Power Up Artist Yang - Chapter 370

Her relationship with her parents had never been good, and Yujia knew that fact well enough. There was a time where she sought their approval, but she was younger then. Part of growing up was the bitter realization that they wouldn’t ever give her it, and even more— which was what perhaps hurt more— that she didn’t need it.

Seeing this letter from the father of the Fourth Miss, she was enraged. There shouldn’t have been a reason to. He was not her father; she was not the true Fourth Miss.

Yet she was enraged.

The letter seemed to remind her of her father. When she was younger, how many times had she wished for him to say the exact words written to her?

She wished he had apologized. She wished he would’ve admitted that the loss of his son was not her fault. She wished he had the courage to admit he had been cowardly all along, to put that blame entirely on her. She wished he told her he loved her.

He never did. He never said any of those things, never uttered a single word like that.

But if he had, would Yujia have believed him? Would she be able to throw away the years of neglect into the past, and let bygones be bygones?

Things couldn’t be that easy.

If they were, Yujia would’ve been furious at herself for being so lenient. However, chances were that she couldn’t forgive that easily. She was furious not at herself, but rather the father.

As Yujia looked over the letter over and over again, the letter meant for another daughter than herself, she only saw lies upon lies.

Love her? Had he loved the Fourth Miss, would he have given her a room intended for servants, clothes of that quality, and attention of that quality as well? Wished the best for her? What had wishing the best ever done, besides pushing the Fourth Miss into darker and darker corners?

Yujia knew how things would’ve gone had she never transmigrated into the body of the Fourth Miss. She knew what kind of life the Fourth Miss was living, spiteful of every being, lashing out her anger on Hui’er. She knew what kind of life the Fourth Miss would have to live in the future, stuck in another villa where nobody cared, a cage which she would never escape from.

There was no other person to blame than the Old Master. Had he simply shown her a single bit of true affection in the past, the Fourth Miss wouldn’t have turned out that way.

He wanted to see her again now, was it?

Yujia was not an idiot. She knew how the Yang Villa reacted upon the first few weeks where she escaped from her marriage.

They worried about their relationship with the Yu Family. They worried about their reputation in the capital.

Never had they worried about her.

If they had, they would’ve sent a letter sooner. Perhaps they could use the excuse that they didn’t know where to find her. Then, why had her father never sent her a letter in the days following where she revealed her identity to Zixu’s father? There was no doubt that Zixu’s father informed the Yang Household of this. Why did the Yang Old Master wait weeks, when Zixu and her were officially engaged, to send a letter?

Once again, the Old Master only cared about the advantages he could get from his relationships. The Fourth Miss was nothing but a tool.

Yujia set the letter down. She had enough of reading those lies.

Imagining that her expression must’ve been clouded with irritation, Yujia put a hand over her face, waiting for it to relax. As she waited, she realized she pitied Yang Xiaoyi, her younger sister. She wondered if Xiaoyi knew this was the kind of person her father is. But still, even if she knew, what could she do? This was the world she lived in.

Yujia let her hand drop. She glanced back at the letter.

She had to admit she cared about Xiaoyi. Recalling how Xiaoyi had never been anything but brimming with warmth towards her, helping her out on so many occasions, Yujia sighed. This little sister of hers was perhaps the only person in the Yang Family Yujia had grown to like ever since transmigrating over. Yujia also hadn’t seen Xiaoyi in months.

Picking up the letter again, she read over the words where the Old Master pleaded for her to return to the villa at least once. Yujia pressed her lips together.

Perhaps she should pay them a visit.

…

The next morning, Yujia picked out one of her finer robes. Made of layered chiffon of white and teal, the robes were embroidered with thousands of gold thread stitches, which were further accentuated by the twisted pale jasmine-yellow belt strung around her waist. The detail on the neckline was especially impressive, a beautiful gradient of embroidered jasmines curling up her neck. It was the reason for why she picked the robes, since the detail could be seen underneath the cloak she chose to wear.

At last, she selected a few capable servants, sending them ahead with orders to take care of a carriage for her. When she returned to her room, seeing Yufeng eating her breakfast of a steaming bowl of porridge, Yujia eyed Yufeng up and down. Yufeng liked to wear simple cotton robes, and Yujia never saw her in anything different.

Smiling from ear-to-ear, Yuija clasped her hands together, humming, “Yufeng—”

Yufeng slowly set the spoon in her hand down, eyeing Yujia with suspicion. “Yes?”

“Come on, let’s get you all dolled up,” Yujia said.

Yufeng shook her head, leaning backwards. “I’m good, thanks.”

But her initial refusal was useless. After a bit of a hassle, some hand-in-hand combat, tens of robes pulled from Yujia’s drawers, a mountain of accessories, and a desperate struggle for dear life later, Yujia found herself facing a new Yufeng.

Yufeng wore a set of pale apricot robes that Yuija picked, which also came from the collection of finery Yujia owned. Topped with a muted jade blue on the outside to compliment the apricot shade, Yujia figured it would match the teal robes she wore today. Along with the robes, she selected some fine jewelry for Yufeng to wear around her wrists and hair, the type that was elegant enough to not appear gaudy, yet extravagant enough to elevate Yufeng’s appearance.

Stepping back to view her work, Yujia nodded satisfactorily, though Yufeng’s expression was rather gloomy.

“What’s the purpose of all of this?” Yufeng muttered.

Yujia explained, “We’re paying a visit to the Yang Villa, and I want you to be my personal aide.”

Yufeng looked down at herself, gesturing her hands. “All this?” She wrinkled her nose. “For a servant?”

Affirming, Yujia nodded. “I want him to see how well I’m living now. So well, in fact, that even a maid is treated better than the Fourth Miss was in the past.”

She needed to make the message clear. It was something she wanted him to know the moment he saw her. The Old Master could beg for the Fourth Miss to come visit all he wanted. But she was never going back.

She was not his daughter. She was not the Fourth Miss.

To him, she would only be Yue Yu.