’re on an exile journey. There’s no scapegoat to save you and Shilan now.”
The mother and daughter were experts at scapegoating and shirking responsibility—once protected by the matriarch, then by various servants as fall guys.
That one sentence silenced Aunt Qin.
She knew better than anyone that her status as a concubine and her temporary equality with the madam owed everything to the matriarch’s favor.
The matriarch favored her niece, wanting to keep the Qin and Song families tightly bound and prevent the Song family’s power from falling into outsiders’ hands.
To the matriarch, anyone without Qin blood was an outsider.
Seeing her falter like that, Mingting felt a surge of satisfaction.
Elsewhere, Father Song knelt before Captain Zhang, smiling kindly. “Captain, we’re like locusts on the same string, aren’t we?”
Zhang winced in pain, sweat breaking out on his skin, vision darkening. “You… it’s you!”
Strange words, but Father Song nodded. “Captain, I have no choice. After what happened last night, who can be sure there aren’t traitors among the remaining constables?”
“I can’t take that risk—I have my family to protect.”
Zhang’s words weren’t born of hatred, but he was furious.
He bore no ill will toward the Song family, only wishing to complete his duty and return alive.
“Does Lord Song not fear a mutiny among the constables?”
Father Song remained calm. “Anyone who betrays us will find only death.”
“Who wants to die?”
Zhang was speechless—no one did.
Father Song smiled at his suffering. “I have only two requests: one, sometimes turn a blind eye; two, we keep the peace on this journey.”
He added, “Don’t think that if our family dies or is sent to the northwest, you will survive.”
Zhang looked up sharply, disbelief in his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what I said.”
“Just as you said last night, the dead keep the tightest lips.”
Zhang said nothing.
As Lord Song said, the dead never betray secrets.
Unfazed by Zhang’s attitude, Father Song said, “Captain, cooperate with me, and I’ll guarantee your lives.”
He pulled a bottle of medicine from his sleeve and placed it on the ground. “This will ease the pain for now.”
“Think it over and give me your answer.”
One must not push too hard.
Too much pressure would backfire.
After Father Song left, Zhang took a pill from the bottle and handed it to the other constables.
Indeed, no wonder he was once a prime minister—his tactics and mind were superb.
Once Zhang and the others recovered, they resumed their journey.
Zhang remained silent, pondering whether to cooperate with Lord Song.
He knew it was risky—but also an opportunity.
“Captain, what’s troubling you?” a slightly plump constable whispered.
Zhang pushed him away impatiently. “I’m worried about my family.”
“This mission is dangerous.”
He wasn’t foolish enough to tell the truth.
The plump constable nodded solemnly. “Yeah, no kidding.”
“I thought it would be a routine escort, just a tough journey. Who knew…”
Even if they had forewarning, constables like them could not avoid the threat.
Zhang patted his shoulder and sighed. “Right now, I just hope my family is safe and not being used against me.”
“Unlikely, right?”
Zhang shook his head, silent. This man didn’t yet understand the upper echelons.
To those above, people like them were barely human—just pawns to be trampled.
“Captain, should we try to send a message back?”
“We’re not too far. If we think hard, maybe we can.”
Zhang glanced at him sharply and shook his head. “Send a message back to let them know we’ve dealt with a traitor?”
The plump constable fell silent.
Zhang sighed again. Given the circumstances, cooperating with Lord Song was the best option.
Suddenly, the plump constable said, “Captain, what we just experienced—is that the work of the Song family?”