chapter 2

chapter 2

Mocking people was wrong. Mocking authors brought especially swift retribution.

I soon discovered that no one deserved ridicule. Becoming a successful mistress required genuine ability.

Mother demonstrated her techniques for three days before I begged her to stop. She was so skilled that even I nearly wanted to marry her and grow old together.

After suppressing that terrifying impulse, I said, “That’s enough, Mom. I still want to study.”

She lowered her head. “Go. What I know will only make people despise you.”

That was not quite what I meant. Any mastered technique was a skill, including winning a man’s heart. Used in romance or marriage, hers could be wonderful. Used to seduce someone else’s husband, they made me uncomfortable.

Yet she was my mother. A mistress mother was still a mother.

I forced down my disgust and comforted her. “These skills are better kept at home. Outside, I need solid abilities that earn money and let us live with dignity. Father won’t support us forever. When you grow old or can no longer charm him, you’ll need me. I don’t want your path. I want to support us both with my own earnings.”

Tears streamed down her face. As I wiped them away, she instinctively nestled into my arms, treating me like Father.

Unfortunately, her tricks worked on me too.

I returned to school. Father had not appeared once since my suicide attempt. Mother said Grandfather had locked him up because the Qi family demanded either cancellation or a new engagement to Bai Zhuo. Father refused, Grandfather beat him, and he still would not yield.

Grandfather despised Mother and his seemingly obedient but dull illegitimate granddaughter. He did not consider the canceled engagement an injury, while Father had defended me.

I felt no gratitude. Mother insisted Father loved me and had no flaw except lust. Only she could call adultery his sole flaw.

Mrs. Bai was Grandfather’s comrade’s daughter, and Grandfather had forced Father to marry her. Mother called him pitiable. I disagreed. Grandfather might command a marriage, but he could hardly force Father into both women’s beds.

Bai Zhuo and I were born one day apart. Father slept with his wife and then his lover. He was no victim.

While combing my hair, Mother warned, “Neither of us earns money. We depend on him. You must never show him resentment.”

That raised a practical question. “Have you saved anything?”

She laughed. “Of course. I grew up poor. Even if he never returns, we have enough for life.”

I also reminded her that Mrs. Bai could reclaim marital assets if she divorced him.

Mother laughed harder. “Your mother isn’t stupid. No one can take the money back.”

Relieved, I went to school.