How Did the Female Lead in the Angst Novel Become My Ex-Wife’s Sister? - Chapter 17

The Shuxue Pavilion was a spectacle of flowing carriages and majestic horses, forcing their group to park the carriage at the rear corner gate.

The journey had been spent in silence between Cen Xianyue and Shen Zhao. Once the carriage stopped, Xianyue finally spoke, suggesting Shen Zhao enter the pavilion first while she went to find Pei Linlang and Cen Juexing. They parted ways there.

When Xianyue reached the Cen family carriage, the curtains were drawn tight, and all was quiet inside. She called out tentatively, “Linlang? Juexing?”

A moment later, with a loud waaah, Cen Juexing scrambled out of the carriage in a disheveled heap, diving straight into Xianyue’s arms the second her feet hit the ground.

“Waaaah, Sister, she bullied me…” Juexing sobbed, tears and snot flowing freely. Even as she wept, she peeked back to shoot Linlang a look that screamed: I’m going to make sure you have nowhere left to turn.

Jixiang quickly hopped out to support Juexing, her own eyes reddening on cue. She lamented how “Master Pei,” a grown man, could be so ruthless; just look at the scratches on her lady, her hair and clothes were a complete mess!

Linlang said nothing. She was the last to emerge, climbing down awkwardly and standing by the carriage. In the shadows of the night, her expression was hard to read, but her bitten lip and the defiant glint in her eyes spoke of a stubborn refusal to admit defeat.

Xianyue patted Juexing’s back, her gaze drifting toward the other girl. “Linlang?”

Linlang assumed a lecture was coming and bristled with indignation. “What if I did grab her? I’d do it again!”

But her hair was just as tangled, her clothes just as rumpled; she looked no better than Juexing.

Xianyue frowned slightly and released Juexing, walking toward Linlang instead.

“Sister—”

“You two go inside first,” Xianyue commanded.

Juexing stomped her foot in frustration but could only pull Jixiang along toward the crowded entrance. Crying for sympathy is a real skill, Juexing thought bitterly. Next time I need to be more calculating.

Left alone, Xianyue stood before Linlang. Linlang refused to meet her eyes, turning her face away sharply.

At this distance, Xianyue finally noticed the sheer grievance in Linlang’s expression. Her hair was a bird’s nest, her eyes were rimmed with red, and her “new” outfit, which wasn’t very new to begin with, now looked positively tattered.

Xianyue looked into her eyes. Those defiant pupils reminded her of a small, defeated animal that still refused to surrender. She gently cupped Linlang’s face, turning her back.

“What happened?” Xianyue asked softly.

“You saw it.”

“Did she hit you, or was it mutual?”

Xianyue’s voice was low, her breath warm against Linlang’s skin.

Linlang had grown up tough; she wasn’t the type to cry easily. She hadn’t cried when she was sick, and she hadn’t cried when she was being double-teamed by Juexing and her maid. But feeling that warmth now, her nose suddenly stung with an uncontrollable ache.

She found herself hating Xianyue a little bit in that moment. Her lips trembled and pouted against her will. Unable to hold it in, she angrily swatted Xianyue’s hand away and began rubbing her face frantically to hide the tears. “Any idiot can see I lost the fight! Why even ask!”

“That damn Cen Juexing, acting like the victim when she was the one who started it! If it wasn’t two-on-one, I would’ve scratched her face off!”

“Let me see.”

Xianyue reached for her face again. Linlang, feeling irrationally temperamental, swung her hand away and turned her back.

“Don’t look. Leave me alone.”

A moment passed, and she began to sniffle.

Another moment, and her shoulders began to shake.

Xianyue stood silently behind her, her shadow falling over Linlang like a warm bath. She placed her hands on Linlang’s upper arms and drew closer. “I’m sorry…”

Xianyue leaned toward her in a gesture that wanted to be a hug but maintained a sliver of respectful distance.

Linlang cried harder, even though she didn’t want to. “I hate it here…”

The night breeze blew past them, carrying the sounds of the festive firelight and voices from behind the great wall. The banquet was starting; Linlang knew she wasn’t a child and had to pull herself together.

She sobbed a few more times, and once she calmed down, Xianyue turned her around. Xianyue pulled a snow-white silk handkerchief from her sleeve and carefully dabbed away the tears. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “Juexing promised me she wouldn’t bully you anymore.”

Linlang felt a bit embarrassed. “Why are you apologizing, Sister? It’s my own fault for being useless and losing the fight. Don’t worry, I won’t let her off so easily next time!”

She looked down, avoiding Xianyue’s gaze, and muttered, “I’ve ruined your handkerchief.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Xianyue continued to meticulously tidy Linlang’s hair and clothes. Once finished, she held Linlang’s shoulders and met her blinking eyes.

“Should we… go in?” Linlang asked weakly.

“Yes.”

“…”

“Don’t tell Cen Juexing about… the crying. Or she’ll say I’m a tattletale and use it against me.”

“Sister?”

“Mm-hmm.”

*****

The plum grove in the rear courtyard of Shuxue Pavilion was even more magnificent than the day of the female lead’s homecoming. As Linlang and Xianyue walked through the main hall, they saw a garden full of distinguished guests. Lanterns of all sizes hung at varying heights, scattered among the silhouettes of the branches.

Maids moved like flowing water, carrying wine and delicacies into the grove. Musicians played zithers and lutes, and small square tables with seating for four were arranged along a narrow stream filled with floating plum petals.

Linlang let out a small “Wow.” “It’s not even a major holiday; the Eldest Princess really went all out.”

She remembered the book’s description of the Luofu Spring Feast being quite simple. If she had known it was this grand, she would have bought a better outfit. She looked down at her wrinkled, dull clothes and felt a sting of self-consciousness.

“You probably haven’t heard about what happened a few days ago,” Xianyue whispered, explaining the “miracle” involving the plum blossoms. Usually, the feast was only for regular guests of the pavilion, but this year was special because of the auspicious omen.

Despite the occasion, Linlang noticed that while there were men present, most were young—around Shen Zhao’s age.

A sudden realization hit her. “Does this mean… the Emperor might attend?” If the Emperor showed up, she really had to stay sharp. If the female lead suffered a public embarrassment in front of the sovereign, the “social death” would be unbearable.

“I don’t know,” Xianyue replied.

The two made their way to join Shen Zhao and Cen Juexing. They were assigned to one square table, though no one was sitting yet. Shen Zhao was busy talking to colleagues, looking as expressionless as if she were at the office. Juexing was with her group of friends; seeing Xianyue, she waved but didn’t forget to glare at Linlang.

Xianyue briefly introduced one of Juexing’s friends, Xiao Wanqing, the daughter of the Minister of Rites.

Linlang didn’t care who she was. Afraid Xianyue would go find Shen Zhao, she kept peppering her with questions about the guests. Xianyue answered them all patiently; having attended several banquets with the Princess before her marriage, she recognized many faces.

Linlang decided to test her. She pointed to a woman in a far corner who looked entirely out of place in such an elegant setting. Cloaked in shadow, only a silhouette was visible, but the woman and her maid seemed to be looking back at them.

“What about her? Do you know her, Sister?”

“She is…” Xianyue fell into thought.

Linlang felt triumphant. Of course you don’t know her. That’s the female general who just returned to the capital, Shen Zhao’s true love. No matter how good your memory is, you’ve never met her.

“She does look very unfamiliar,” Xianyue said with a composed smile. “But judging by her bearing, that should be the lady of the Liang family, the only female general in the capital.”

Linlang’s eyes widened. “Wow! Sister, you have an amazing eye!”

In her excitement to keep Xianyue’s attention, Linlang didn’t notice a maid approaching from behind until a sharp “Miss Cen” made her jump.

The maid looked stern and spoke with a cold edge, quite unlike the typical servant of a noble lady. She was likely the attendant of the female general, the one who loathed Xianyue for “stealing” the marriage intended for her mistress.

“Miss Cen, my mistress invites you for a chat.”

Huh? What plot twist is this? Linlang looked toward Shen Zhao. Is the backyard about to catch fire already?

Actually, this might be good. The book mentioned a maid framing Xianyue at the feast out of jealousy for Shen Zhao. If Xianyue was with the General, surely no one would dare pull anything.

Linlang nodded eagerly. “Go, go! I want to see what a female general is like too!”

Xianyue started to speak, but the maid interrupted: “I’m sorry, my mistress only invited Miss Cen.”

“Oh… I see.”

“I’ll be right back. Linlang, wait for me here.”

Linlang was startled by Xianyue’s serious tone. “Okay, okay. I’ll stay here. Come back quickly, Sister.”

Once Xianyue left, Linlang was bored out of her mind. She sat down at the table, but the stool was so low she ended up cross-legged. Despite trying to look dignified, she still drew stares.

“Sitting like a pile of mud, with no grace at all. Is this really a guest of the Princess?” remarked Li Jue, the Assistant Minister of the Court of Judicial Review. He looked at his colleague, Shen Zhao. “Brother Shen, I saw him standing with your wife earlier, looking quite intimate. Could it be that he is…”

Suddenly, the sounds of laughter and music were interrupted by a sharp, rhythmic clinking—the sound of porcelain hitting the ground.

A servant girl, trembling like a leaf in the wind, fell to her knees right in the center of the path leading toward the imperial seats. Beside her lay a shattered wine jar, the crimson liquid seeping into the snow like a fresh wound.

“Forgive me! Your Majesty, Princess, please forgive me!” the girl wailed, her forehead hitting the frozen ground with a dull thud.

The Eldest Princess’s face darkened instantly. “Clumsy thing! To spill the ‘Spring Breath’ wine on such an auspicious night… Guards, take her—”

“Wait,” a cold, calm voice cut through the air.

It was Shen Zhao. She had stood up, her gaze fixed not on the servant, but on the spilled wine. She walked forward, her official robes sweeping against the snow, and knelt before the Emperor.

“Your Majesty, this servant’s blunder is a small matter, but the wine she spilled… it carries a scent that does not belong to the palace cellars.” Shen Zhao lowered her head, her voice resonating with a chilling authority. “I suspect someone has tampered with the Imperial offerings to frame the Shuxue Pavilion.”

Pei Linlang’s heart skipped a beat. The framing plot! In the original book, this was the moment where Xianyue was supposed to be implicated because the wine was traced back to her family’s specialty—a gift she had supposedly brought.

Linlang gripped Xianyue’s hand, her palms sweating despite the cold. She looked toward the Emperor, then back at the “Female General” Liang, who remained standing in the shadows, her expression unreadable.

“Speak,” the Emperor commanded, his voice heavy with the weight of the throne.

“The scent is that of Seven-Day Frost,” Shen Zhao continued, her tone devoid of emotion. “A poison that mimics the symptoms of a winter chill. If ingested, it would look like a natural death. And the only person who brought a jar of this specific brew to the feast today…”

She slowly turned her head. Her eyes didn’t land on Xianyue, as Linlang had feared. Instead, her finger pointed directly at the square table where Linlang and Juexing were sitting.

“…was the ‘young master’ of the Pei family, Pei Linlang.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Every eye in the plum grove, from the Emperor to the lowliest maid, turned toward Linlang.

Linlang felt the blood drain from her face. Wait, what? I’m the scapegoat now?

Beside her, Cen Juexing let out a small gasp and instinctively scooted away, leaving Linlang isolated in the center of everyone’s scrutiny. But Xianyue didn’t let go. If anything, her grip on Linlang’s hand tightened until it was almost painful.

“Nonsense!” Xianyue’s voice rang out, surprisingly steady and sharp. She stood up, pulling Linlang with her. “My brother has been ill for days. He hasn’t even had the strength to carry a wine jar, let alone poison one. If there is poison, it was planted.”

Shen Zhao’s eyes flickered with a strange, dark amusement. “Then perhaps we should let the Imperial Physician examine the ‘Young Master’ to see just how ‘ill’ he truly is. Or perhaps… we should examine why a young man has the hands of a woman?”

The air in the grove turned to ice. Shen Zhao wasn’t just aiming for a poisoning charge; she was going for the kill—revealing the fraud of Linlang’s identity in front of the Emperor.

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