Time flew by, and many people in Henderson Town soon learned that the Henderson Family had a new young lady. Publicly, it was claimed that she was the daughter Eugene Henderson had fathered outside the family, her name—Isabelle Frost.
It was common for men to have several wives and concubines, but the fact that this young lady was mute became the subject of much gossip about the Henderson Family behind closed doors.
The reason for this story was that when Isabelle Frost was sent away, the people in Henderson Town knew nothing about it. To protect the family's reputation, they fabricated this tale.
Today, the entrance to the Henderson Family estate was adorned with lanterns and decorations—it was the annual birthday celebration for the eldest son, John Chou. Many gentry from Dingtown had arrived for the occasion.
But every year at this time, John Chou felt most troubled. He disliked such gatherings; people spoke flattering words in public but gossiped behind his back, each one wearing a mask of hypocrisy. This was what frustrated him most. He had overheard their idle talk at banquets more than once, but always pretended not to hear.
So, as the feast reached its midpoint and the lanterns were first lit, John Chou overheard two men in the corridor, emboldened by drink, discussing the Henderson Family. After all, the Hendersons were now the most powerful family in Dingtown, and many envied them.
The two began by mocking the Henderson Family, saying that this generation was headed for ruin—a fool and a mute, and more. John Chou could barely hold back his anger.
But soon John Chou sighed and turned away. The two men continued laughing loudly, painting vivid pictures with their words. Upon reflection, he realized this was all because of the impression he had given the locals since childhood, and changing it now would be difficult.
Having eaten and drunk his fill, John Chou decided to visit his mother's room. Lately, she had grown distant, devoting all her attention and energy to Isabelle Frost, as if trying to make up for all the lost years. Isabelle had begun to adapt to life in the Henderson Family, and tonight was also her birthday.
John Chou first went to his own room, picked up a long, cloth-wrapped object, and then hurried out.
Inside the room, two figures—one large, one small—seemed to be laughing together. At that moment, John Chou knocked on the door.
"Mother."
After entering, John Chou saw the room filled with clothes. Maggie Mute was helping Isabelle Frost try them on, one after another. Isabelle was smiling radiantly.
Maggie Mute gestured, and John Chou walked over. After setting the object down, he spoke.
"This is your birthday present, silly little sister."
After putting the object down, John Chou left. Isabelle Frost was surprised, but happily unwrapped the cloth. Her eyes widened in excitement—the package contained a zither. Maggie Mute smiled and patted Isabelle's back.
By late night, almost all the guests had left, save for a few business associates of the Henderson Family. John Chou lay quietly on his bed, unsure why nothing felt right anymore. He remembered the old days—carefree, with nothing to worry about, only needing to endure. But now, life required caution.
Just then, his bedroom door was knocked. John Chou rolled out of bed and walked over, puzzled. At the door stood a small figure. John Chou opened it.
Isabelle Frost stood at the doorway, hands clasped nervously behind her back.
"What's wrong? You don't like it?"
Isabelle Frost pursed her lips and kept shaking her head, still too afraid to look at John Chou, her head lowered.
"If you have something to say, hurry up. I'm tired and need to rest."
Isabelle Frost stretched out her hands in front of John Chou and suddenly opened them. Tiny green lights began to rise—her hands were covered in dirt, and she laughed playfully. Fireflies slowly ascended, and for a moment John Chou was mesmerized. Isabelle giggled, her lips moving again and again.
By moonlight, John Chou saw the shape of Isabelle Frost's lips—she was mouthing: birthday present.
John Chou tilted his head back, his face relaxing after the guests' unpleasant words. He placed a hand on Isabelle's head, and she happily nuzzled against it.
"Not bad. This birthday really was a challenge for you, silly little sister."
Watching the fireflies drift away into the night sky, John Chou's mood inexplicably improved.
June arrived, the height of summer, with insects chirping everywhere. In the classroom, Isabelle Frost stared at the characters before her, frustrated as she wrote. She had tried several times, but still couldn't get it right.
"Still as clumsy as ever."
John Chou teased her from the side. That morning, Isabelle Frost had given him quite a scare—he'd placed a caterpillar on her head, and she was terrified.
Every day, she had to endure John Chou's mockery—he was always calling her clumsy. Isabelle Frost stubbornly practiced over and over.
"Looks like you didn't inherit your parents' talents, silly little sister. You might as well spend your life eating and drinking, then find someone willing to marry you. There's no need to try so hard."
Isabelle Frost kept writing, refusing to give up. Nearby, Victor Fan watched helplessly.
"John Chou, come here with me."
Victor Fan called John Chou aside.
"It's been months, and your method doesn't seem to work. No matter how much you provoke Isabelle, she still won't speak."
"There will be a way eventually. Besides, this helps toughen up that silly little sister's fragile mind—it's a win-win, isn't it?"
John Chou chuckled, his eyes darting mischievously. He glanced around, then walked to a tree and kicked it—immediately, a caterpillar fell down.
He looked around, picked the biggest and ugliest caterpillar, carefully took it in his hand, then approached Isabelle Frost, who was quietly writing.
"Silly little sister, look—this thing looks just like you!"
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When Isabelle Frost heard the sound and looked up, she was terrified—her mouth fell open and she jumped up, her face pale as she stared at John Chou. She was most afraid of those strange-looking bugs. Furious, she grabbed her pen and threw it at him.
John Chou deftly caught the pen, then wrote 'dummy' on the table, burst out laughing, and ran off. Isabelle was thoroughly enraged; she whimpered, clutching her bamboo scroll, and chased after him. John Chou would run a bit, then stop, constantly shouting 'silly little sister.'
No matter how hard Isabelle Frost chased, John Chou always kept a certain distance, stopping and running just to tease her.
After a while, Isabelle Frost was panting from running. Many of the household servants saw this and felt sorry for her.
With a thud, Isabelle Frost fell to the ground. She looked angrily at John Chou, and the servants rushed over to help.
"Don't help her. Let the silly little sister get up on her own."
John Chou suddenly shouted harshly. The servants sighed helplessly. Isabelle Frost began to cry; it seemed all the torment she'd endured from John Chou's pranks finally exploded. She wept, angrily throwing her bamboo scroll.
"Go ahead and keep crying. You can't talk anyway, right? Silly little sister, you can't even curse me—useless! You really are just like that caterpillar!"
"Young master, what are you doing?"
A voice rang out in anger. John Chou immediately ran off as Zhuang Xian, furious, rushed over and hurriedly helped Isabelle Frost to her feet, brushing the dust off her clothes. He checked her knee—it was scraped.
"Miss, I'll help you get revenge later."
Zane Zhuang smiled, took Isabelle Frost by the hand, and walked on. Victor Fan watched it all, shaking his head helplessly.
For three or four days, Isabelle Frost ignored John Chou. Every day, she went behind Maggie Mute's room and beat, threw stones at, and slapped a face drawn on a tree trunk.
It was a picture of John Chou drawn by Isabelle Frost—there was some resemblance. John Chou saw it all but never said a word.
Days passed, and Isabelle Frost continued crying under John Chou's relentless pranks, which grew more and more cruel. Many in the household supported Isabelle, but no one could handle John Chou, the little demon. Zane Zhuang had reached his limit and kept telling Henry Henderson about John Chou's misdeeds.
One afternoon, before dinner, Isabelle Frost was tired from running all day and napped alone in her room. John Chou quietly climbed in through the window, while Zane Zhuang kept watch outside.
Once inside, John Chou tiptoed to Isabelle Frost and pulled out a small snake, placing it on her neck. Isabelle's eyes fluttered open, and John Chou covered her mouth—she couldn't speak, but she could still scream.
"Don't move, silly little sister. This snake is poisonous. See, I'm holding its mouth—if it bites you, your skin will rot away by tonight."
Isabelle Frost felt her scalp tingle and swallowed hard, tears welling up in her eyes. Following John Chou's instructions, she climbed out the window.
Then, without another word, John Chou grabbed Isabelle Frost and ran, heading straight for the Henderson Family's back mountain.
Amid the low, wicked flower bushes, caterpillars lay motionless. As soon as John Chou removed the snake, Isabelle Frost let out a bone-chilling scream.
"Silly little sister, that's enough screaming—shut up."
As John Chou spoke, his expression changed. Isabelle Frost fell silent, swallowing nervously, unsure what he would do next.
"I told you before, you're just like these caterpillars. See?"
Isabelle Frost looked over and, in an instant, cried out in surprise, repeatedly mouthing the word 'butterfly.'
"First time seeing one, huh? Butterflies are born ugly, you know. You're just like that—ugly, clumsy. All this time has passed and you still can't speak."
John Chou sighed, placing a hand on Isabelle Frost's head. The sunset bathed the mountain forest in golden light as butterflies emerged from their cocoons, a vibrant cloud fluttering in the dusk. Isabelle's eyes widened, as if trying to imprint the stunning scene in her memory.
"See that, silly little sister? These butterflies—aren't they beautiful!"