Gu Hansheng · Conversa

[Family Banquet] Gu Family Ancestral Residence, Banquet Hall. Candle shadows flickered on the long table, surrounded by relatives and friends. You sat upright on the right side of the main seat, wearing a simple and elegant dark green qipao. Su Wan sat at the end of the table. A concubine was not supposed to sit at the table, but Gu Hansheng had spoken—and no one dared to say a word. Everything was peaceful at first. Until Su Wan approached you holding a cup of tea. "Sister, let me offer you a toast," she said softly. You looked up at her. Before you could react, her body suddenly recoiled backward. The teacup shattered across the floor, and she fell right onto the broken porcelain, cutting her palm as beads of blood welled up. "Sister... why did you push me?" A hush fell over the room. All eyes locked onto you. You set down your teacup, offering no explanation. Gu Hansheng suddenly stood up. The wind caught by the hem of his military uniform blew out the nearest candle. "What are you doing?" His voice was as cold as ice. He rushed to Su Wan's side in a few quick strides, bending down to help her up. Nestled in his arms, Su Wan's tears fell silently as her voice trembled: "Young Marshal... don't blame Sister... it was my own clumsiness..." These words poured oil on the fire. Gu Hansheng looked up, his gaze pinning you down. In his eyes was anger, annoyance, and a certainty of "I knew it." "Mrs. Gu." He didn't even call you "Madam" anymore. His voice was low, yet every word was crystal clear, audible to the entire table. "If you cannot tolerate her, you could have just said so. Doing such a thing in front of the elders—do you have any decency left as the young mistress of the Gu family?" Decency. You sat there calmly, watching him shield Su Wan behind him, watching him glare at you so coldly for another woman. Then, you let out a small laugh. It wasn't bitter, nor was it aggrieved. It was a clean, almost detached smile of someone who had completely let go of something. "Decency?" You repeated the word, your voice not loud but just enough for him to hear. "Is the decency the Young Marshal speaks of the decency where your concubine can slander the primary wife at a family banquet? Or is it the decency of you publicly scolding your first wife without knowing right from wrong?" A collective gasp echoed through the room. No one had ever dared to speak to Gu Hansheng like this. Gu Hansheng's brow furrowed deeper, his jawline tensing like a drawn bowstring. He opened his mouth but didn't immediately retort—because your gaze was too calm. It wasn't guilty or defiant; it was a clear, upright calmness of a clear conscience. For a brief moment, he even hesitated. But Su Wan let out a soft whimper behind him, like a small kitten. He was instantly pulled back. "Is the wound on Wanwan's hand fake?" His voice grew colder. "Was her fall fake too? I saw it with my own eyes—and you still dare to make excuses?" "Did you see me push her with your own eyes?" You stared straight into his eyes, enunciating every word. He hadn't. He hadn't seen anything. He had heard the shattering of the teacup and Su Wan's gasp. When he turned around, he only saw you sitting upright and Su Wan on the ground. He hadn't seen the moment you pushed her—because that moment had never happened. But he would not admit he might be wrong. "Sophistry." He turned his face away, no longer looking into your eyes, though his voice dropped a bit. "Go back to your room. Don't embarrass yourself here." Embarrass yourself. This word was lighter than 'despicable,' but it pierced a different part of the heart. You stood up. The hem of your qipao brushed gently against the floor. You weren't flustered, you weren't angry, and you didn't even quicken your pace. As you passed by his side, you paused. "Young Marshal," you said, looking at him sideways, your gaze as calm as a pool of stagnant water. "Who you protect is your business. But the next time you want to convict me, at least make sure you see whether I actually put my hand out." You left. Without looking back. Gu Hansheng stood in place, still half-supporting Su Wan, but his knuckles turned white from clenching. Watching your back disappear through the hall doors, he felt a strange sensation—as if something was slipping through his fingers, and he couldn't catch it. Su Wan gently tugged at his sleeve: "Young Marshal... Sister, she..." "I'll have someone take you back to your room," he interrupted her, his voice returning to its usual coldness. He didn't look at Su Wan again. His gaze fell upon the hall entrance—you were no longer there, yet he stared at it for a long time. Wei Yuan walked up behind him at some point and said in a low voice, "Young Marshal, Madam... indeed did not push her just now." Gu Hansheng said nothing. He picked up the wine glass from the table and downed it in one gulp. As the strong liquor burned down his throat, it failed to extinguish that inexplicable, sour, and bitter fire in his heart.