The ruler was thrown to the ground with a dull sound.
Sang Wenyin curled up on the ground, holding her useless hand. Her whole body was twitching in pain, and a hoarse sound came from her throat. She didn't even have the strength to cry out.
Scholar Sang lowered his eyelids as he looked at his daughter lying on the ground in a mess. His voice was calm, yet he pronounced the final result:
"From today on, lock her up in the Snow Garden in the far corner of the back garden. Nail the windows shut, lock the door, and no one is allowed to approach except a mute woman who brings her food!"
"Three days later," he paused, each word like ice chips, "Send Doctor Wang with some abortion pills! We must abort that bastard in her belly! We must!"
When Mrs. Sang heard the word "abort", her body shook violently, but she did not beg for mercy in the end. She just closed her eyes in despair.
Sang Wenyin was struck by lightning. She forgot about the severe pain in her hands and just covered her lower abdomen tightly, her eyes empty and frightened.
Finally, Grand Secretary Sang looked at Madam Sang with a look of complete despair: "Madam, your distant nephew, the one from Elm Lane, I think he's almost thirty, and he still hasn't married?"
Mrs. Sang looked up suddenly, her eyes full of disbelief and pain.
"Once you've cleaned the dirt out of her body," Grand Secretary Sang continued his sentence expressionlessly, "get ready and send her over. Spread the news..."
He took a deep breath and uttered icy words, "Sang Wenyin was shameless and violated family rules, and was executed by family law a month ago!"
"After she's sent away, there's no Sang Wenyin in the Sang family anymore!"
…
In the northwest corner of the Sang Mansion, there is a forgotten courtyard.
Taxueyuan - this originally poetic and elegant name, now reflected in Sang Wenyin's eyes, is only filled with bleak irony.
The courtyard walls were mottled, with dead vines crawling in the corners. The mulberry paper covering the window frames was mostly torn, and the cold wind seeped in through the holes, making a whimpering sound.
The room only contained the simplest bed, table and chairs. It was cold and uncomfortable, and had a stale smell that seemed to indicate that no one had lived there for a long time.
Even the bronze mirror was covered with thick dust, as if deliberately avoiding reflecting her current state of disgrace.
She used to be a pampered young lady in the Sang family, surrounded by maids, wearing brocade and pearls.
Now, all she has left is a half-worn coarse cotton skirt, and she is so cold that she huddles in a thin quilt.
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