Oops! The Black Lotus Can’t Be a Female Supporting Character

CHAPTER 65

Madam She’s shrill voice echoed repeatedly in everyone’s ears.

“A concubine’s daughter?!” The young scholar in green narrowed his slender eyes, repeating the words in disbelief. He couldn’t bring himself to say the vulgar phrase — “wretched bastard born of a concubine!”

“That can’t be right.” The blue-robed scholar with a short beard frowned deeply. “Wasn’t the eldest Miss Xiao the legitimate daughter of the Marquis of Wu’an’s wife?”

No matter how angry Madam She might be, surely she wouldn’t insult her own niece by calling her sister-in-law’s daughter a bastard, right in front of her!

“Marchioness,” Liang Zheng approached the carriage and bowed politely to Madam Yin, who stood upon the stone steps. “Marchioness, what does she mean by this? Please, make yourself clear.”

As he spoke, his gaze flickered toward Xiao Luanfei. His expression was complicated; his eyes dark as deep water.

He was not a fool. Having served in the palace for decades, he had witnessed countless secrets and scandals. But even he was taken aback by what had just happened. Xiao Luanfei truly proved that appearances could be deceiving. If His Majesty were to learn of this…

Madam Yin gently patted Xiao Yanfei’s shoulder again, shielding her daughter protectively from the crowd’s gaze. Her eyes, however, fixed on Xiao Luanfei at the foot of the stone steps as she said softly, “Luanfei…”

“Mother!” Xiao Luanfei’s voice trembled as she called out, her eyes pleading.

Her clear, tearful eyes shimmered as though they contained endless unspoken words.

In the past, whenever she looked at her mother that way, Madam Yin would relent — she would protect her, indulge her, cradle her lovingly, and call her affectionately: My dear Luan’er.

But this time, Madam Yin’s tone was calm as she continued, “…She was born of Concubine Cui, my husband’s mistress.”

Her voice was steady, neither loud nor soft, without the faintest ripple of emotion. Her gaze upon Xiao Luanfei was detached — as if she were looking at a stranger.

The words struck Xiao Luanfei like a resounding slap.

That can’t be right, thought Liang Zheng, momentarily stunned.

Ever since Gao had been taken away by the Crown Prince, Liang Zheng had become the emperor’s most trusted attendant. He knew the affairs of most noble families well enough — especially that of the Marquis of Wu’an, for the Crown Prince’s beloved was none other than Miss Xiao. He had made sure to understand her background in case the emperor ever asked about it.

He remembered it clearly—

“Wasn’t the eldest Miss Xiao born of the Marquis’s wife?” Liang Zheng asked directly, his expression solemn.

Xiao Luanfei was supposed to be the legitimate eldest daughter — how could that be wrong?!

Silence fell.

Every sound vanished, save for the rustle of tree branches above the alley.

All eyes turned to Madam Yin, breath held, waiting.

Graceful and composed, Madam Yin stood against the breeze and repeated clearly, “Xiao Luanfei was born of Concubine Cui.”

After a brief pause, she added, “She is a concubine’s daughter.”

Each word was crisp and unambiguous, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

“…” Xiao Luanfei’s vision blurred. She bit her dry, cracked lips, breathing heavily, her face full of humiliation and hurt — as though she had been stripped bare before the watching crowd, left with nowhere to hide.

“What about the second young lady then?” Liang Zheng pressed, though his heart already harbored a wild suspicion. It seemed impossible — unthinkable — yet…

“Yanfei is my true daughter,” Madam Yin said, pulling her slender-shouldered girl closer.

This — this was her precious child, her flesh and blood.

“Hah!” Madam She quickly stepped forward, sneering as she added, “That wretched concubine Cui was vile beyond measure — she switched my poor niece with her own illegitimate child!”

“My poor niece suffered so much because of her! Bullied and trampled upon from a young age, while this concubine-born girl lived high and mighty in her place!”

Madam She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, her voice thick with feigned grief, before jabbing a trembling finger toward Xiao Luanfei. “This shameless girl has always looked down on others — always trying to crush my poor niece beneath her heel! Now that the truth is out, she still refuses to stop, even daring to slander my niece to ruin her name!”

“Ah, to think such shameless people exist in this world!”

The crowd fell utterly silent — even the branches above seemed to still.

Time itself seemed frozen.

When the truth struck, Liang Zheng felt as though lightning had split his mind.

The onlookers were equally stunned, their faces blank with shock.

Liang Zheng’s thoughts were a whirl.

He served close to the throne; few of the Emperor’s or Empress’s decisions escaped his notice. He knew they had already decided to betroth Xiao Luanfei to the Crown Prince as his primary consort.

That was why the emperor had sent him here today — to deliver rewards to the Yin household, hoping the two sisters would remain harmonious, that Second Miss Xiao might assist her elder sister in the future, binding the Duke of Wei’s household firmly to the Crown Prince’s side.

But now…

He glanced at Xiao Luanfei’s pale, disheveled, and desperate face and felt an urgent need to compose himself.

He had to report this to His Majesty — immediately.

Steadying his voice, he bowed deeply to Madam Yin. “Madam Yin, I must return to the palace to make my report. I shall take my leave.”

With that, Liang Zheng swiftly boarded the carriage.

“Liang…” Xiao Luanfei’s lips parted soundlessly. She wanted to call out to him — but reason told her it was useless.

If Liang Zheng knew of her true parentage, the Emperor and Empress would know soon enough.

She dared not imagine what would come next. Pain tightened her chest until her body curled in on itself.

“Mother!” Xiao Luanfei cried, her face drained of color, her voice broken with anguish. “I’ve called you ‘mother’ all these years — have you no pity for our bond? Must you destroy me to find peace?!”

It had been Concubine Cui who switched the babies back then. She had been a newborn — innocent, unaware of everything.

Why must all the hatred fall upon her?

“It was all Concubine Cui’s doing! Why… why must you be so cruel to me? So merciless!”

By the final word, her voice was hoarse, as though she were crying out all the bitterness and sorrow of two lifetimes. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks.

It had been the same in her past life.

At thirteen, when she had learned the truth, her world had collapsed — everything she had was gone in an instant. She had been innocent, utterly innocent!

In this life, she had clawed her way back up, step by step, until she stood within reach of the Crown Princess’s seat. She had never asked Madam Yin for love — only that she keep the secret buried.

But Madam Yin… why must she be so heartless? Why destroy her again?

The young girl wept, fragile and pitiful, tears like pearls upon her pale face — so moving that a few scholars nearby could not help but feel sympathy stir within them.

Indeed, the one who switched the children had not been Miss Xiao herself.

The green-robed scholar, long-browed and sharp-eyed, finally spoke up, “Madam Yin, aren’t you being too cruel? Even if she’s a concubine’s daughter, a mother should not expose her child’s shame before the crowd.”

To humiliate a girl she had raised for fifteen years, in front of everyone — it was heartless beyond measure.

Madam Yin did not even glance his way. Her gaze stayed fixed on Luanfei’s face as she lifted her chin slightly and asked coldly, “Did I summon you here?”

Xiao Luanfei had no right to accuse her of cruelty — she had come here of her own accord, to kneel and make a scene.

Her words were not just for Xiao Luanfei, but also for that meddlesome scholar, who turned pale at the rebuke.

“Mother, I only wanted to bring you home,” Xiao Luanfei whispered, her voice soft with pain and grievance.

Madam Yin would have to return to the Marquis’s residence eventually — she was merely offering her a way to save face. Why couldn’t her mother accept it? She meant no harm.

But Madam Yin’s expression remained unmoved. “You came here to create a scene — and now you blame me for not sparing you?”

Her voice sharpened, eyes glinting coldly. “You stabbed me with a knife — should I thank you for it?”

In truth, Madam Yin’s composure was only on the surface; her heart was anything but calm.

She had wanted to tell the truth from the moment she found out — to let everyone know that Xiao Yanfei was her real daughter.

She had already missed fifteen years of her child’s life.

But her father had urged her to wait — the time was not yet right.

Only now did she finally understand why.

“Mother, how could you misunderstand me like this…” Xiao Luanfei’s trembling voice cracked. It was as though Madam Yin had stabbed her twice over; her pale cheeks flushed scarlet, and her eyes shimmered with desolation.

Grief and indignation surged through her chest, only to be swallowed by a crushing wave of helplessness and defeat. Her knees felt weak, her body swaying as if she might collapse.

Madam Yin gazed at Xiao Luanfei, her heart frozen over.

The deeper her love for this girl she had raised with her own hands once ran, the colder her heart had now become.

Xiao Luanfei accused her of showing no motherly affection — yet she herself had long known the truth of her own birth. She had stood by and watched as Concubine Cui tormented Yanfei; she had known that Yin Huan plotted against her father, yet said nothing; and for the sake of becoming the Crown Prince’s consort, she had deliberately caused such a public scene today…

Madam Yin’s cold eyes swept over the surrounding scholars. Her mind was clear as glass — their presence here was no coincidence.

This so-called daughter of hers had never truly regarded her as a mother. She cared only for herself — just like her birth mother — greedy, calculating, and self-serving!

Her voice grew icier, sharper with every word: “Xiao Luanfei, your mother stole my child and let her suffer for fifteen years — and you call yourself the victim?”

“No one has wronged you!”

“When you dined on delicacies and wore fine silk, my daughter was deprived by your mother, eating coarse rice and plain vegetables.”

“While you learned the zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting, my daughter was forced to copy sutras — one after another, day after day.”

“You grew up healthy and safe, while my daughter was frail since birth, barely escaping death several times.”

“I treated you like a pearl in my palm, wishing to give you the best of everything this world could offer. Yet your mother — she tormented my child, even forcing her to take punishment in her stead.”

“…”

Unlike Xiao Luanfei, who always spoke in vague half-truths to elicit sympathy, Madam Yin’s words were clear and precise, each one heavy with truth.

Again and again, Xiao Luanfei cried out “Mother!” trying to interrupt her, but Madam Yin refused to hear another excuse. She spoke on, steady and unyielding.

Her every word rang firm and true — neither exaggerated nor embellished — yet with a sincerity that struck straight to the heart. With each sentence, the color drained further from Xiao Luanfei’s face.

Meanwhile, Xiao Yanfei, who had been suppressing a smile, slowly lost all trace of amusement. A deep ache welled up in her chest, her eyes stinging and misting over.

She could feel the buried grievances of the original self whose body she now inhabited — the years of silent endurance, misunderstood by everyone, while all believed Concubine Cui treated her kindly.

So… Madam Yin had known all along.

Xiao Yanfei’s vision blurred.

Madam Yin felt a faint dampness seeping through her daughter’s shoulder, and knowing it was from her tears, her heart clenched. She pulled Xiao Yanfei tighter into her embrace.

“Xiao Luanfei,” Madam Yin’s tone hardened, her gaze steady and resolute, “no one has wronged you.”

The only innocent one here was Xiao Yanfei.

It was Xiao Yanfei whom they had all wronged!

Xiao Luanfei’s face was now deathly pale, utterly drained of blood, like a lifeless figure carved in wax.

The watching crowd was moved by Madam Yin’s words — one by one, their murmurs faded into silence, replaced by a quiet, swelling sympathy.

When they turned again toward Xiao Yanfei — weeping softly in her mother’s arms — their hearts were filled with pity.

“That poor Second Miss Xiao!” sighed a plump matron about Madam Yin’s age. “She’s barely of age — stolen from her real mother’s arms as an infant, and raised by a concubine! That’s hardly better than being brought up by a stepmother!”

“Indeed, indeed,” another elderly woman with gray hair quickly agreed. “Just now, that so-called Eldest Miss was saying, ‘Mother loves Second Sister more, I won’t compete with her anymore.’ Hmph! Trying to make it sound like Second Miss was sowing discord between her and Marchioness — how deceitful!”

“She meant to ruin Second Miss’s reputation! How vicious!”

“Shameless!” another onlooker spat indignantly. “Such a scheming girl — truly heartless!”

“The poor Marchioness, separated from her real daughter for more than ten years, only to meet her again as strangers…”

“…”

Even the kindest-hearted among the crowd could not help but feel indignation and sorrow. Mothers especially — their eyes rimmed red as they listened.

They knew what it meant to raise a child — the constant fear of illness, of kidnappers, of harm befalling one’s baby. To have one’s child stolen and mistreated… it was the cruellest pain a mother could endure.

The alley soon erupted again in a wave of clamor.

Words like “usurper,” “shameless girl,” and “bastard born of a whore” rippled through the air.

Some even pointed at Xiao Luanfei in righteous fury, shouting that “the daughter takes after the mother” — both of them equally despicable and shameless!

At that moment, Xiao Luanfei felt as though thousands of arrows had pierced her heart. It was as if she stood naked before the world, whipped again and again by their scorn. Not even in her past life had she suffered such humiliation.

It was as though her very existence had become a mistake — that there was no longer a place for her in this world.

“No…” Xiao Luanfei’s delicate face was streaked with tears, a few loose strands of hair clinging damply to her temples. She shook her head again and again, her voice trembling. “It’s not like that… I’ve always regarded you as my real mother! In my heart, you are—”

“Who are you trying to fool?” Madam She interrupted with a scornful laugh, snorting derisively through her nose before spitting at Xiao Luanfei’s feet. “You really have the gall to play the victim after taking all the benefits!”

“My lady raised you with love for fifteen years, treated you like her own flesh and blood — and how did you repay her? With empty words and crocodile tears? Anyone can talk sweetly when it suits them!”

“You extorted fifty thousand taels from our household, then donated it to buy yourself a virtuous reputation — and still, that wasn’t enough for you! You came here to weep and wail and make a scene — what’s next? Hanging yourself to complete the spectacle?”

“Hah! Heaven’s justice never fails — retribution always comes. Now the truth is out, and everyone’s seen your true colors. You’ve played your game and lost!”

The more Madam She spoke, the more exhilarated she became. Indeed, the teachings of the Scripture on the Retribution of Good and Evil had not deceived her — those who sin will reap what they sow.

“Well said!” an old woman cried, slapping her thigh for emphasis before spitting in Luanfei’s direction. “She really is an ungrateful wretch — a white-eyed wolf through and through!”

“Your mother truly wasted fifteen years raising you.”

“That’s right!” several voices chimed in, indignant and scathing. “Even a dog would wag its tail if you fed it!”

The crowd pointed and jeered at Xiao Luanfei, their contempt palpable. Each face twisted with anger and disdain, as if every one of them wanted to spit at her.

The voices grew louder and sharper, crashing together like furious waves breaking against rocks—relentless, deafening.

Inside the carriage, Liang Zheng slowly lowered the curtain. Behind the fabric came a single, curt word: “Go.”

Crack! The coachman snapped his whip with a sharp cry. The escorting imperial guards immediately began to clear a path, forcing the onlookers to step aside as the carriage rolled forward through the narrow alley.

Xiao Luanfei stood frozen, staring blankly at the retreating carriage. Her body was rigid, her blood rushing painfully to her heart, leaving her whole frame cold and trembling.

Soon, the Emperor would know everything—and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

She didn’t know what awaited her now.

It felt as though she were plummeting through endless darkness, a helpless soul slipping off a cliff into a bottomless abyss.

Despair consumed her whole being.

She had worked so hard—fought so desperately to change her fate—so why was Heaven’s favor always reserved for Xiao Yanfei?

In her past life, it was the same. And now, once again, everything was the same!

Heaven was far too cruel, far too unjust!

Xiao Yanfei didn’t have to do anything. Just because she was born of their mother’s blood, everyone rushed to protect her, to hand her everything she could ever want.

All Xiao Yanfei had to do was cry prettily in her mother’s arms—and the world would forgive her.

What could she do besides being born lucky?

Memories from two lifetimes flashed before Xiao Luanfei’s eyes like a reel of burning film—one after another, repeating endlessly.

Resentment burned in her chest. Hatred swallowed her whole.

The taste of iron rose in her throat, thick and sharp, and she nearly spat blood.

Meanwhile, Xiao Yanfei gently dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief and lifted her head from Madam Yin’s shoulder.

Her eyes were still red from crying, a few loose strands of hair clinging to her temple. Her delicate face looked soft and tender, pitifully beautiful.

Under the brilliant midsummer sun, her features seemed even gentler—like an orchid beaded with morning dew, serene and pure.

What a beauty, people thought.

A beauty who had suffered greatly—but now, at last, the truth had come to light. Her hardships were finally over.

Sympathetic murmurs rippled through the crowd. Many onlookers couldn’t help but sigh at the pitiful Second Miss Xiao.

Having steadied her emotions, Xiao Yanfei tugged lightly at Madam Yin’s sleeve and said softly, “Mother, let’s go inside.” Her voice was clear and melodious, gentle yet firm.

Madam Yin nodded and stroked her daughter’s hair fondly.

Xiao Yanfei took her mother’s arm, her gaze sweeping across the gathered scholars. Several faces were familiar—ones she’d seen before at the Imperial Temple.

Her eyes paused, and her tone turned cold. “It’s right to have compassion,” she said lightly. “But perhaps it’s time you learned to show it to those who actually deserve it—like the people of Youzhou, who died in that tragedy.”

Her words were calm, yet each syllable struck like thunder.

“What do you mean by that?” murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“Who’s she saying sympathized with the bandits?”

All eyes turned toward the group of scholars led by the man in the blue robe—some looks were suspicious, others filled with contempt.

Xiao Yanfei continued evenly, “Only the people of Youzhou have the right to decide whether to forgive.”

“As for the rest of you—” her gaze swept across them like a blade “—you are not worthy.”

The air froze. It felt as though a sudden gust of icy wind had swept through the street.

The scholars’ faces drained of color. One of them stammered, “We—we were only saying…”

He tried to argue, but his words faltered, his eyes darting nervously.

The man in blue, however, stiffened his neck and snapped, “I said nothing wrong! You don’t understand—those bandits were once ordinary folk too. They were starving, desperate! Driven to the edge! If the people of Youzhou had just shared what little food they had, the bandits wouldn’t have—”

Before he could finish, a ragged middle-aged man suddenly lunged out from the crowd and slammed his fist into the scholar’s left eye, cutting him off mid-sentence.

The scholar staggered backward with a muffled grunt, clutching his bruised eye as his companions rushed to support him.

The attacker—thin, filthy, and dressed in rags—was clearly one of the refugees who had fled to the capital.

His eyes burned red as he roared, “You’re saying my parents were killed because they didn’t feed the bandits?!”

“You think my daughter-in-law deserved to be bullied?”

“I’ll beat you to death!”

The middle-aged man grew angrier by the second. He swung again with all his strength and landed another heavy blow on the scholar in the green robe.

The scholar let out a pained cry as his face contorted; a front tooth flew from his mouth and clattered to the ground, blood mixing with enamel on the cobbles.

No one rushed to his aid. If anything, a few onlookers broke into applause and cheers.

Xiao Yanfei shook her head with a soft sigh. “Do you who live in comfort in the capital think you have the right to judge the suffering of the people of Youzhou from your full stomachs?”

“These days the Yin family has been handing out porridge in the street every day. This is the hour the refugees come for bread and a bowl of gruel. Many of them will line up here for a single steamed bun, a single bowl of porridge.”

“You, who have been cooped in study halls and fed well, dare to pontificate from on high — but do you have the courage to say these same words to the refugees’ faces?”

At that moment an elderly woman in a gray robe—herself gaunt and travel-worn—stepped forward from the crowd, fury and grief written on every line of her face. She glared at the group of scholars and spat, “My girl is only twelve.”

“They called her ‘a two-legged goat’.”

“You say they were starving, so my child deserved what happened to her?”

Her teeth were clenched; her eyes were raw with tears. Speaking of those brutal bandits, one could see she wished she might tear them apart with her own hands.

The ordinary townsfolk behind her listened in stunned sympathy; their own eyes grew wet. When disaster and war strike, it is always people like them—simple, helpless folk—who suffer first.

Xiao Yanfei’s gaze slid back to where Xiao Luanfei stood. With a look that cut, she said, “The misery of Youzhou’s people should never be turned into a means for self-promotion.”

Xiao Luanfei: “…”

Her face drained of color—shame, panic, and fury surged so hotly through her that her reason dissolved; there was only one blazing thought in her mind: it’s all Xiao Yanfei’s fault!

With a cry, Xiao Luanfei threw up her hand and lunged toward Xiao Yanfei.

***