บท 7: It Can't Happen
Jiang Yukang finished his drink, stood up and said "The elders will come with betrothal gifts next week for Feng Ruoxi." Feng Zhengzhi, the patriarch, was so stunned his face went pale and he felt like the floor had dropped out beneath him. How could this be? Feng Zhaoxuan felt a surge of excitement that at least his troublesome daughter was the chosen one, but he swiftly tamped it down, not daring to show even a hint of satisfaction lest he provoke the wrath of the rest of the family. His brother, Feng Guiren, could not contain his blazing anger as his face flushed crimson and his fists clenched. "Impossible!" he bellowed.
Jiang Yukang, who was walking away, stopped in his tracks and turned slowly, leveling a frosty stare at Feng Guiren that seemed to freeze the very air. A shiver of primal fear lanced down Feng Guiren's spine as those penetrating obsidian eyes bored into him. "Are you questioning my decision, Second Young Master Feng?" Jiang Yukang's voice was soft, yet carried and unmistakable undercurrent of menace.
Feng Guiren felt the blood drain from his face as he gave an instinctive backward step. "N-No no, my apologies Young Master Jiang," he stammered, suddenly feeling like a misbehaving child before this man's overwhelming presence.
Jiang Yukang's features remained utterly impassive. "As per agreement, the bride will move to her marital home once the marriage is registered. I would be happy if this is done quickly."
Sweat began to bead on Feng Zhengzhi's brow as he managed to find his voice. "Yes yes of course, please send my thanks to your grandfather." He issued a small, obsequious bow, horror churning in his gut. How had this gone so awry?
Jiang Yukang offered a curt nod and turned on his heel, striding from the room with that same aura of commanding presence. The dining room was plunged into an agonizing silence for nearly two full minutes after his departure. It felt as if the air itself had solidified into lead, rendering them all motionless and muted beneath its stifling weight.
Finally, it was Feng Meiling who shattered that tense vacuum with a strangled gasp of disbelief. "How can this be? How can this plain Jane be the one picked by Master Jiang?" she cried, anguish and humiliation lending a shrill edge to her words.
"She must have bewitched him with those eyes," Feng Xiuying snapped, her beautiful features contorted into an ugly mask of impotent fury as she wheeled on her younger cousin.
Feng Ruoxi, utterly unruffled by their melodramatic outbursts, merely raised her head with glacial slowness. For an endless instant, she regarded Feng Xiuying through narrowed obsidian pools utterly devoid of emotion. Then, with infuriating nonchalance, she snorted derisively and resumed her composed consumption of the rapidly cooling meal.
"What...what is that about?" Feng Airi stammered, her youthful features paling as apprehension stole over her. This entire situation had taken on such an unsettling, unnatural tenor.
Unfazed, Feng Ruoxi swallowed another measured bite before replying in a tone of bored indifference that somehow managed to grate against their very nerves with its arrogant mocking. "After all that fawning, your faces should be tired from the fake smiles you had on."
White-hot anger lanced through Zhang Lihua's veins as the humiliated aunt balled her fists with impotent rage. "Don't talk to my daughters like that, you insolent brat!" she shrieked, spittle flying from her pursed lips.
"Dad, you have to do something," Feng Guiren implored, desperation and resentment twisting his expression into an ugly snarl. "This girl will embarrass our family there!"
Shock and dismay roiled through Feng Zhengzhi as he struggled to process this catastrophic turn of events. Nothing could have prepared the aging patriarch for such a devastating unraveling of his meticulously cultivated ambitions. To have the elusive holy grail of a foothold amongst the Jiang elders delivered, only to be inexplicably bestowed upon that wretched, undeserving waif of a daughter? It was beyond galling.
But...perhaps not beyond salvaging, the ember of desperate calculation flickered to belated life within his cunning mind. If he could somehow sway the venerable Old Master's whims, a reprieve might yet be snatched from the smoldering ashes of this debacle.
"I...I have to do something," Feng Zhengzhi nodded firmly, mustering a veneer of emboldened resolve despite the uncertainty churning in his gut. "I will try and talk to Old Master Jiang. Perhaps he can change his grandson's decision."
Instantly seizing upon this ember of hope, Feng Zhaoxuan interjected with ill-concealed eagerness, "But my daughter is still a Feng too, right?"
His wife, Qiao Yingyao, scoffed with withering derision, nostrils flaring in undisguised contempt. "She fails school, she has no manners or any form of respect. Hubby, the only thing she will do is embarrass us," the disdainful stepmother sneered.
Outrage surged through Feng Ruoxi's breast like molten lava at this latest cutting barb. Rising with a sinuous, predatory grace utterly at odds with her diminutive stature, she prowled around the table until drawing parallel to her stepmother. When next she spoke, her normally impassive voice carried an edge of blistering venom that could not be ignored.
"What step mom, irritated that you never had a daughter of your own to lavish with real maternal affection?" she practically purred, obsidian eyes glittering dangerously from beneath her lashes. "Is breeding spiteful, hollow shells of children the closest you could grasp to genuine progeny, hmm? How utterly...tragic."
A collective intake of shocked breaths greeted this unforgivable transgression as all eyes swiveled toward the bristling woman. Qiao Yingyao's complexion blanched then flushed in rapid succession, the outraged blotches of crimson clashing grotesquely with her meticulously cultivated beauty. Before she could unleash her inevitable torrent of outraged condemnation, however, Feng Zhengzhi's thunderous bellow cleaved through the thickening tensions.
"SILENCE!" The patriarch roared, his face purpling with apoplectic fury. Rounding on his disgraced daughter with murderous eyes, he jabbed an imperious finger directly at Feng Ruoxi's unwavering countenance. "You will do well to remember your place in this household, girl! I will not see your wanton disrespect permitted to threaten this unprecedented opportunity to unite our bloodline with the Jiang dynasty's hallowed ranks!"
Pivoting once more to address the other assembled relatives, Feng Zhengzhi drew himself up with a show of righteous, unyielding authority that dared any to challenge his pronouncements.
"I shall endeavor to salvage this regrettable situation through whatever channels remain," he decreed in tones that brooked no argument. "For the Jiang heir has clearly fallen prey to some momentary lapse of reason in bestowing his coveted favor upon this unworthy subject."
Inhaling a deep steadying breath, the patriarch's features settled into grim, resolute lines as he locked eyes with his seething brother once more. "Until such a time as this affliction can be rectified, however, we must conduct ourselves with the utmost discretion and outward propriety. The shattering of this alliance must be pursued with finesse, lest we risk igniting the Jiang elders' wrath through overt insult or defiance."
A heavy, portentous pause ensued, during which Feng Guiren could only nod his begrudging acquiescence - an acknowledgment of the fragile tightrope they all must now walk in the wake of this catastrophe. At length, the beleaguered patriarch released a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping with the weight of this unexpected burden.
A muscle twitched spasmodically in the patriarch's weathered jaw as his gaze bored into his granddaughter with naked loathing. For her part, Feng Ruoxi met that virulent stare with an equanimity that bordered on taunting indifference, seemingly unbothered by the maelstrom of resentment swirling around her slight form.
As the others bristled and seethed in impotent furor, a single figure remained conspicuously exempt from the venom saturating the atmosphere. Feng Zhaoxuan observed the unfolding drama with an inscrutable mask of composure, his eyes glittering with the faintest undertone of...vindication? Paternal pride? Whatever elusive nuance lurked there remained obscured beneath his impassive veneer.
At length, the beleaguered patriarch raised a quelling hand, his voice settling into a tone of restrained pragmatism that brooked no further arguments or petulant displays.
"Feng Guiren, you shall accompany me to the Jiang estate on the morrow," he decreed. "We shall extend our earnest assurances of Ruoxi's imminent preparation, and appeal to whatever reservoirs of amicability might yet remain within the venerable Master's esteem."
Sweeping his smoldering gaze over the assembled relatives once more, Feng Zhengzhi's expression settled into grim, unyielding lines.
"Make no mistake - this unfortunate circumstance shall be rectified through prudent diplomacy and whatever final recourses available to us. Even if it requires extracting the favor I am owed from the Jiang elders themselves."
The barest undercurrent of menace threaded through his words, igniting a spark of grudging apprehension amidst Feng Ruoxi's otherwise unwavering poise.
Whatever ploys and machinations her elders and spurned cousins might be plotting, the lingering reality was stark - they would stop at nothing to undermine this unexpected reversal of her lowly fortunes, even if it meant bartering their long-hoarded leverage with the illustrious Jiang dynasty itself.
For now, she remained the unlikely vanguard of their disparate ambitions. But the moment that ceased being an advantageous prospect, Feng Ruoxi knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would become little more than a sacrificial offering upon the altar of their greed and wounded pride.
As her obsidian eyes met the simmering malevolence burning in those of her outraged kinsmen, a razor's edge of determination ignited within their fathomless depths. Let them weave whatever webs of treachery and disloyalty they fancied - she would remain ever vigilant, ever poised to counter their self-serving machinations with a ferocity that would reduce their paltry ambitions to smoldering ash.
A storm of cataclysmic proportions was brewing on the horizon, and Feng Ruoxi had no intention of permitting herself or that elusive, simmering presence from her other life to be swept away by its ruinous tides. They would endure and overcome, even if it meant razing the foundations of both their worlds in order to forge an unshakable dynasty from the rubble.
Obsidian and simmering embers met with the fleeting dance of acknowledgment - a vow to persevere at any cost, for the battle lines had been indelibly drawn. There would be no quarter asked or given, only an ultimate victory whose spoils would echo through eternity's annals.
The age of upheaval had arrived. And two unstoppable juggernauts prepared to ride its roiling currents to glory everlasting - assuming they managed to survive its calamitous unveiling.
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