Chapter Forty-Eight: The Matriarch Returns

Previously, the servants in the estate would tremble like mice upon seeing him, desperately wishing they could bury their heads into the cracks of the floor tiles.

Today, however, the gate-guarding footmen, along with the passing maidservants and matrons, still wore a trace of dread in their gazes, but beneath it lay a thick, undisguised disdain and schadenfreude.

It was as if they were saying: What are you acting so high and mighty for? Your downfall is right around the corner.

Xie Ning paused in his steps, his brows slightly furrowing.

How could the fortunes of this Marquis's estate change so abruptly?

Could it be that old bastard Jia Yibo had hatched some new scheme?

Just as he was pondering, a familiar figure hurried out from behind the spirit wall to greet him.

"Young Master, you have returned."

It was Qingfeng.

"What has happened?"

Xie Ning asked straight to the point.

"Has someone come to the estate?"

"You are wise, Young Master."

Qingfeng lowered his voice and leaned close to Xie Ning's ear.

"This morning, after you went to the palace banquet, a large crowd suddenly arrived at the estate with quite a grand procession."

"At the head of them was an elderly woman who looked regal and opulent. She arrived in an eight-bearer sedan chair, escorted by dozens of guards and maidservants, marching in grand style."

An elderly woman?

Xie Ning's expression grew stern, a thought instantly flashing through his mind.

He tapped his own head, cursing inwardly.

How could he have forgotten about this matter?

Recounting it, this old woman was the original owner's biological grandmother, as well as the birth mother of the body's mother.

She was Wang Furong, the wife of the late Marquis of Dingyuan, Lord Xie Kun.

Xie Ning rummaged through the original owner's memories.

He quickly fished out all the information concerning this Dowager.

After Xie Yun's death, this Dowager had suffered a devastating blow and moved alone to live in the Great Buddha Temple on the outskirts of the city. She claimed she wished to spend her days accompanied only by the green lamps and ancient Buddhas, burning incense and praying for her deceased daughter to wash away her sins.

She had lived there for nearly ten years.

Why had she suddenly returned today?

And with such a massive spectacle, no less.

Even without much thought, Xie Ning could guess that this matter was inextricably linked to Jia Yibo.

Most importantly, this Dowager was obstinate by nature and had always placed immense trust in Jia Yibo.

Conversely, she had never shown a favorable expression toward her own maternal grandson.

Now, Jia Yibo's position in the Marquis's estate was hanging by a thread, and his words no longer carried weight.

His purpose in inviting this old woman back was self-evident.

Just to use the Dowager's status to suppress him.

"Heh, how interesting."

Xie Ning sneered.

It seemed Jia Yibo had truly exhausted his tricks.

Unable to defeat him, he had gone crying to elders; he was truly sinking lower with age.

Sure enough, just as Xie Ning was considering how to respond, an unfamiliar, middle-aged man dressed like a head steward swaggered over.

He glanced at Xie Ning, his gaze akin to looking at trash on the roadside.

"Heir Apparent," he spoke in a mocking tone, too lazy to even bend his waist. "The Old Madame requests your presence. Go to Fusheng Hall immediately to see her."

His attitude was arrogant to the extreme.

Xie Ning understood the situation clearly.

The moment this Dowager returned, the spines of Jia Yibo's faction had stiffened once again.

It appeared that a grand 'Hongmen Banquet' had already been set up in Fusheng Hall, just waiting for him to take a seat.

Xie Ning looked at the steward—who was acting fierce on the borrowed power of another—and remained silent, merely nodding faintly.

"Understood."

Seeing how sensible he was being, the steward wore a smug, derisive smirk. With a cold huff, he turned and left, too lazy to even offer a formal parting phrase.

"Young Master..."

Qingfeng looked at Xie Ning with deep concern.

"It's fine."

Xie Ning waved his hand, his expression devoid of any discernible emotion.

"When soldiers come, block them with arms; when water comes, dam it with earth. I'd like to see what tricks they can pull off. Come with me."

"Understood," Qingfeng and Mingyue replied in unison.

Xie Ning adjusted his robes and strode toward Fusheng Hall.

Since they had already built the stage, it would be terribly impolite if he, the protagonist, refused to put on a show.

Fusheng Hall was the courtyard designated specifically for the Old Madame within the Marquis of Dingyuan's estate.

The location was secluded and the furnishings elegant.

Xie Ning had only visited a few times during his childhood, and his impressions were already hazy.

Within just a few minutes of walking, Xie Ning arrived outside the courtyard of Fusheng Hall.

Before even stepping inside, he heard waves of laughter and merry chatter drifting out.

The atmosphere sounded quite lively.

A cold smirk tugged at the corner of Xie Ning's lips as he lifted his foot and crossed the threshold.

Upon entering, the scene before his eyes almost made him laugh out loud.

A dense crowd surrounded the stone table in the center of the courtyard.

Occupying the main seat in the middle was an elderly woman clad in a dark red brocade robe patterned with the character for longevity ('Fu'). Her hair was completely silvered, and though her features were aged, an air of authority still lingered.

This must be his cheap grandmother.

Standing respectfully behind the old woman, or seated in the lower rows, were Jia Yibo, his good-for-nothing son, and a host of relatives from the estate.

Every single one of them wore an expression so smug they seemed ready to float to the heavens.

Jia Yibo, in particular, was massaging the old woman's shoulders with a face full of ingratiating smiles, chattering away and sending the old woman into fits of delighted laughter.

What a heartwarming picture of filial piety and maternal affection.

Xie Ning's appearance instantly shattered this warm atmosphere.

Nearly everyone's gazes converged on him in unison.

Some held schadenfreude, some contempt, and others venomous hatred.

The atmosphere froze slightly at that moment.

Jia Yibo ceased his shoulder massage, straightened his posture, and looked at Xie Ning with eyes brimming with malice and triumph.

His hypocritical face practically screamed a few bold words: *Brat, your time is up.*

His good-for-nothing son, Jia Huizu, made no effort to conceal his gloating. He curled his lip at Xie Ning and flashed a provocative smile.

Xie Ning turned a blind eye to all these glances.

His gaze calmly landed on the Dowager sitting in the main seat.

The Dowager's hair was completely white, combed meticulously into a bun pinned with a phoenix-headed hairpin inlaid with emeralds, making her look regal and opulent.

Her face was covered in wrinkles, but her eyes were exceptionally sharp. At this moment, she was looking Xie Ning up and down with an evaluative gaze tinged with dissatisfaction.

Xie Ning simply stood there, neither humble nor arrogant, allowing her to scrutinize him.

He did not humble himself or rush forward to offer obsequious greetings like Jia Yibo's faction.

He knew that the more he lowered his posture, the more the old woman would take advantage.

To deal with an obstinate, self-righteous old fogey who had been brainwashed, the only method was to be even tougher and more unyielding than her.

True to expectation, Xie Ning's uncooperative attitude instantly caused the old woman's brows to knit together.

Jia Yibo seized the opportunity immediately.

"Xie Ning, what kind of attitude is this?"

Jia Yibo spoke with a heart-wrenching expression—his acting skills truly wasted if he didn't join the theater.

"Why do you not bow and offer greetings upon seeing the Dowager? Have the books of sages you read been eaten by dogs?"