Spoiled and mad critic of powerful ministers

In front of Zhao Qiyan and Shen Huaifeng, he made no attempt to hide his true feelings, his eyes revealing an undeniable obsession.

"Without me, you can't defeat Wen Xiujie. He still has a backup plan in the capital."

"And..." he leaned down slightly and said in a voice only the two of them could hear, "If you leave me alone at home, I'll go crazy."

Shen Qiongju looked into his unfathomable eyes, and her heart skipped a beat.

She knew he was serious.

"Alright." Shen Qiongju took a deep breath and gave in. "Then let's go to the capital together."

"We'll fight this battle together."

Zhao Qiyan watched the two staring at each other, oblivious to everyone else, and felt a pang of unease. He shuddered, got goosebumps, and yelled, "Alright, alright! Now that it's decided, let's get moving! I'll go arrange the boats right now—the biggest, most stable kind!"

On a snowy night, the distillery in Chenjia Village was bustling with activity once again.

As Shen Qiongju watched Pei Zhihui's composed and decisive figure, the heavy weight that had been hanging over her heart finally settled down.

.

On a cold winter morning, before the fog had dissipated, the gate of the ancestral hall in Shenjia Village was heavily pushed open.

The heavy wooden door hinges creaked loudly, startling a few crows that had been perched on a withered tree.

Inside the ancestral hall of Shenjia Village, hundreds of ancestral tablets are neatly arranged on the offering table. The incense burner is filled with thick layers of ash, and wisps of smoke rise up, mixed with the musty smell of old wood, making it hard to breathe.

More than a hundred people from Shenjia Village, regardless of age or gender, were crowded in the open space outside the ancestral hall.

No one spoke; even the children who usually cried were ordered by the adults to remain silent.

All eyes were focused on the woman kneeling in the center of the ancestral hall.

Chunxing was bound hand and foot, her hair disheveled, and she looked utterly despondent.

She huddled up, shivering from the cold, mumbling incoherently, "Have mercy... I didn't mean to."

Shen Qiongju sat on a chair to the side, holding a hand warmer in her hands, her expression calm and revealing no emotion.

Pei Zhihui sat beside her, wearing a heavy fox fur coat. His face was as pale as paper, but his narrow phoenix eyes were slightly narrowed, revealing a chilling gloom.

"Thump!"

The third uncle's cane slammed heavily on the bluestone slab, making a dull thud.

The old man had white hair and beard, and a hunched back, but today his deeply lined face held an unprecedented air of authority.

He walked shakily to Chunxing, pointed at her nose, his hand trembling like a withered leaf in the wind.

"Chunxing, lift your head!"

Third Uncle's voice was hoarse, yet filled with thunderous rage, "Look at our ancestors above! And look at these villagers standing outside!"

Chunxing didn't dare to look up, but pressed her forehead tightly against the cold ground and cried out.

"You're crying? You still have the nerve to cry?"

The third uncle's chest heaved violently with anger. He turned to face the clansmen outside the door, and his voice suddenly rose:

"Fellow villagers, what kind of life did our Shenjia Village live in the past?"

A stir ran through the crowd, and many elderly people lowered their heads, their eyes reddening.

"A year ago, there were a few similar heavy snowfalls," Uncle San gestured with his withered fingers. "Three elderly people froze to death and two children starved to death in our village! To get food, we had no choice but to sell our own daughters to matchmakers and send our able-bodied men to the border for hard labor!"

"Was that kind of life even human? It was like risking your life, barely scraping by, not knowing where you'd eat!"

The old man's voice echoed in the empty ancestral hall, each word filled with sorrow.

"But what about now?"

The third uncle abruptly changed the subject, pointing sharply at Shen Qiongju, "Ever since Qiongju opened this winery, you all should examine your consciences and your own bellies!"

"The men of our village no longer need to leave their homes to work on the frontier! The women of our village no longer need to serve those thugs in the laundry room of Dabao Village!"

"Even during the Spring Festival, which family didn't receive pork? Which child didn't wear a new cotton-padded jacket?"

In the crowd, a woman holding a child suddenly burst into tears: "Yes... my Er Gouzi is so old, and this is the first time he's ever eaten a meat bun. It's a blessing from Master Shen!"

"My husband broke his leg, and it was the employer who paid for his treatment..."

A chorus of agreement rose and fell, and the previously subdued crowd began to stir, a mixture of gratitude and indignation.

Third Uncle tapped his cane again, silencing the crowd.

He turned around, staring intently at Chunxing, his eyes sharp as knives: "We're living such a good life all thanks to the Shen family's distillery! The distillery is the lifeblood of our Shen family village, our very lifeline!"

"But what about you? For that little bit of dirty money, for that promise that can never be kept, you dare to poison the wine jar! You're going to ruin the livelihoods of the whole village, you're going to drive us back to the brink of despair!"

"Kill her! Kill this traitor!"

Someone shouted something, and the crowd instantly erupted in chaos.

Several strong young men, their eyes red with rage, were about to rush inside, as if they wanted to devour Chunxing whole.

In their eyes, cutting off someone's livelihood is like killing their parents. Chunxing didn't just ruin the wine; she ruined the path to survival they had just seen.

"Quiet!"

Shen Qiongju suddenly spoke.

Her voice wasn't loud, but it was clear and cool, yet it instantly silenced the boisterous crowd.

She slowly stood up and walked to Chunxing.

Hearing the shouts and cries of battle around her, Chunxing was already terrified. Seeing Shen Qiongju approaching, she grasped at a straw and frantically kowtowed, "Miss... Master! I was wrong! I really know I was wrong! Please, for Xiaohu's sake..."

"I've already had someone bring Xiao Hu back," Shen Qiongju said calmly.

Chunxing was stunned, then looked up abruptly, her eyes filled with disbelief.

"The child is innocent, I won't touch him." Shen Qiongju looked down at her, "But you did something wrong, so you have to accept the punishment."

She turned to her third uncle and asked, "Third Uncle, according to clan rules, what is the punishment for betraying one's master for personal gain?"

Third Uncle gritted his teeth: "At best, they'll be expelled from the clan; at worst, they'll be beaten to death!"

Chunxing's body went limp and she collapsed to the ground.

"Considering that she was also deceived and has young children at home," Shen Qiongju said calmly, "her death sentence can be waived."

Upon hearing this, Pei Zhihui raised an eyebrow and tapped lightly on the hand warmer with his fingertips.

As expected of his sister-in-law, her heart softened a bit.

But the next second, Shen Qiongju changed the subject:

"But she cannot escape punishment. From this day forward, Chunxing and her family are forever forbidden from working at the Shen family's winery. She is punished by sweeping and cleaning the ancestral hall for a year, repenting before the ancestors every day. If she misbehaves again, there will be no leniency!"

The punishment doesn't sound severe; there's no beating or jail time.

But for a village woman, being criticized and gossiped about by the whole village while sweeping the ancestral hall is not a pleasant experience.