A Tale of Golden Heiress: Lady Wanjin - Chapter 2

“Don’t rush. Let me pay my respects to Grandfather and Grandmother first.”

Wen Wan ignored his words, taking two steps back instead. She straightened her robes with solemnity, then bowed deeply to the eldest uncle, her expression grave.

Her face was as somber as if attending a funeral.

She then ordered a servant nearby, “Fetch three sticks of incense. I wish to honour my grandparents.”

The eldest uncle suddenly found the ancestral tablets in his arms burning hot to the touch.

Especially with Wen Wan’s mournful, ill-omened expression—for a moment, he couldn’t tell whose death she was mourning.

He hastily set the tablets down on a nearby stone table and said slowly, “There’s no hurry for that. Let’s first deal with Aunt Liu according to father and mother’s wishes.”

As he spoke, he couldn’t help but scrutinize the girl before him.

She had striking features—nothing like her father, Wen Weiming, but eerily reminiscent of her long-deceased mother.

Rumour had it that ever since Wen Weiming fell ill, this girl had shut herself away, refusing visitors to study business.

She hadn’t made any notable progress in trade, but she had grown even more reticent than before.

The clan elders all said she was timid and indecisive, destined for mediocrity. Yet, just days ago, when the Wen clan had besieged the household, this very girl had shed her meek facade and, alongside Aunt Liu, fought back fiercely—shocking everyone with her boldness.

Truly, the dog that bites doesn’t bark.

How infuriating! The Wen elders prayed daily for Wen Wan to fall off a horse, drown in a river, or choke on her drink—yet the heavens only granted her a severe bout of fever.

Just days ago, she had been burning up, teetering on the edge of death, her name flickering on the King of Hell’s ledger—yet still, the underworld hadn’t claimed this little demon.

What a pity!

“Very well.” To his surprise, Wen Wan agreed readily, her delicate features softening into a smile, “Thank you, Uncle, for upholding justice for me. Aunt Liu spends money like water, and Father has long wanted to be rid of her. It’s just…”

The eldest uncle chuckled, “Just what? She’s just a lowly servant—kick her out. What’s there to hesitate over?”

“You’re absolutely right, Uncle.” Wen Wan smiled gently, her expression one of relief, “In the entire clan, you’re the only one who truly cares for me. The others… well, no need to mention them.”

Something about her tone unsettled the eldest uncle. Remembering the clan elders’ ambiguous stance on Liu Yiyi, a flicker of unease crept in, “Does this Liu Yiyi… have some kind of backing?”

“Ah.” Wen Wan sighed heavily, “Aunt Liu’s family… are butchers from Ping County. She has over a dozen brothers, all in the business of slaughtering and selling pigs. Cross them, and it’s white blades in, red blades out. Who in Ping County dares cross their path?”

She glanced at the eldest uncle’s paling face, her internal sneer growing colder though her expression remained unchanged.

“Only you, Uncle, care enough to risk offending the Lius to deal with Aunt Liu for my sake. Such kindness… truly moves me.”

The uncle’s voice trembled, “N-no need for thanks.”

Now he finally understood why the clan elders had been so evasive earlier.

Damn it!

They’d made him the sacrificial pawn!

“By the way, Uncle, was there anything else?”

“Oh! Right, right—Aunt Liu’s matter isn’t urgent.” The uncle seemed distracted, his eyes glazed, before snapping back to attention, “Where’s your father? I have important business with him today.”

“Uncle, Father is gravely ill and hasn’t left his bed for days. Whatever you need, you may say it to me.”

Recalling his true purpose, the uncle regained his vigour and boomed, “You’re too young and just a woman—this isn’t for your ears. Fetch your father. I must discuss the stakes with him properly.”

Is this rat spirit blind or deaf? Can he not comprehend “hasn’t left his bed”?

Wen Wan’s fury simmered, but she suppressed it, “Uncle, the physician said Father needs absolute rest. If your household lacks provisions, you need only ask me.”

The uncle flushed.

Normally, Old Master Wen never let him leave empty-handed. Over time, the clan had mocked him for his freeloading.

But now, with Wen Weiming at death’s door, provoking him risked disastrous consequences—and blame.

Having just escaped one trap, the uncle vowed never to be the scapegoat again.

His tone softened, “Fine. Since you’re in charge, I’ll speak directly. Few days ago, I proposed adopting a clever clan boy to your father. Once he passed away, the boy could perform funeral rites and manage affairs, sparing you, a woman, from dealing with men’s business. A sensible girl like you would understand my care.” He gestured behind him, “This is Aunt Feng, wife of your father’s cousin—”

A plainly dressed woman stepped forward with an ingratiating smile, pushing a reluctant boy ahead, “Eldest Miss, this is Zhao’er. From now on, he’ll be your true younger brother—”

Wen Wan blinked.

Oh?

They switched candidates.

At least it wasn’t his drooling grandson this time.

How convenient—with so many grandsons, they could keep swapping until one stuck.

The woman pressed the boy’s shoulders, “Quick, greet her! She’s your rightful elder sister now. Zhao’er, kneel and kowtow to her!”

Wen Wan sidestepped the bow.

Nanny Chen, still seething over Aunt Liu’s mistreatment and itching for confrontation, yanked the boy up like a chick, “To hell with that! Who are you calling ‘sister’? Open your dog eyes—is she your sister?”

The boy struggled helplessly, looking to the woman.

Wen Wan ignored their silent pleas, her voice icy, “I dare not accept such a ‘brother.'”

Once, I called someone ‘brother’ and nearly lost my life.

Now, call me ‘sister,’ and I’ll take yours.

She raised a hand, her displeasure clear, “Aunt Feng, my father has only two children—my sister and me. I have no ‘true younger brother.’ Mind your words—don’t smear my reputation.”

“Wen Wan!” The eldest uncle’s face twisted in frustration, “You’re being utterly unreasonable! Your father is on the brink of death—if we don’t settle the adoption now, it’ll be too late! How can you, as his child, be so heartless as to force him to face the afterlife alone?”

The eldest uncle was desperate.

The adoption had to be approved by Wen Weiming himself.

But with the old man hovering between life and death, the matter was stuck in limbo.

The clan elders couldn’t force it through—if Wen Weiming died before consenting, all his scheming would come to nothing.

Fortunately, his own family was prolific, with seven or eight grandsons to spare. The elders had hinted that one of his brighter grandsons should be chosen for the Wen family.

That way, the Wen fortune… would fall squarely into his hands.

But that damned Wen Weiming! Every time the adoption was brought up, the old fool would play deaf and dumb with Aunt Liu’s help. Last time, he’d even vomited all over him!

Wen Wan seethed internally but maintained a composed smile, “There’s no need for Uncle to worry about funeral rites. Didn’t you know? Father has already decided I’ll take a husband into the family. In less than half a month, you’ll be eating at my wedding feast.”

“A live-in husband?!” The uncle slapped his thigh in agitation, “Foolish! Utterly foolish! In these times, what decent family would let their son marry into another’s household? Any man willing to do so is only after the Wen family’s wealth! A young girl like you—how could you handle such wolves and tigers? By the time they’ve devoured you whole, it’ll be too late to cry for help!”

Then, his tone shifted, “Don’t tell me your father has his eye on Qi Guili? He must be truly delirious! Qi Guili was preparing for the imperial exams just a year ago—how could a scholar ever stoop to being a live-in son-in-law? Listen, Zhao’er is clever and filial. In a few years, he’ll be grown enough to manage the winery with you. And if needed, I’ll step in to help. You won’t have to lift a finger—just focus on preparing for marriage—”

The more he spoke, the more delighted he became, his lips curling into a grin as if envisioning gold and concubines within reach, “I’ve checked the almanac—today is an auspicious day. Why don’t we settle this now—”

Settle? Settle your mother’s chicken-feather delusions!

You rat-spirit bastard, dreaming big, aren’t you?

In her past life, Wen Wan had worked in real estate and prided herself on being unshakable—yet this uncle had managed to ignite her fury.

“What kind of man I marry is none of your concern, Uncle. But do me a favour—go back and tell the Wen elders that in half a month, I, Wen Wan, will be taking a husband…”

She stamped her foot on the ground, her voice ringing with steel.

“Right where you’re standing.”

“A grand banquet of thirty tables will be served. Be sure they don’t miss the celebration. Servants, escort our guest out!”

Finally, the servants sprang into action, seizing the eldest uncle by both arms and hauling him toward the exit.

“Wen Wan, how can you be so stubborn… My goodwill, you treat as donkey liver and lungs…”

His humiliation curdled into outright fury.

“You want a live-in husband? Might as well marry a drooling, incontinent cripple!”

“Just wait—once Wen Weiming’s corpse turns cold, the clan will confiscate your assets! Then you’ll learn your lesson!”

Dragging the woman and boy behind him, he roared over his shoulder, “Fine! In half a month, let’s see what trash Wen Wan drags home!”

His curses faded into the distance.

Wen Wan ignored them, turning instead to Aunt Liu. Gently, she straightened the woman’s rumpled clothes, “Are you hurt?”

Tears welled in Aunt Liu’s eyes, “I regret it.”

Wen Wan sighed softly.

Aunt Liu had every right to weep. Though a concubine in name, Wen Weiming had treated her as his rightful wife.

For half a year, she’d been the shield of the Wen household—and today, she’d nearly been sold off like livestock.

She must regret pushing the clan elders to desperation with her uncompromising ways.

But before Wen Wan could console her, Aunt Liu wiped her tears and snarled, “Damn it! A wooden plaque had me trembling. Ha! What’s there to fear from a dead block of wood? That old turtle-shelled bastard won’t trick me again!”

Wen Wan gaped.

Aunt Liu—early materialist warrior.

Nanny Chen sighed, “Calling him ‘turtle-shelled bastard’ daily—no wonder they target you.”

Wen Wan patted her shoulder, “Next time, smile to his face… then stab him in the back.”

Nanny Chen, “Both of you are hopeless.”