Chapter 10: Yes, You Should Devote Yourself to That Two-Faced Mother of Yours

The old woman shot Chu Mu a glare, her tone thick with annoyance.

“Is the madam pretending to be foolish? You spend more than half the year on your knees here—if no one else knows the ancestral hall of the Chu family, surely you do?” she sneered.

With a rough shove, she kicked open the door and pushed Chu Mu inside, slamming it shut behind him.

From outside, her voice echoed, “The General and the Old Madam have given strict orders: unless you kneel for three days and nights, you’re not allowed to get up. During this time, I’ll make sure you don’t starve, but you must accept your punishment sincerely. I’ll come by to check on you at random times. If I find you disobeying or pretending, I’ll report everything to the General and the Old Madam. Then you’ll suffer even more.”

With that, Chu Mu heard her humming a tune as her footsteps faded into the distance.

As soon as the door closed, the small room was plunged into darkness—not the kind where you can’t see your hand in front of your face, but dim enough to make out only the outlines. There were no windows, and the close walls lent the space a cold, damp, and eerie air.

Apart from a simple altar in the center with an anonymous memorial tablet, there was nothing else. Chu Mu looked at the bare floor—there wasn’t even a mat. Did they expect him to kneel directly on the hard boards?

And as the old woman had said, he spent more than half the year punished on his knees in this very hall. How had he endured those days? When had this small ancestral hall even been added to the estate, and why had he never known about it?

And who was this nameless spirit being honored here?

As time passed, a chill seeped into Chu Mu’s legs and feet. He didn’t kneel but stood instead; had he truly knelt, his limbs would have long since grown numb from the cold. Rubbing his arms, Chu Mu paced the cramped hall.

“Did you always endure your punishments here? Why did you never tell me?” he murmured under his breath.

Suddenly, the door swung open from outside.

A voice called out, “Never told you… That’s quite the phrase, isn’t it?”

It was Shen Zhao who entered, her tone mocking as she replied.

“Tell me, General—have you ever really listened to anything I’ve said, ever believed me? What difference would it make if I had spoken or not?” Shen Zhao untied her cloak and draped it over Chu Mu’s shoulders.

A flicker of surprise crossed Chu Mu’s eyes—she still cared for him, didn’t she?

Reading the emotion in his gaze, Shen Zhao rolled her eyes. “Don’t misunderstand. I just don’t want you to wear out my body.”

“So, General, how did you find this morning? Hmm?”

Suddenly, Chu Mu grasped Shen Zhao’s hand, speaking rare words of softness, “I’m sorry, Ah Zhao. I’ve wronged you.”

Her heart clenched at his words. Before their marriage, he had always called her Ah Zhao. How many years had it been since she’d heard her name from his lips? And it was rare, indeed, to hear him apologize.

“But Ah Zhao, Mother didn’t treat you like this on purpose—she’s just been misled by scheming servants. Don’t worry, while our souls are exchanged, I’ll make sure Mother changes her opinion of you…”

Shen Zhao’s face darkened at once. So, all the suffering she’d endured that morning had been for nothing; her momentary softening was wasted.

With a sharp slap, she knocked away Chu Mu’s hand. When she saw her own fair hand, now red and swollen, her heart ached. She was angry at Chu Mu, which made her lash out, but she’d meant to strike him—not herself. Gritting her teeth, she raised her hand and slapped her own cheek mercilessly.

That evened the score in her heart, though the pain was real, causing her to bare her teeth in a grimace.

“You blockhead, you blind fool,” she muttered, then addressed Chu Mu, “Well then, General, be a good son and try to please your mother, let her change her opinion of you. Come with me—we’ll have breakfast.”

There was no point in saying more. Only by letting Chu Mu truly experience the life she lived, letting him see firsthand his mother’s two-faced nature, could he truly grasp the reality of these demons and monsters in the household. This would take time; she was in no hurry.

After all, it was Chu Mu suffering now—she was content to watch. And with his identity, she could plan for her father and brothers’ benefit—why not?

Chu Mu sighed. Ah Zhao’s resentment toward his mother ran deep; he was determined to change their opinions of each other. He hesitated a moment, then asked, “How did you know I haven’t eaten yet? And do you know who the memorial tablet in this hall belongs to?”

Shen Zhao, leaning against the doorframe, cast him a glance.

Wrapped in a cloak far too large, the deep brown fabric enveloped him completely. She herself was not small—indeed, taller than most women. Her features, once bold and striking, now seemed dulled by hardship. Looking at herself through Chu Mu’s eyes, she saw how life had worn away her edges.

Her once exquisite face was no longer bright and lively, but shadowed with melancholy and despair. Disheveled hair, pale skin, and those clear but foolishly innocent eyes—she was the very image of an abused, delicate flower.

This was not her—should never have been her. Irritated, she replied, “Because I’ve never had a hot breakfast here, not once. If I told you that, as the wife of the Grand General, I often went hungry, you wouldn’t believe me—especially since I’m in charge of all the household affairs. Isn’t it laughable?

As for who’s being honored in this hall, I don’t know. But there’s one thing I’m certain of: this person had a grudge with your mother, because she hates them bitterly. That nameless tablet has been replaced three times, always smashed by your pious mother herself. Now, let’s go.”

Shen Zhao strode off first. Chu Mu followed behind, convinced that his mother, who had always been kind and upright, would never harbor such baseless malice. There must be something Shen Zhao didn’t know—he refused to believe his mother would do something as callous as smashing a memorial tablet.

The two walked in silence, one after the other, just as they encountered the old woman bringing food.

She immediately covered the contents of her basket with a blue cloth at the sight of Shen Zhao, her eyes flickering with guilt.

She bowed respectfully and greeted, “This old servant greets the General.”

Then, noticing Chu Mu behind her, she added, “The Madam is still being punished. General, are you taking her somewhere? She hasn’t finished serving her time. If the Old Madam finds out…”

Already annoyed, and remembering how this old woman often tormented her, Shen Zhao—unable to strike Chu Mu but more than willing to strike the servant—lashed out with a swift kick.

She glared, her voice sharp. “Get out of my way. Do I need a servant meddling in my affairs? She is the lady of this house. Mind your disrespectful gaze. If it happens again, you’ll be thrown out of the General’s estate.”

The old woman cried out in pain and looked on in confusion. The General had always been lenient and had never punished the servants. What was wrong with her today? Why the sudden outburst? And since when did the General care about the Madam? Was she bewitched by that little vixen Shen again? No, she had to report this to the Old Madam. If Shen ever rose to power, she’d be the first to suffer—she shuddered remembering the ways she’d tormented Shen in secret.

Just then, her basket tipped, and its contents tumbled out, rolling to a stop at Shen Zhao’s feet before the old woman could retrieve them.