Raising the Villain in Wrong Way

"The General?" she asked.

"Yes. And the Eldest Young Master."

Ji’an nodded. "I’ll be there."

She turned back to the kitchen. Xie Wangchen was standing there, his face pale. He knew what this meant. The Family Law.

"Eat the dumplings when they float," Ji’an said calmly, untying her apron. "Don’t wait for me."

"You..." Wangchen hesitated. "The General is frightening. If you go..."

"If I go, I go," Ji’an shrugged, adjusting her cuffs. "If I don’t come back in two hours, the recipe book is under my pillow. Burn it before they find it."

With that dramatic exit line, she turned and walked toward the main mansion, her back straight, looking like a soldier marching to the gallows.

The Hall of Virtuous Peace was designed to intimidate. The ceilings were impossibly high, the pillars wrapped in gold leaf, and the air smelled of oppressive incense.

At the far end, seated on two massive rosewood chairs, were the rulers of the Lin clan.

On the left sat Madam Lin, the Head Wife. She was a woman of fading beauty who compensated with excessive jewelry and a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Currently, she was looking at Lin Ji’an with a mix of triumph and venom.

On the right sat General Lin Zhen. He was a mountain of a man, clad in casual martial robes that couldn’t hide the explosive power of his muscles.

His face was scarred, his beard bristling, and his aura was heavy enough to make the air shimmer. He sat like a stone statue, his gaze unreadable.

To the side, Lin Zhaoyu sat on a smaller chair, his leg bandaged, his face bruised. He was currently sobbing into a handkerchief.

"Father! Look at what he did!" Zhaoyu wailed, pointing a trembling finger at Ji’an as she entered. "He used a dirty trick! He humiliated me in front of the servants! He has no respect for the brotherhood!"

Ji’an walked to the center of the hall. The pressure from the General was intense—a test of will. The original owner would have cowered, whined, or run to Madam Lin for protection.

Ji’an did none of those things.

She stopped ten paces away. She brought her hands together and bowed deeply, perfectly, toward the General.

"Son Lin Ji’an greets Father. General, may your martial fortune be eternal."

Her voice was steady, clear, and respectful.

General Lin’s eyebrows twitched. The boy usually slouched and mumbled.

Then, Ji’an turned slightly toward Madam Lin. She didn’t bow as deeply. It was a polite, distant, social bow, the kind one gives to a neighbor’s wife.

"Greetings, Madam."

The silence in the hall was deafening.

Madam Lin’s smile froze. Her eyes widened. For fifteen years, she had manipulated this child into calling her "Mother," isolating him from his own identity as a concubine’s son to keep him dependent and foolish.

"Ji’an?" Madam Lin said, her voice trembling with forced sweetness. "My child, why are you so distant? Why do you call me Madam? Am I not your Mother?"

She dabbed at her dry eyes with a silk cloth, looking at the General. "Oh, General, look. He resents me. I have tried so hard to raise him as my own..."

Zhaoyu chimed in. "See, Father! He’s unfilial! He hates Mother!"

General Lin frowned, his gaze shifting to Ji’an. "Explain."

Ji’an straightened up. She looked small in the large hall, her "boyish" frame looking fragile compared to the General. She lowered her head, looking at the floor, biting her lip to summon moisture to her eyes.

"This son... does not dare," she whispered, her voice trembling just enough to be audible.

"Speak!" General Lin commanded, though his tone wasn’t harsh.

Ji’an took a deep breath. She looked up, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears—a masterclass in ’White Lotus’ acting.

"Father, Madam," she began, her voice gaining a shaky strength. "Today, after Brother Zhaoyu came to... discipline me, I realized something. I have been arrogant. I have been blind."

She turned to Madam Lin. "Madam has been too kind to me. You allowed a humble concubine’s son to call you Mother, to stand equal with the legitimate heir. But... look at the result."

She gestured to Zhaoyu.

"Brother Zhaoyu was so angry today because I, a lowly brother, dared to have something he wanted. He felt he had the right to break into my courtyard and take my servant because... well, because I forgot my place. I forgot that there is a difference between the clouds and the mud."

Madam Lin’s face went pale. This brat! He was using humility to paint her son as a tyrant and her as a chaotic manager of the household!

"I cannot allow Madam to be shamed anymore," Ji’an continued, clutching her chest. "If I continue to call you Mother, people will think the Lin family has no rules. They will think that a concubine’s son can ride over the head of the legitimate wife. So, to protect Madam’s dignity... I must keep my distance. I must remember that I am merely... the Third Son."

General Lin listened, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest. He was a military strategist. He knew when someone was flanking an enemy.

He looked at his wife. He saw the flash of panic in her eyes. He looked at Zhaoyu, who looked like a spoiled child angry that his toy fought back.

And then he looked at Ji’an. The boy stood straight, despite the "humble" words. There was a spark in those eyes that looked remarkably like... Lin Zhen himself in his youth.

The General hated the internal politics of the back courtyard. He hated how soft his eldest son had become.

He had worried that his third son was becoming a wastrel. But today? Today, the boy spoke with logic. With sharp edges hidden in silk.

"And the beating?" General Lin asked, his voice rumbling like thunder. "Why did you strike your brother?"

"Self-defense, Father," Ji’an said immediately. "And... preserving the family face."

"Preserving face?" Zhaoyu shrieked. "You hit me with a soup ladle!"