Two weeks later, Lady Wang suddenly summoned Xian Ling to her private chambers.
The room was the most luxurious in the house—rosewood furniture, heavy silk curtains, the scent of expensive incense.
"Sit," Lady Wang said coldly.
Xian Ling sat, displaying outward respect.
"I hear you've been interfering in the management of the estate."
"I'm trying to help, Madam."
"Help?" Lady Wang laughed sharply. "You're a girl. Your only duty is to be pretty, obedient, and find a suitable husband—not meddle in men's affairs."
"But if the family's situation improves, it will be easier to find a suitable match."
Lady Wang stared at her suspiciously. "You've changed. Since the incident… you've become insolent."
"I've become aware. There's a difference."
Lady Wang slammed her palm on the table. "Watch your tone! I run this household! And if you're not careful, I'll make your life a living hell!"
The threat was explicit.
"What exactly do you want from me, Madam?"
"I want you to stop interfering. Stay in your room, study etiquette, and wait for the marriage I arrange for you."
Xian Ling understood. They were planning to marry her off—to someone who benefited them, not her.
"And who will this husband be?"
"That is none of your concern. Now leave."
As she walked out, her heart raced. Time was running out. She had to move faster.
That night, Xian Ling wrote two letters.
The first to Li Feng:
"I need your help with something sensitive."
The second took longer. She thought of the mysterious man she had met on the road. He was influential. And he owed her a favor.
"To the gentleman I assisted on the road. I apologize for the disturbance, but I seek advice. How can someone at the bottom of the ladder protect themselves from those directly above them, who wish to keep them there? I ask not for intervention—only wisdom."
She didn't know his address, but entrusted the letter to a loyal servant and asked him to inquire in town about the man involved in the carriage accident.
Three days later, a reply arrived. Not a letter—but a small book.
"The Art of War" by Sun Tzu.
On the first page, a single line written in elegant handwriting:
"If your enemy is stronger, do not confront him directly. Make him fight himself."
Beneath the book lay a small envelope containing one hundred taels of silver.
Xian Ling smiled for the first time in a long while.
The message was clear:
Fight smart.
And the money was her ammunition.