It was precisely during this commotion that the families of the involved young gentlemen also received the news. Upon hearing that their sons had led men to surround the Wang family compound, every one of them sucked in a sharp breath.

Their first reaction was: Are we dreaming? They knew their own children well enough—petty theft, fighting, drinking, gambling, frequenting brothels—those were all commonplace.

But besieging the Wang family compound? Had their heads been turned?

When the servant sent to report repeatedly swore to the truth, the families erupted into chaos. They urged messengers to immediately seize their prodigal sons while simultaneously summoning the household to discuss damage control.

The deed was done; the priority now was shifting blame. Everyone unanimously insisted their child lacked such audacity and must have been instigated by someone else.

After vigorous questioning, it turned out to be the Young Mistress of the Marquis of Dingxi’s estate. Heavens!

Has the progeny of the Marquis of Dingxi finally joined the ranks of dissolute young nobles? But why the Young Mistress?

Not the Young Master? The Marquis of Dingxi harbored the very same thought.

His descendant had finally joined the lineage of troublemaking wastrels. He recalled a time in his youth when his grandfather mocked a colleague whose grandson was constantly causing trouble—fighting this one yesterday, insulting that one the day before.

That colleague laughed heartily, clapping the old man on the shoulder, saying, “What good is a grandson who isn't mischievous? Should we raise him like a girl?

Even some ladies ride horses and practice with blades these days.” The grandfather’s expression had turned terribly grim. Eventually, those colleagues began discussing their own children's unruly behavior, their expressions showing no less anger, but rather a faint smugness, interspersed with comments like, “Your family, the Changs, are truly fortunate; your children are as quiet and refined as young ladies.” It wasn't envy; it was ridicule.

The rumor spread: The Old Chang family line has taken a turn... After this remark circulated, the grandfather stopped attending gatherings with his colleagues.

In the end, even the brothers with whom he shared lifelong friendships stopped visiting. The Marquis of Dingxi still remembered how, amidst the banter of those grizzled old men, his grandfather glanced at him—a look filled entirely with disappointment.

He was useless, a failure who could never make his grandfather proud. When Chang Yun finally grew up, the Marquis thought he would finally experience the life his grandfather had longed for: cleaning up his son's messes, a mixture of disdain and reluctant pride.

But this boy turned out to be a lone wolf hero. He never called for help when fighting, win or lose, and never informed the family, much less brought along any attendants.

The children’s affairs were the children’s affairs. Since the children wouldn't speak of it, how could he shamelessly run around boasting?

If the victim remained silent, he felt he lacked the standing to make noise. Indeed, the Old Chang family, famous for their military merits from generations past, had truly shifted their nature.

They might as well accept their fate. He never expected a day like this to come, when a servant burst in, scrambling and terrified, reporting that a doctor from the Qianjin Hall had been seized, and the Young Mistress had gone out to fight, creating quite a scene...

“Insolence! Insolence!” Madam Xie paced back and forth, furious.

“This despicable maid, this despicable maid, simply cannot be kept! She will utterly disgrace the reputation of our Marquis of Dingxi’s estate!” Reputation...

“Who won?” the Marquis of Dingxi suddenly asked. This question startled everyone in the room.

“For now, it seems the Young Mistress won. The Wang family shut their doors and fled, but the Young Mistress suffered an injury herself; she was struck on the face...” the returning servant stammered.

The Marquis of Dingxi stared out the door, his expression growing increasingly agitated. “My Lord, draft the divorce papers.

Wait until the Wang family presses the issue tomorrow...” Madam Xie hissed. “Press what issue?!” the Marquis roared suddenly, slamming his hand on the table and rising to his feet.

This sudden movement shocked everyone. “They seized one of our clinic's men, demanded the person back, and then they struck my wife!

This matter is not over simply because they demand an explanation! They demand an explanation?

I haven't even demanded mine yet!” the Marquis shouted, his voice trembling with uncharacteristic excitement, even cracking slightly, making his imposing aura somewhat diminished. Everyone stared blankly at him.

They recognized every word the Marquis spoke, but strung together, they made no sense. “Men!

Grab your weapons and head to the Wang residence!” The Marquis of Dingxi flung his sleeve and strode out. He's gone mad...

Madam Xie watched the Marquis of Dingxi stumble slightly as he hurried out the door, her only thought being this: He’s gone mad. The Wang residence, which had been the source of the widespread noise outside, was now strangely quiet.

When Hu San was awakened from the woodshed, he was sleeping soundly, drooling, much to the disgust of the young pages. This person is the Senior Disciple of the Young Mistress of the Marquis of Dingxi?

But now, they dared not act rashly in the slightest. “Young Master Hu, please,” they said with ingratiating smiles.

This invitation made Hu San lose two-thirds of his soul. He instinctively reached down to cover his lower body.

“What are you doing?” he shouted, his voice cracking. The pages’ faces darkened again.

“Young Master Hu, hurry up. Someone has arrived to escort you,” they explained.

This time, Hu San heard clearly and straightened up sharply. “What did you call me?” he asked.

“Young Master Hu,” the pages repeated. Hu San looked at them, then suddenly burst into loud laughter.

“Say it a few more times so I can hear,” he demanded. The pages suppressed their irritation and lowered their heads to address him again.

Before Hu San even stepped into the main hall, he couldn't help but shout “Master!” at the top of his lungs. Already, a pretty maid was lifting the curtain.

Hu San rushed inside in two strides and immediately spotted Qi Yue sitting in a chair, surrounded by A'ru and A'hao, who seemed to be tending to her about something. “Master...” Hu San’s eyes involuntarily reddened.

Recalling the fright he had endured all afternoon, he felt both wronged and terrified. He rushed straight towards Qi Yue.

Chang Yuncheng rose from the side, blocking Hu San’s path, and shot him a cold glare. Hu San dismissed the thought of clinging to her leg to complain and stood properly.

Seeing Hu San enter, Fan Yilin immediately felt nauseous. Dejected, he could no longer restrain himself and stood up from his chair.

“I don’t believe it... How can one treat an illness like that...

It’s utterly disgraceful!” he cried out. Qi Yue, setting down the ice pack she was using on her face, patiently explained to the young gentleman once more.

“I have already said everything I intended to. I have used this method twice before.

You can inquire about it. Once, at my family’s estate, a child had drowned and stopped breathing; I revived him using this exact method.

The second time was myself,” she said, gesturing toward A’ru as she spoke. “Due to an accident, I suffocated; it was this maid here who performed artificial respiration on me using the method I had taught her.” Fan Yilin started to object again, but Wang Tongye spoke up, sharply admonishing him.

“Shut up and sit down,” he commanded in a deep voice. Fan Yilin immediately sat back down obediently.

“Mistress Qi is known to possess divine medical skill. This technique requires no further explanation.” Wang Tongye looked at Qi Yue as he spoke.

In the brief interval, his descendant had quietly informed him that the Young Mistress of the Marquis of Dingxi was a physician of some renown. Although Wang Tongye was unfamiliar with her personally, he trusted his descendant’s judgment.

Qi Yue nodded thankfully to him and then turned her attention back to Fan Yilin. “Young Master, you must have an injury, otherwise you would not have suddenly fainted and suffocated,” she stated.

Fan Yilin hung his head sullenly. “No, I have no injuries,” he muttered.

“Get up,” Wang Tongye ordered. Fan Yilin jumped up instantly.

“Go let Mistress Qi examine you. You ungrateful wretch, you don’t know what fortune you’ve had,” Wang Tongye scolded.

Fan Yilin shuffled over. Looking at the woman before him—her face swollen on one side, one eye huge and the other small—he turned his head away with a degree of disdain and extended his arm.

“I don’t check pulses,” Qi Yue said, standing up. “Unbutton your clothes so I can examine you.” Fan Yilin instinctively shielded his front, staring wide-eyed at the ugly woman.

Sure enough, Master and disciple are cut from the same cloth... He, Fan Yilin, was truly cursed with the worst luck.

Fate envied his good looks, only to have him threatened with profanation by this shameless pair one after the other! Qi Yue grew impatient waiting, so she simply reached out and tore open his robe herself.

Fan Yilin let out a shriek. This woman is too much...

Everyone in the room, including the Wang family members, couldn't help but widen their eyes. With one sharp tear, Qi Yue spun Fan Yilin around to face the crowd.

“Look,” she said calmly. Wang Tongye, standing close, clearly saw the deep bruising across Fan Yilin’s chest.

He couldn't help but step closer and reach out to pull away the remaining garment covering Fan Yilin. Fan Yilin was close to tears.

Mother, I want to go home; this place is terrifying. At this sight, everyone saw clearly.

The last chance for a reversal had vanished, and the Wang family members exchanged complex looks. “This injury caused his acute fainting and suffocation.

Had my disciple not discovered it in time and administered aid promptly, your young master would not be standing here now,” Qi Yue stated. So serious?

Is that true? “Perhaps it’s an old injury...” one family member muttered doubtfully.

Of course, no one paid that comment any mind. Whether new or old, the fact that she could state the presence of an injury with such certainty at a glance rendered the argument about her disciple's healing methods indefensible.

“You should find another doctor to examine him. My disciple has resolved the suffocation, though the cost was rather high,” Qi Yue said, reaching up to touch her face.

“We bid you farewell.” With that, she turned to leave. Chang Yuncheng, however, did not move his feet; he reached out and stopped her.

“The misunderstanding has been cleared up, and Old Master Wang, I have given you the explanation you requested,” he said, looking at the stern-faced Wang Tongye. “But you still owe me an explanation, don't you?” His gaze settled on Qi Yue's face, instantly igniting a furious heat in his chest.

He never used to think much of her being pushed or struck now and then, but seeing her injured now felt as though a piece of his own flesh had been gouged out—no, it hurt worse than a physical wound. Wang Tongye naturally knew what he was referring to.

He smiled at Chang Yuncheng. “Young Heir, the misunderstanding about seizing people has been explained.

But how do you plan to explain the siege on my Wang family gates? Once you explain, I will explain mine,” he said slowly, a smile on his face, but none in his eyes.

Looking at the other Wang family members in the room, their expressions were equally cold and angry. Are we wrong?

Even if we are wrong, so what? We are the Wang family; even when wrong, no one can treat us this way!

“This gentleman,” Qi Yue interjected, removing her hand from her face. “Are you suggesting that if someone strikes me, I have no right to strike back?” As she spoke, she gestured toward her own face.

“A mere woman, causing a public disturbance! In the end, the injury to your face is your own doing,” Wang Tongye scoffed.

“If you had behaved yourself and spoken politely, you wouldn't have...” Qi Yue’s patience finally snapped. She was already a dead woman; what was there left to fear?

“Ptooey,” she spat, cutting Wang Tongye off mid-sentence. This single act of spitting altered the composed expression of Wang Tongye.

Such audacity from a junior! She had appeared so dignified and polite just moments ago, how could she turn so vulgar?

But then again, it wasn't surprising; hadn't this very woman led the mob to surround his gates earlier? “Are you implying that because you struck my face, I should extend the other half and speak sweetly, begging you to strike that side as well?” Qi Yue retorted, her eyebrows raised.

“Esteemed Sir, you may possess such cultivation, but I cannot bring myself to be so base!” This was clearly an insult calling them base... Several of the younger members in the hall could not contain themselves and started to jump forward.

“I repeatedly announced my identity, requesting an audience to explain matters properly, and what was the result? You sent out a drunkard who spoke no sensible word and instead struck my maid and me!

Even after all that, you expect me to be polite? I tell you, there will be no pleasantries!” Qi Yue shouted, her brows fiercely furrowed.

That ugly woman is so fierce... Fan Yilin clutched his clothes tighter, watching Qi Yue with trepidation.

He had firmly resolved that even if his wife cried herself to death, he would never set foot in the Yongqing Residence again as long as he lived.