As long as she kept her green hills, would she ever lack firewood?
As long as Feng Qing was preserved, her lineage could continue to thrive.
Feng Yue’s body swayed slightly.
Zheng Hua pointed at the approaching Feng Qing and said to his wife, “Look, isn’t that our daughter? The one behind her is Mr. Fang, right? The assistant you assigned to her?”
“The one inside is the fake. She doesn’t have Mr. Fang with her. I was wondering why I hadn’t seen him all day!”
So, the daughter who’d been parading in front of him all day was a counterfeit.
He’d been fooled.
That impostor had played the part so well that even he, her father, hadn’t noticed she was fake.
“Mom.”
Feng Qing stepped up the stairs and stood before her mother.
She said, “I told you I’m your daughter. I’ll face the storm with you, no matter the outcome. I’ll stand by you, Mom.”
“Don’t try to send me away again—I won’t go. There’s no word for ‘flee’ in Feng Qing’s dictionary.”
Feng Yue’s face turned ashen with rage, her blood boiling to the point she felt she might spit it out.
She raised her hand to slap Feng Qing, but seeing her daughter stand unflinching, the hand froze midair, ultimately unable to land on Feng Qing’s face.
“You, you, you… what a fine daughter you are!”
Feng Yue gritted her teeth.
“How did I give birth to such a stubborn fool? You’re so bullheaded you’ll be the death of me! With a daughter like you, my lifespan’s probably shortened by a decade from the stress!”
Feng Qing opened her eyes.
When she’d seen her mother’s hand raised high, she’d closed them, bracing for the slap.
But her mother hadn’t struck her.
“Mom, I know you mean well, but I can’t accept your arrangements.”
“I’ve said it—we face the consequences together, whatever they are. If we’re wrong, we admit it and deal with it. If we’re falsely accused, we find a way to clear the filth from our names.”
“Running away solves nothing.”
Feng Yue was speechless.
Fuming, she turned away from her daughter and stormed back into the house.
She crossed the hall, marched upstairs to her study, and locked the door behind her.
Zheng Hua finally pieced it together.
The Feng Qing inside was indeed fake—not a spy planted by their enemies, but a decoy his wife had set up for their real daughter.
He’d guessed right—his wife would go to any lengths to protect their daughter’s life.
What he hadn’t expected was that she’d already sent their daughter away long ago, leaving a stand-in to deceive them all.
Realizing this, Zheng Hua felt a chill run through him.
“Dad, what’s wrong with Mom? The two of them… which one’s real, which one’s fake?” Zheng Yifan asked.
Without warning, Zheng Hua slapped his son across the face.
Zheng Yifan stood there, stunned by his father’s blow.
Then Zheng Hua turned and slapped his other two sons, one after the other.
After striking them, he roared, “Get out! All of you, get out! Leave the mansion—don’t let me see you tonight, or I’ll disown you as my sons!”
Zheng Yifan and his brothers stared at their father, dumbfounded.
They couldn’t fathom why they’d been hit.
Feng Qing spoke calmly, “Dad, if you’re scared, take my three brothers and go.”
“This is Feng family business—a grudge spanning two generations of the Fengs. You’re not surnamed Feng, so you don’t have to get involved. Leave—no one will blame you.”
With that, Feng Qing stepped toward the house.
But the butler hurried over, calling out to stop her.
“Miss, they’re here—they’ve all arrived! Just now, so many cars—they’ve brought dozens of cars, lining the whole street!”
It was Madam Shang, arriving with her entourage for the banquet.
