As Dai Youheng faced Xu Jiujiu's sharp questioning, the air in the hall seemed to freeze into ice.
He could hardly tell Xu Jiujiu that the person back then had not actually been him-and that the loser really had been no match for her, rather than pretending.
He gathered his thoughts. The shock and grievance on his face slowly ebbed like a receding tide, replaced not by the panic of someone whose lies had been exposed, but by an indescribably complicated expression. Pain, conflict, restraint, and a trace of helpless hurt at being pressed this far by her all intertwined in his eyes.
"Your Highness-" His voice was low and hoarse, carrying a strained bitterness born of deliberate suppression. "You ask me why. Do you think I had any other choice back then?"
He raised his head and met Xu Jiujiu's gaze again, but the feigned ardor he usually wore was gone. Only an almost cruel clarity and helplessness remained.
"Yes, I lied to you. I took those three palm strikes deliberately. My strength back then already far exceeded what I showed. I took the blows, then pretended to be gravely injured and acted out that farce everyone knew about." His blunt admission instead made Xu Jiujiu pause in surprise.
"You ask me why?" Dai Youheng repeated her question, his lips curling into a deeply self-mocking smile steeped in bitterness. "Because back then, Dai Yueheng and Dai Huabin were both perfectly fine. They were the legitimate sons Father poured all his efforts into raising, the rightful future of the Duke's Mansion! And what was I? An insignificant concubine-born son!"
His emotions gradually rose, and his voice grew louder, filled with long-suppressed resentment and frustration. "Your Highness, have you ever considered this? If I had revealed my strength back then, who