An endless stretch of open ground, dotted with countless tents that seemed like mushrooms viewed from afar. In the distance, squads of soldiers were practicing, their voices rising in thunderous clamor. Closer by, armored troops held long spears and patrolled the perimeter of the tents, vigilant and alert. Inside the general’s tent, Ling Pei was seated calmly in a tiger-backed chair. His right thumb rested against his temple, his face clearly bearing the weight of a severe headache. Facing him sat the military strategist Ruan Yi Ying and Deputy General Lin Cheng Qi, both with slight smiles—quietly amused, perhaps even tolerant of his frustration. "You've asked me what to do about that little show-off," Ling Pei said, recalling Cold Wanwan—the usually reserved, self-assured daughter of the General—who now made him deeply uneasy. "She's not like other people at all—she dares to defy both heaven and earth—and yet I find myself having to admire how well she manages our household." "Miss is indeed acting for your good," Ruan Yi Ying managed with a restrained chuckle, remembering how, just days ago, a group of beautiful young women had arrived in the camp. They claimed they were sent specifically by Miss Wanwan to serve as attendants and even as lovers to the General. To see the General’s face flush from embarrassment and astonishment—he was practically glowing with delight. "Good? What good?" Ling Pei snapped, turning sharply toward Ruan Yi Ying. "Have you ever heard of a daughter arranging for her father's personal attendants at such a young age?" Even more surprising—she justified it as being beneficial to his health! How old was she, really? Six years ago, she had mentioned choosing a wife for him—but he thought that was just childish whimsy. Now, here she was, actually sending people into the camp. What would become of his dignity as a distinguished General of the Northern Command if this were to be known? "Puh!" Ruan Yi Ying could no longer hold back her laughter, witnessing Ling Pei's helpless expression. Lin Cheng Qi’s face tightened in effort—his patience stretched thin. "Report," came the voice from outside the tent. "Enter," said Ling Pei, his earlier headache momentarily smoothed by composure. "Your report, General. There is a letter from the estate." "With that," Ling Pei accepted it, unfolded it carefully—and upon reading it, gasped in surprise. With a loud crash, he knocked over the inkstone on his desk. Ink splashed across the table, leaving him quite disheveled. "General, what has happened?" asked Ruan Yi Ying and Lin Cheng Qi, both rising to their feet—duly serious now. Was there indeed some crisis unfolding in Yao City? "Wanwan has been involved," Ling Pei replied, instructing Ruan Yi Ying and Lin Cheng Qi to remain at the camp as he took charge. Then, rising, he strode toward the outer door, shouting, "Prepare horses!" Taking the horse offered by a steward, he mounted swiftly and gave it sharp kicks—like mist vanishing into the morning air before the eyes of all present. --- At the General's Mansion Sunlight streamed through the windows; flowers perfumed the air. Muzhao Yun lay on her bed, cradling a white cat. She was half-closed-eyed, contentedly relaxed—and she thought, with satisfaction, that the troublesome young lady would finally be dealt with now. After all, they had summoned the very best assassins from the renowned martial circles—she expected to see no one emerge alive. "Mother! Mother!" Cold Yueer rushed in, her sixteen-year-old figure graceful and elegant, bearing a striking resemblance to Muzhao Yun herself. She entered breathlessly, nearly knocking over a nearby stool with her haste. "What's wrong? Why all this hurry?" Muzhao Yun frowned, slightly concerned. Her daughter always seemed so emotionally unsteady—how could she possibly rise to such important responsibilities? "Mother," Yueer panted, her dark eyes blazing with resentment. "That girl has returned!" Over the past six years, her brilliance had been consistently overshadowed by that younger sister. Everywhere—from within the estate to beyond—the name of Miss Wanwan had eclipsed her own. Now even the servants remembered only her as the true heiress. Sigh— Muzhao Yun's hand tightened unconsciously—pressing hard against the white cat, which responded with a strong grip, leaving a clear red mark on her wrist. The pressure stung so much that she gasped in pain. In frustration, she pushed the cat off the bed. "Meow," the little cat murmured, turning around and leaping out into the hallway, unbothered. "Another failure," said Lüli, her eyes blazing with fiery determination. Six years of relentless attempts to eliminate her—now all ending in defeat. She had hoped that this time, with such top-tier assassins, she could finally send her off to meet her dead mother—but instead, the plan collapsed once more. Was there no way to bring an end to it? "Mother," Yueer looked at her earnestly, "what should we do now? I'm afraid Miss Wanwan will come back and retaliate against us. That girl is so cold-hearted—she does anything when she sees fit." "What’s there to fear?" Muzhao Yun said firmly, looking at her daughter. "Over the past six years, haven't we done plenty of things behind the scenes? Hasn’t she ever realized it was *us* who orchestrated those events?" She believed she had masterfully hidden everything—only to find out that actually, Miss Wanwan had simply pretended not to know, turning every act into a game—and now, she played her own part with quiet amusement. "Indeed," Yueer brightened. "She never even knew it was us!" "But still," Yueer added, with growing impatience, "shouldn’t we let her keep rising in power like this? How can we allow someone so junior to dominate our household while we remain unnoticed?" "Rest assured," Muzhao Yun said, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I will make sure she feels the full weight of my displeasure." "Hmm," Yueer nodded. "By the way—shouldn’t we bring back our elder brother and younger brother? After all, as the eldest son, he should be in charge of the household. Isn’t that more legitimate than Miss Wanwan?" "No," Muzhao Yun replied with a shake of her head. "My eldest son always listens to your father—he won't support us. As for my youngest son—his body is frail and his nature is so gentle; he’s easily influenced. It would be better if he continues to rest at his maternal grandmother’s home." She sighed. With two sons and one daughter, she had counted on only her daughter to stand beside her. "Madam," came a steady voice from outside the door—courteous yet composed. "What is it?" Muzhao Yun arched an eyebrow, glancing at her daughter—why was this steward here? "Miss Wanwan has kindly invited you and Miss Yueer to meet in the front hall," said the steward. "What business?" Muzhao Yun asked with a note of annoyance. After all, as the General’s wife, she still expected some formality from such an invitation. "I am not aware of any specific reason—only that Miss Wanwan has requested your presence." "Then what if we refuse?" Yueer exclaimed, clearly irritated. That girl had begun to treat them as second-class. "We’ll go shortly," Muzhao Yun decided after a moment's thought. "But why should we go?" Yueer protested, her tone firm. "Why must we be summoned merely because she wishes?" "To see what kind of performance she’s putting on," said Muzhao Yun, her eyes narrowing with quiet resolve. She wanted to discover exactly what Miss Wanwan intended. On a brown horse, Ling Pei arrived at the General's Mansion and handed the mount over to the attendants before rushing toward the main courtyard. "Is everything well?" he called out as he approached—already anxious. "Wanwan has just informed me that something is amiss." "Miss Wanwan," he said simply. When the attendant, Yin Qin, entered with a basket of documents and items arranged neatly, Ling Pei took them from her hands. "Here, Father," said Wanwan, handing over every piece—each one a documented act of injustice done by Muzhao Yun over the past six years. "What is this?" Ling Pei asked, his voice puzzled as he examined each item. His face grew steadily darker. He had always assumed she would be content with her position—but now it seemed clear: she was actively undermining him under his very eyes. Each piece of evidence piled up with increasing intensity—his frustration mounting. It was becoming evident that his own indulgence in her early years had allowed her to believe she could rule independently. "Where is the woman?" he asked, holding them close, now deeply agitated. "In the front hall," Wanwan replied coldly—her tone suggesting a deliberate distance toward her opponent. To be kind to an adversary was to become harsh with one’s own allies. So, regarding Muzhao Yun’s situation ahead, she showed no sympathy at all. "Let us go," said Ling Pei firmly, waving his sleeve and stepping out of the tent. "Come," Wanwan added calmly, "let's see what's next in the drama." --- Please—friends who enjoy this story—please vote! Today was a thorough home cleaning to prepare for the New Year. What a lovely way to mark the season—I'm so glad! Happy New Year to all of you!