Gold Cage - Chapter 6

 Mu Yu found himself at Bibo Hall again.

Compared to the tranquil Yunhai, this white traditional Chinese mansion still felt foreign. Even during New Year celebrations in the past, he'd never joined his brothers and parents here. Alone at Yunhai, the chefs would prepare him a lavish New Year's feast—back when he was small enough to nearly disappear behind the mountain of dishes at the table.

When he was little, Mu Yu would wait until late into the night, until Mu Hanxiao returned to Yunhai after midnight. To him, that moment marked the true beginning of the New Year.

Mu Yu followed the bodyguard into the white hall and ascended the stairs. Mu Yunting wasn't home, and the vast mansion was so silent one could hear a pin drop. The corridor was dimly lit by soft lights. The bodyguard opened the door for Mu Yu, and a suffocating atmosphere immediately washed over him.

A woman was waiting for him.

Zhao Mengling's severity manifested in every aspect of her life, whether toward others or herself. At fifty-five, she maintained the appearance of a woman barely past forty. She was a striking beauty with sharp, dignified features. In her youth, she had been bold—falling passionately in love with Mu Yunting, who was ten years her senior, right after high school. By nineteen, she had borne him their first child. Later, she pursued higher education, entered politics, and navigated the treacherous waters of officialdom for decades.

Clad in a black dress, Zhao Mengling stood with her arms crossed in front of the desk. Her straight, narrow eyelids framed a pair of dark, unfeeling eyes that weighed people like a ruthless black scale when they fixed upon someone.

"Do you know why I called you here?" Zhao Mengling spoke first.

In her presence, Mu Yu instinctively reined in his usual indifference. He stood properly and answered, "Yes."

"If you know, then you're not stupid."

Zhao Mengling stared at him with undisguised disgust. "Since you're not stupid, you should know there are people you can't touch. I thought you would've learned that by now."

"...I'm sorry."

Zhao Mengling let out a cold laugh, as if she had heard something absurd. Even her smile was restrained, devoid of any real amusement. Years of wielding authority had given her an imposing aura that made Mu Yu fall silent under its weight.

"Have I neglected you for so long that you've gotten the illusion you can act recklessly? Or do you truly believe you belong in this family?" she said calmly. "You're only here because Mu Yinting allowed it. I merely tolerate you for my husband's sake—do you understand?"

She stepped closer, studying him for a moment. Mu Yu kept his eyes lowered, saying nothing.

"Your mother abandoned you. If we didn't feed you, you'd have died on the streets. Isn't that right?"

"And this is how you repay us? Striking my son in public, pushing him into the water who gave you the audacity?"

The room was filled with the faint, elegant fragrance of her perfume. Finally, Mu Yu lifted his gaze to meet hers.

Suddenly, he smiled softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Auntie Zhao, since you failed to discipline your son, I had to do it for you. I was helping you how can you accuse me of ingratitude?"

Zhao Mengling's expression twisted into something terrifying. She raised her hand and struck Mu Yu across the face with a sharp, resounding slap. His head snapped to the side, his fair skin quickly flushing red. Zhao Mengling glared at him, her face contorted as if she wanted to tear his mouth apart. She called the bodyguard in, then turned to retrieve a coiled leather whip from the desk.

Her hands trembled with fury. Few people could provoke her so easily these days, but Mu Yu was the exception. He was like a filthy stain— blatantly imprinted on her home, her husband, and herself. She couldn't tolerate an uncontrollable blemish in her life, least of all one that dared to defy her!

A stubborn, unteachable bastard who never learns his place, daring to act wild in her presence—even daring to bully her most beloved youngest son!

"Kneel!"

Zhao Mengling's command brooked no argument. Before Mu Yu could move, a bodyguard stepped forward and forced him to his knees with a heavy hand on his shoulder. Zhao Mengling raised her hand and struck him with another resounding slap.

The woman hit with brutal force. The blow left Mu Yu's ears ringing, his face burning as if set aflame. He didn't resist he knew it was pointless. There was no escape. Even if he ran, she would drag him back. If she wanted to punish him, she would see it through to the bitter end.

Zhao Mengling tossed the whip to the bodyguard and looked down at Mu Yu with icy disdain. "Beat him until I say stop."

The bodyguard obeyed, raising the long whip high before bringing it down with a sharp whistle through the air. The lash landed with a sickening crack against Mu Yu's back.

Mu Yu nearly bit through his teeth. Then came the second strike, the third, the fourth.

The whip struck flesh and bone with a heavy, nauseating thud. The bodyguard, following his mistress's orders, held nothing back each lash felt like it could snap Mu Yu's spine or shatter his ribs. By the fifth strike, Mu Yu coughed violently, flecks of blood splattering onto the carpet.

This was the Mu family's tradition—punishment for wrongdoing. A child knelt unmoving, enduring the lash without protest.

Hanxiao had suffered the most beatings. Mu Yunting and Zhao Mengling had been merciless in their discipline. As the eldest son, he was the pillar of the Mu family, the standard his younger brothers looked up to. The future of the Mu household rested on his shoulders—not a single misstep was tolerated.

Zejun had also been beaten before, but Zhiye never had. Zhao Mengling had given birth to him at forty-one, treasuring this long-awaited youngest son beyond measure, coddling him as if even a strand of his hair were too precious to risk.

Mu Yu trembled on his knees, his breaths ragged like dust leaking from a broken bellows. Zhao Mengling grabbed his hair, forcing his head up. Blood trickled from his lips, streaking down his fragile neck.

The study's light blurred around them, casting the woman's silhouette like a distant statue. "Do you admit your mistake?" she asked coldly.

Mu Yu struggled to breathe, his face slick with sweat. His naturally expressive eyes, now weak and unfocused, gazed up at her. The light behind her flickered in his vision, alternating between darkness and blinding flashes like a faulty hallway lamp.

Squinting against the glare, Mu Yu curled his lips into a faint smile.

The woman took a sharp breath and flung his head away as if discarding something utterly repulsive.

"Beat him until he learns his lesson," Zhao Mengling commanded.

The whip cut through the air with terrifying force, nearly rupturing Mu Yu's spleen. The metallic taste of blood rose in his throat as excruciating pain turned his body ice-cold, his spine feeling like it might split his skull open. The woman's exquisitely pointed shoes stood before his lowered head he couldn't lift it, convinced death might be near.

He'd known punishment was coming.

At thirteen, Mu Yu had loathed three-year-old Mu Zhiye. Back then, he stubbornly believed Mu Hanxiao should only have one younger brother—himself. But Hanxiao thought differently, always cradling Zhiye whenever relatives brought the toddler over.

Mu Yu hated that child with a passion. The feeling was mutual—Zhiye would slap at him with tiny hands, shove his legs, and point while shrieking. Driven to distraction, Mu Yu finally pushed the constantly harassing toddler away. The child tumbled from the sofa, his wails summoning the entire household.

That's when Zhao Mengling locked Mu Yu in the pitch-black room. No lights, no windows—just terrified pounding on the door as he screamed Hanxiao's name.

No one came. For three days and nights, only minimal food and water slipped through the door.

When it finally opened, Mu Yu lay collapsed on the floor. Everyone seemed to forget his fragile health couldn't withstand such treatment—he'd already gone into shock by the time of discovery. The subsequent hospital stay lasted a full month.

Later, Mu Yu didn't particularly blame anyone. Because Hanxiao, as if making amends, treated him with even more patience and gentleness than before.

The healed wound made Mu Yu forget the pain. As long as Hanxiao showed him kindness, nothing else mattered.

But now Hanxiao had withdrawn that kindness.

So even if Zhiye was their untouchable treasure, even if repentance was expected—Mu Yu would still choose to be this spiteful.

The door suddenly rattled with knocking. The butler's cautious voice filtered through: "Madam, Master Zeju has returned."

Zhao Mengling barely furrowed her brow when the door swung open without permission, revealing Mu Zeju's confused voice: "Mom? What's—why aren't you answering...”

His words died as the door fully opened.

Mu Yu drifted in semi-consciousness, sharp tinnitus piercing his brain. Each painful heartbeat throbbed against his temples, ribs pressing against his agonized back. The voices above blurred into incomprehension—only registering that his second brother had arrived.

"How could you beat him like this?!"

"Why are you back unexpectedly?"

"Elder brother sent me—“

"Get out—“

"You know he can't endure—“

"Who permitted you to speak for this bastard?!"

"Mother!—"

The voices faded. Mu Yu could kneel no longer. Exhaling blood-tinged breath, consciousness abandoned him as he collapsed face-first onto the carpet.

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