Chapter 32 Protecting Her
Facing such a display of fatherly love and filial piety, Wen Xueling suddenly let out a soft laugh, drawing everyone’s attention.
Her heart was as solid as a rock, her thoughts clear and calm. She countered, “Since you are so certain that ink is not Qintian Ink, what evidence do you have?”
“If someone can confirm that the ink is indeed Qintian Ink, then it means the courtyard that was blown up was Wen Jin’An's Mingzhu Courtyard, not the unlucky Zheliu Courtyard, which was not due to human action......Is that right, my dear father?”
Her voice trailed off, imbued with a chilling clarity that seemed to see through people.
Wen Jingshu, however, remained calm as usual, certain that no one in the world could confirm it. He avoided the question, looking towards the Emperor on the dragon throne, and bowed his head, “This matter, I beg Your Majesty to grant justice to this subject's daughter......”
He paused for a moment, then added, “…...to Jin’An.”
The Emperor was also very curious about Wen Xueling’s method. The method of making Qintian Ink had been lost for a hundred years. How could a child of barely ten years know such a secret formula?
“Wen Xueling, if you can prove that ink is Qintian Ink, I will believe your words.”
“…...How can you prove it?”
Wen Xueling slowly curled a faint smile, then turned her eyes to the screen, her voice melodious, “There is one person in the world who can prove what this subject says is true, and also knows the authenticity of Qintian Ink.”
The Crown Prince blurted out, “Who?”
Wen Xueling spoke each word slowly, her gaze fixed intently on the screen.
She slowly said, “…...His Excellency, the Imperial Preceptor.”
Behind the screen.
Wenren Yi slowly opened his eyes. His features were handsome and refined, his expression solemn, like an exiled immortal who didn't partake in worldly affairs.
At this moment, his deep, ocean-like black eyes sparked with a hint of interest at her words.
The screen in front of him was moved aside.
Their eyes met. Wen Xueling saw the silver mask on his face, and her mind buzzed, leaving her momentarily stunned.
All sound in heaven and earth suddenly vanished.
He......
That masked man......
Overwhelming emotions assailed her previously calm thoughts. She quickly lowered her head to hide her surprise, secretly warning herself that this was not the time to be surprised by the masked man’s identity.
If she didn’t handle this matter properly today, she would end up like her previous life......
A dead end!
Wenren Yi’s gaze on her small face also carried a hint of scrutiny. Even with the mask covering his face, it couldn't hide the awe-inspiring grace that emanated from him.
When the Emperor asked if he could determine the authenticity of the ‘Qintian Ink,’ his gaze briefly swept over Wen Jingshu and the other two.
Wen Xueling’s heart also tightened.
It was only in her previous life, in Slave City, that she heard a sweeping maid say that the Imperial Preceptor had visited Fengshan Mountain three times for a piece of Qintian Ink, finally obtaining a small piece, which he cherished and polished daily.
Her words just now were half a gamble.
A cold sweat faintly formed on her back. She secretly prayed in her heart......
“Hmm, I know a little.” His cool, thin voice was like winter wind and snow, yet it ignited a faint glimmer in Wen Xueling’s heart.
The fleeting joy in her eyes was fully observed by Wenren Yi.
He sat upright in his chair, his fair, jade-like fingers tapping gently three times on the armrest, thoughtfully observing the expression on her face.
The Crown Prince’s attendant had already retrieved the remaining ink from the East Palace study and respectfully presented it to the Emperor.
After the Emperor examined it, it was then sent to the Imperial Preceptor for his evaluation.
The brightly lit Imperial Study.
His distinct, slender, and fair fingers delicately picked up the half-remaining inkstone in front of him. The contrast of black and white held everyone’s breath in anticipation.
Wen Jinli’s face also showed hesitation. If this ink was truly Qintian Ink, it would undoubtedly be a rare treasure.
But then he thought, Wen Xueling grew up in the countryside, never studied under a master, and had no other talents. How could she create such a priceless treasure?
Fake!
This ink definitely wasn’t Qintian Ink!
The expressions of everyone in the hall fell one by one into Wenren Yi’s eyes. His expression was indifferent as he lowered his gaze and meticulously examined the ink in his hand.
More intriguing than the unique pine fragrance was the exquisite and intricate carving on the inkstone.
After a long moment.
Wenren Yi placed the ink back onto the jade tray in front of him, his expression aloof, “Indeed......”
Everyone’s hearts rose in their throats.
Among them, Wen Jinli and Wen Jin’An were the most nervous, their eyes fixed intently on the Imperial Preceptor, hoping he would utter the desired answer.
“…...It is Qintian Ink.”
In Rong Kingdom, the Imperial Preceptor held power second only to the Emperor and was not required to kneel before him.
He was truly one person below, and ten thousand above.
Even Wen Jingshu, who held the rank of Prime Minister, had to respectfully bow to Wenren Yi.
Wen Xueling knelt before the hall, glancing past her scoundrel father and foolish brother, and met Wenren Yi’s calm, unruffled eyes, which were as pure as the moon, untainted by even a speck of dust.
He had an aura that made people unconsciously relax their guard.
She didn't dare to look too long and quickly lowered her gaze.
Wen Jinli’s eyes widened in disbelief, and he murmured, “How could this be......”
Hearing Wenren Yi’s words, Wen Jin’An nervously shrank her neck and asked tearfully, “Father, Fourth Brother, is Jin’An going to die?”
“No!” Wen Jinli blurted out.
His face darkened. Even if that ink was real, so what? Did Jin’An’s life have to pay for it?
Her scoundrel father remained silent, but his mind was frantically trying to come up with a solution.
If he had to choose one of his two daughters to die, he would naturally choose Wen Xueling. After all, Jin’An was the child of him and his beloved.
Hearing their seemingly quiet conversation, a strong surge of killing intent erupted from the depths of Wen Xueling’s lowered eyelids.
Who lives and who dies, the victor decides!
With Wenren Yi’s affirmative words, it was now her time to shine.
She raised her head again, ignoring the tears that welled in the corners of her eyes, and gave three resounding kowtows to the Emperor.
One after another.
Each one felt like a death knell tolling for Wen Jin’An.
Unlike Wen Jin’An’s tearful fragility, even when she cried, she possessed an air of unwavering dignity and perseverance.
“I beg Your Majesty to preside over this matter for this subject.”
If not for the seven years of nightmares in Slave City in her previous life, Wen Xueling would have disdained to use her stepsister's tricks.
But those inescapable seven years, eating coarse food, the searing slave mark, disfigurement, broken legs, loss of purity......she had endured every kind of suffering.
She knew deeply that to survive, one must strike first.
She deliberately mimicked Wen Jin’An’s manipulative words, saying, “Yes, this subject is clumsy with words, not as eloquent as Wen Jin’An, and certainly doesn’t have her persuasive speaking skills that can make Father happy.”
“But in this subject’s heart, for fifteen years, night after night, praying for Father’s well-being before the gods, the feeling is the same.”
Her scoundrel father’s expression flickered. He thought she was about to accuse him, but then she suddenly uttered these words, and the words he had organized got stuck in his throat.
“Heaven’s boundless grace granted this subject the opportunity to return to Father’s side. This subject is immensely joyful and also knows her place.”
“This subject grew up in a small border town in the northern region, without Father’s guidance. My words and actions may be a bit unrestrained, not comparable to a daughter who grew up by Father’s side.”
“But this subject will practice. If daytime isn’t enough, I’ll continue at night. If night still isn’t enough, I’ll continue the next day, thinking that one day, I could make Father smile because of me, but who knew…..."
Wen Xueling showed a bitter smile at this point. The surge of lifelessness that emanated from her even moved the Crown Prince by a third.
The Emperor also recalled her respectful demeanor when she knelt earlier, which was even more proper than that of the capital’s noble ladies.
She bit her pale lips, “Ling’er understands in her heart that no matter how hard I try, I cannot compare to her position in Father’s heart.”
“But Father......Ling’er’s life is also a life!”
Wen Xueling’s sorrowful cry, like a cuckoo’s lament, deeply pierced everyone’s hearts.
Except for Wen Jin’An.
The situation was now in a dilemma.
Both sides presented their arguments, yet Wen Jingshu and Wen Jinli stood firmly on Wen Jin’An’s side, making it difficult for the Emperor as well.
After Wen Jingshu realized the situation, he felt his prospects dim. Without hesitation, he brushed aside the hint of guilt that had surfaced in his heart and coldly ignored her lamentations.
“Your Majesty, this woman is extremely skilled at pretense. She often bullies her sister in the residence.”
He began by asserting that even if the ink was proven to be Qintian Ink, it didn’t mean the bombed courtyard was Mingzhu Courtyard, determined to protect Wen Jin’An.
“I implore Your Majesty to see clearly. Jin’An would never be an evil spirit reincarnated.”
Wen Jinli parted his lips, wanting to say a few words for his own sister.
But seeing his stepsister’s frightened, tearful eyes, he hesitated for a moment, then decided to swallow those words.
Wen Jin’An, seizing the moment when no one was looking, secretly smirked.
What use was all her crying and talking? She didn’t need to say anything; there were people to protect her and shield her from the storm.
She wanted to see despair in Wen Xueling’s eyes, but then noticed her looking at the Imperial Preceptor. Could this woman actually be hoping the Imperial Preceptor would save her?
Wenren Yi idly lifted his gaze, his deep black eyes like the majestic, continuous snow mountains, devoid of human warmth.
Wen Xueling’s face was calm. Even as her scoundrel father’s words turned into sharp knives aimed at her, her expression remained serene.
The one orchestrating the game cannot panic.
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