Vol. 2 - Ch. 66 - My Name Is Chen Lian 

My name is Chen Lian.

Yes.

My surname is Chen.

Not Qiong.

After I left the Qiong family, I was no longer a Qiong.

For the rest of my life, I will live for one purpose only — to kill that man.

I will kill that man.

If not for him, my mother wouldn’t have died.

I hate him.

Back then—

Even though I was the second young miss of the Qiong family, everyone in the household, except for Grandmother, treated my mother and me with cold indifference.

Because my mother was merely a concubine.

She had once been the personal maid of the main wife of Qiong Longshan.

The year before I was born, the main wife fell ill and passed away.

Qiong Longshan was devastated. One night, drunk and grief-stricken, he violated my mother.

When he sobered up, he took her in as a concubine.

The following year, I was born.

But because my mother came from lowly origins — just a maid — and gave birth only to a daughter as a concubine...

My mother and I were always targets of ridicule in the Qiong household.

People whispered nasty things. They said my mother seduced her master to rise in status.

Their words were cruel. Vicious.

My mother bore it all in silence.

In the early years, perhaps because she had once served the main wife, Qiong Longshan showed her some unusual kindness.

He would often visit her, and he treated me decently too.

At the time, I liked him very much.

But then, the Haijing Gang began to grow, its territory expanding.

When growth stalled, Qiong Longshan, for the sake of power and reputation, married the younger sister of another gang leader.

That union merged two gangs into one.

The Haijing Gang flourished.

And along with it—

A new main wife came to the Qiong household: Wang Xiao.

Wang Xiao came from a martial arts family. She was fierce and domineering.

At first, she was polite to my mother.

But as Qiong Longshan continued to visit my mother, jealousy burned hot in Wang Xiao’s heart.

Wang Xiao—she was a jealous woman.

In her second year in the house, she bore a son.

With a son born, she acted as if she’d received a royal pardon and became increasingly arrogant.

She constantly picked faults with my mother, found reasons to make trouble.

Wang Xiao was the wife. My mother, only a concubine.

So my mother endured. Obeyed.

As time went on, Wang Xiao’s behavior grew more unrestrained.

Even my mother’s monthly allowance was docked.

Yet my mother said nothing. Endured it all.

Until that day—

Qiong Longshan had gone out on gang business.

Before he left, he spent three nights in my mother’s room.

Wang Xiao saw it. Her jealousy turned to wildfire, burning uncontrollably.

After he left—

She brought people from her natal family and dragged my mother away. Then, she slashed her face with a knife.

Afterward, she felt a tinge of guilt. Maybe fear.

So she claimed to be visiting her family and took her child with her.

When Qiong Longshan returned and heard what happened, he hadn’t even had time to comfort my mother before gang affairs pulled him away again.

I will never forget that day.

Because that was the day I lost my mother.

The moon that night was full.

The moonlight was so bright, it lit the ground like daytime.

My mother had bandages on her face. She sat at the table, an oil lamp flickering beside her.

She was sewing a pair of cloth shoes — for Qiong Longshan.

She was almost finished.

That night, she sewed all the way until midnight.

I wanted to help, but she refused.

She told me to sleep early.

No need to wait for her.

It was so late that I was terribly sleepy, so I went to bed.

I closed my eyes — I don’t know how long passed.

My mother came to my bedside, tucked me in, and gently stroked my face.

I opened my eyes, still groggy.

Through the haze, I saw her bandaged face and smelled the faint scent of osmanthus on her.

She smiled and whispered, “Sleep. Everything’s okay.”

I murmured an “Mm,” closed my eyes, and drifted off again.

It didn’t feel like long before someone pulled me out of bed.

It was the steward of the Qiong household — a mean-spirited old man.

He told me to go to the front yard.

I looked around.

My mother wasn’t there.

On the wooden table sat the pair of cloth shoes she’d sewn.

In that moment, an inexplicable panic welled up in my heart.

When I followed the steward out front, I saw it.

A corpse — soaked from head to toe — lying in the courtyard.

It was dressed in my mother’s clothes.

Everything went black.

I remembered nothing after that.

Later, Qiong Longshan returned and arranged a funeral.

He stormed into Wang Xiao’s room, wanting to confront her.

But she had already gone back to her family home to escape blame.

Qiong Longshan sent people to bring her back and confined her for half a year.

And that was it.

No further punishment.

Six months later, she returned to acting like the gentle lady of the house, as if none of it had ever happened.

When she saw me, her eyes still carried malice — and smug satisfaction.

Six months of confinement—

That was all it took to cost my mother her life.

Hahahahaha…

So this is what Qiong Longshan calls “justice.”

So fair. Truly fair.

I hate Wang Xiao. But I hate him even more!

I took the little silver my mother left behind and left the Qiong household.

That day I left, I swore—

I will kill Qiong Longshan.

No matter what.

To get revenge, I must learn martial arts.

I didn’t know what realm of martial arts he had reached — only that he was terrifyingly strong.

To train, I couldn’t stay in Fujian. The Haijing Gang’s reach now blanketed the province.

If I stayed, I’d be caught.

So I headed north to Zhejiang, with barely any money.

After days of walking, my funds ran dry.

I did odd jobs along the way — laundry, cooking — for meager pay.

Eventually, I learned of the martial world — jianghu.

There were sects that took in disciples and taught martial skills.

Among them, the Emei and Hengshan sects were renowned — and only took women.

I wanted to join one of them. Learn the arts. Become strong.

Then kill him.

But fate is cruel.

That day, I was walking alone along a government road outside Yuhang County, my face covered in wet mud.

Days in the martial world had taught me — beauty invites trouble.

I had to stay alert. Stay guarded.

As I walked, clutching what little coin I had left, I knew traveling to Emei or Hengshan would cost more than I had.

I needed a place to rest. To earn. To save.

Just as I was thinking that, a shadow flashed across the road.

It was a man — dressed in yellow, lightning-fast on his feet.

In one bound, he had leapt dozens of feet.

Seeing he was a martial artist, I quickly stepped aside.

He held a child in his hand.

The child’s eyes were red and swollen, tears streaking down his face.

His mouth was open — but no sound came.

Later, I found out: someone had struck his mute acupoint.

And soon, the same was done to me.

That man — when he passed — noticed me.

In a blur, he was in front of me.

With a tap of his finger, I was frozen, unable to move — unable to speak.

With his free hand, he grabbed me by the back of my collar and took off.

We flew down the road.

Not long after, he vaulted over a wall into a courtyard.

Inside the main house, the room was divided with wooden fences.

Inside were other children — red-eyed, mouths agape, crying silently.

He threw me and the boy inside.

Then exchanged a few words with another man — and left.

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