I'm taking Yuan Xi's things
Yan Zhen hauled Yuan Ya’er into the center of the Yuan family living room with an uncompromising force. The sight of the two of them—one dragged, one dragging—stilled the household. Mr. Yuan stopped pouring his tea mid-stream, set the kettle down, and rose from the sofa. His voice was heavy with accusation.
“What’s going on? Weren’t you supposed to be making a formal visit back to the family? Why are you acting like this—are you fighting?”
Mrs. Yuan hurried forward, eyes blazing. “Yan Zhen, what are you doing? How dare you treat our Ya-ya like this!”
Yan Zhen shoved Yuan Ya’er forward a step and announced, “We just went through the divorce procedures. Yuan Ya’er has left with nothing.”
Before he’d even finished, Mrs. Yuan’s sharp cry cut into his ear.
“What did you say? Divorce? Yan Zhen, do you have any conscience? Ya-ya just married you two days ago and now you’re divorcing her? What could possibly have happened to make you do this? Is this because of that online rumor saying Yuan Xi’s photos from four years ago were photoshopped?”
She wouldn’t even let him answer, plunging into a torrent of words.
“We all know what happened four years ago. Yuan Xi made a terrible mistake—she slept with another man and was found out, that’s as plain as day. Now someone’s trying to cover it up, and you’re backing out? No way. I won’t allow this marriage to be dissolved. Even if you divorce her, you’ll have to compensate the Yuan family for our losses!”
Yuan Ya’er broke down in tears as her mother spoke—small, wrenching sobs full of hurt.
Mr. Yuan slammed his hand on the table. “Truth is truth. You can’t twist it by saying a few things. And you were the one who decided to call off the engagement with Yuan Xi back then. Now you marry Ya’er and you renege, insisting she leave empty-handed? Is this the kind of successor the Yan family raises? Is this how you treat long-standing allies?”
Their reaction confirmed what Yan Zhen had suspected all along. The biggest obstacle to dealing with Yuan Ya’er was the Yuan family. If he’d wanted to eliminate the threat cleanly, he could have called the police and had her arrested. But he hadn’t. He wanted Ya’er to confess—out loud, in front of her parents—that she had framed Yuan Xi. He wanted her to name the truth and then watch how far the Yuan family would go to defend the daughter they’d raised as their own.
“Truth?” he snorted. “You’ll find out what the truth really is.”
He turned to the sobbing girl, his voice turning cruel. “Yuan Ya’er, we’ve come this far—do you really think you can get away with it? Say it. Tell them what you did. Didn't you promise me this morning? Trying to back out now?”
Mr. and Mrs. Yuan both froze, exchanging baffled looks. What was he asking her to say?
Mrs. Yuan glanced toward her tear-streaked daughter. “Ya-ya, what does he want you to say?”
Yuan Ya’er clenched her teeth and lowered her head. Her voice was low, hollow with resignation. “Father, Mother... I have to confess something to you.”
“For four years ago—because I was jealous that Sister Xi took my place as the Yuan family’s daughter and because I was jealous she had Yan Zhen as her boyfriend—I worked with Ji Xinyue to frame her and make her lose her innocence...”
The words came out like something she’d been swallowing for years. As she spoke, Mrs. Yuan slowly loosened her grip and stepped back, her face a frozen mask of shock. Mr. Yuan was so stunned he knocked over the teapot.
“You’re saying… all of this was done by you and that family of Ji’s?” Mrs. Yuan demanded, voice cracking.
Yan Zhen supplied the rest with surgical coldness. “Not only that. My uncle dug into the case and found evidence that the Ji family had stoked the situation from behind the scenes. When Yuan Ya’er feared my uncle would expose her, she hired someone to stage a car accident and tried to kill him. And yesterday she murdered Ji Xinyue.”
Murder? Hired hitmen?
Mrs. Yuan screamed, a raw, terrified sound, and collapsed backward. Mr. Yuan lunged, catching her as she fell, his hand pressed to her chest. He stared at Yan Zhen like a man seeing a ghost. “Yan Zhen—this is true? All of it?”
Yan Zhen said, cool as ever, “I have video proof. If you want to see it, I’ll show you. But once you see how she killed Ji Xinyue, you may be sick to your stomach.”
Mrs. Yuan, who’d only recently recovered from an illness, went white again. Yuan Ya’er wailed, “Stop! Please stop. I admit I was wrong. I’ll divorce him. I’ll kneel and beg Grandfather Yan for forgiveness. I’ll tell you I set up Yuan Xi. I’ll do all of it. Don’t—don’t make my mother suffer!”
Her mother’s body was fragile these past years; the prospect of such a shock was enough to tip her into a seizure. Father and daughter flurried to comfort her, pressing a cloth to her forehead, murmuring reassurances. For a moment nobody pursued Yan Zhen’s accusations further.
Watching the family wrap themselves around their erring daughter like a cocoon of self-delusion, Yan Zhen’s contempt for them—and his anger for Yuan Xi—only deepened. Then, abruptly, he asked, “Mr. Yuan, are there any of Yuan Xi’s things left here? I want to take them with me.”
Mr. Yuan paused, casting Yan Zhen a long, sharp look. Then he released his wife’s arms and stood. “Come with me.”
He led the way down the hallway. Once Mrs. Yuan recovered enough to look up, she saw Yuan Ya’er nearby and, acting on instinct, shoved her away—then, as the girl hit the floor, she flinched, guilty and horrified. Yuan Ya’er scrambled up and dropped to her knees in front of her mother, sobbing.
“Mom, I know I was wrong. I shouldn’t have set up Sister Xi. I shouldn’t have killed. But... I had no choice.”
“I loved him so much. From the moment I came back to the Yuan house and saw him, I loved him. He was engaged to Sister Xi, and I told myself to let it go, to like someone else, but I couldn’t. Especially thinking—the Yuan family’s heiress should be me. The marriage that should have linked our families should have been mine. I couldn’t control myself...”
Mrs. Yuan had been wary of the daughter she’d lost and found; hearing that last confession, the old, aching guilt flooded her. She stepped forward, gathered Yuan Ya’er into her arms, and burst into tears.
“I’m sorry—it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t been so foolish back then, you wouldn’t have suffered outside for so many years. Those things... they were always yours. You only wanted what was yours back. What did you do wrong?”
As she hugged her, her hand brushed the bruises and cuts on Ya’er’s arms—marks Yan Zhen had left. Ya’er let out an involuntary gasp. “Ah... it hurts.”
Mrs. Yuan recoiled as if struck. “How could he beat you? How dare he—how could he be so cruel!”
Her anger shook her, making her seem on the verge of another collapse. Yuan Ya’er hastened to calm her. “Mom, don’t be angry... calm down. Yan Zhen hit me, yes, but I did wrong first. Back at the Xu family, when I made mistakes, Xu Father would beat me with a bamboo stick. If you make mistakes, you get punished—I knew that.”
Mrs. Yuan tightened her embrace until she was crying in earnest. “My Ya-ya... you’ve suffered so. Girls must be cherished, punished with education—not beaten like that!” she sobbed.
Yuan Ya’er rested her head against her mother’s shoulder, voice small and resigned. “No, Mom. I did wrong, and I’ll take responsibility. We came back to confess and then to accept whatever the police decide. I’m sorry—I won’t be able to stay with you for a while. You have to take care of yourself.”