HBWMA -Chapter 398 The Right to Choose

Shen Qingyu froze for a moment, his flushed face suddenly turning pale.

Shen Zhuang lifted his arm and tapped his shoulder with his walking stick.

“You think you’ve made a bit of money and suddenly you’re capable? Have you ever considered who gave you your foundation and capital? People outside only treat you well because you’re a Shen family young master and are willing to share a slice of the pie with you. Without the Shen family, without the resources of your first pot of gold, do you really think you could stand on the stage of capital?”

Shen Qingyu still felt unconvinced. “So, in Grandpa’s eyes, I’m that useless?”

“That’s the truth.” Shen Zhuang showed no mercy. He turned to Shen Lanxi. “And you! Lanxi, you’ve truly disappointed Grandpa!”

Shen Lanxi lifted his gaze and looked directly at Shen Zhuang, his eyes burning. “I’ve disappointed Grandpa, but hasn’t Grandpa also disappointed me?”

Those words struck like a blade straight into Shen Zhuang’s heart. The old man slowly lowered his walking stick, his gaze growing colder and deeper.

Shen Lanxi’s eyes reddened slightly as he let out a low, bitter laugh.

“I used to think Grandpa truly favored me. I didn’t expect your so-called favoritism meant sending me to Qingxu Temple even though you knew I was framed, and raising a tiger by your side even though you knew the murderer was right there. Grandpa, in your ‘bigger picture’—what exactly am I?”

Shen Qingyu’s expression changed slightly. He had just been feeling indignant for himself, but after hearing Shen Lanxi, he suddenly felt his own grievance was nothing at all.

He had always envied how easily Shen Lanxi received all of Grandpa’s favor. But now, if he put himself in Shen Lanxi’s position, he actually felt relieved that he wasn’t him.

If it were him—if he had experienced even one of those things in childhood—he would have broken long ago. Yet Shen Lanxi had carried everything alone.

But compared to past framing and assassination attempts, the truth before them now was even more cruel.

It turned out that the person closest to them had always known the source of those evils, yet chose to act like a deaf and mute old man.

Shen Lanxi, rarely showing such emotional intensity, saw Shen Zhuang remain silent and gritted his teeth as he pressed on.

“Please tell me—what is the bigger picture? What is your ‘bigger picture’?”

Shen Zhuang slowly raised his eyes. His deep gaze was filled with mist-like heaviness. Then he calmly turned to Shen Guiling.

“A-Ling, you tell them. What is the bigger picture?”

Shen Guiling’s eyelids moved slightly as he met Shen Zhuang’s gaze.

Before coming here, the old man had already gone to the Chrysanthemum Garden. It seemed he already knew about what happened that night at the mountain villa.

After a moment of silence, he said quietly, “It is mutual support, sharing weal and woe.”

Shen Lanxi’s pupils trembled slightly. He turned to look at Shen Guiling.

“What are you saying?”

Shen Guiling lowered his eyes, bloodshot veins faintly visible.

“Last night, I was blocked by assassins at the center lake, which caused the plan to fail. It was… Shanshan who drew them away for me. She told me to return and find Qingyu, and to complete the promise I made with you.”

Shen Lanxi’s pupils contracted sharply.

Shen Qingyu’s mind went completely blank. It took him a long time to react. Shen Guiling had previously only said he encountered an ambush—but he never said it was Jiang Huashan who drew the assassins away.

The two of them suddenly realized something, and a massive wave surged in their hearts.

Shen Qingyu couldn’t believe it as he looked at Shen Guiling. “You let her go alone to draw away the assassins? Shen Guiling, are you insane?!”

Shen Guiling lowered his head, his eyes bloodshot and chaotic. He really was insane—because he actually believed her ridiculous words.

“She… why would she…” Shen Lanxi’s voice turned hoarse, his throat suddenly tightening.

Why else could it be?

For the sake of the bigger picture, and to prevent them from becoming suspicious of one another.

Shen Lanxi closed his eyes and forced the tears welling in his eyes back down. When he looked up again, his lashes were already damp. He set down the documents in his hands and knelt heavily before Shen Zhuang, bowing his head with a loud thud.

“Grandfather, I’m sorry.”

One thought of kindness, one thought of evil.

When Shen Zhuang presented the evidence, Shen Lanxi’s first reaction was to recall his own suffering, and resentment rose within him, coloring his judgment.

But he had overlooked the most basic truth—if Shen Zhuang truly intended to allow evil to continue unchecked, why would he have painstakingly gathered all this evidence in the first place?

It was because his grandfather had been waiting for them to grow up.

In truth, how could he not understand? Going to Qingxu Temple was not because his grandfather had believed slander—it was to protect him in a better way.

Shen Zhuang let out a long breath, his expression desolate.

“After A-Xi passed away, the Shen family lost its military branch. The position of Council Chairman exists to balance the courts and the government. Once the eldest loses power, the Shen family will suffer a severe blow.”

“The second and third have spent years consolidating their influence. The Shen Group and the Shen family have long been inseparable—if we forcibly cut out the flesh, the family may well be devoured by those with ulterior motives. Struggles within a family are always life-and-death battles. The Fu family and the Yao family are the best examples.”

With that, the old man leaned on his cane and slowly stood up. His gaze passed calmly over the three in front of him.

“Back then, the Shen clan sacrificed themselves for the nation, leaving only me—a reckless wastrel—to hold the family together. For this family, I have wronged countless people in my life. If I cannot uphold the family’s honor, how can I face them after death?”

“So today, I will make myself clear. As long as I am here, no one is allowed to touch the foundation of the Shen family. If you want revenge, then climb higher—reach the top of this sky. If you don’t have the ability, then shut your mouths and behave yourselves.”

The candlelight in the ancestral hall stretched their shadows long and slanted.

Shen Zhuang leaned on his cane and slowly walked over the scattered documents, leaving the hall step by step.

The night wind brushed across his face. The elderly man stood by the pond, listening to the chirping of cicadas.

If he were still young, he would surely have charged forward fearlessly like those children, sword in hand. Unfortunately—he was truly old now.

At twelve years old, Shen Zhuang had once asked tearfully Jiang Huashan whether she had grown up well. She had said yes. And so he had guessed that Jiang Huashan must have come for him.

From the day she warned him about an internal traitor in the Shen family, Shen Zhuang had begun secretly investigating everyone in the family.

The deeper he investigated, the colder his heart became. If not for concrete evidence, he would never have believed that his own descendants had done so many unforgivable things in the shadows.

But by the time he discovered the truth, it was already too late—the Shen family could no longer be cleansed.

So he could only endure, waiting for the children to grow up, step by step gradually stripping away their power.

Originally, he had planned to keep the contents of the box hidden for a few more years before revealing them to the children. But Jiang Huashan’s words had awakened him.

He had always thought that if he waited a little longer, the children would mature on their own—but if he never let go, they would never truly grow up.

If he wanted them to stand on their own and yet remain bound together in unity, education alone was not enough. They had to be given the choice themselves.

Now, the evidence they desired lay right before them. Once exposed, Shen Lanxi could avenge the repeated assassination attempts against him, and Shen Guiling could seek justice for his wrongly killed mother. The future of the Shen family had been placed into the hands of these three children—its honor or disgrace would depend entirely on them.

Shen Zhuang sighed softly and walked slowly along the corridor toward the inner courtyard.

When he was young, he once lay drunk by the stream, listening to cicadas in the midsummer heat, and felt as though the world itself was vast and boundless. Back then, he thought that was the essence of Zen.

Only now did he understand—the vastness of the world was not the Zen of summer.

It was the youth he once had.