The Third Young Master was the legitimate son, but not the eldest. He had two older legitimate brothers.
Under normal circumstances, the title of the Marquis would have nothing to do with him.
But his fortune was exceptional. At his one-hundred-day banquet, a high-ranking monk from the Huguo Temple in the capital declared that he would bring prosperity to his family and grandmother.
This monk didn’t have the fame of Master Liaokong. As for whether his prediction was accurate… no one really knew. But the Old Madam believed it.
Appearance-wise, the Third Young Master was indeed impressive: tall, dignified, with red lips and white teeth, graceful and charming.
But that was only the surface.
In the entire Wu’an Marquis residence, everyone except the Old Madam and the Marquis knew that the Third Young Master had a violent temper and enjoyed beating the servants.
However, all this was kept secret by order of the Young Master’s mother.
Now that the household was managed by the Young Master’s mother, which servant would dare to report him to the Old Madam or the Marquis?
Earlier that year, the Third Young Master had beaten to death a low-ranking maid in his courtyard. The household’s other maidservants refused to work there, instead bribing the stewards to assign them elsewhere.
Er Ya, having no money to bribe anyone, was assigned to the Third Young Master’s courtyard.
Yesterday evening, the Third Young Master stormed into the courtyard in a rage and saw Er Ya cleaning.
Without a word, he lashed her with a whip.
Even after the first strike, he wasn’t satisfied. He cruelly whipped her multiple times while she lay on the ground, and then declared: “No one is to intervene. Anyone who does will pay!”
The other servants dared not interfere. Only when it got dark did the stewards instruct the few maidservants sharing the room to carry Er Ya to the bed and leave her to fend for herself.
Poor Er Ya was already thin and weak. The whipping left several bloody marks, and lying on the cold ground, she caught a chill and developed a fever that very night.
It was only when a matron, sent by the Old Madam to the Third Young Master’s courtyard, recognized Er Ya as one of the twelve blessing maids, that she reported it to Grandma Liu.
Grandma Liu then informed the Old Madam, who was furious, leading to Pearl summoning the house physician to attend to Er Ya.
But the real Er Ya was frail. With whipping and a cold, even with the medicine, she was beyond saving.
Er Ya died from the high fever? Shen Ruyi thought, touching her own forehead. It wasn’t hot.
Could the house physician’s medicine really be that effective?
Shen Ruyi found this unlikely. In Er Ya’s memories, in that time, a high fever was almost always life-threatening, often leaving one mentally impaired.
Could it be that because I transmigrated, the fever automatically subsided? That can’t be this miraculous, right?
Shen Ruyi moved her arms and legs. Other than being slightly hungry, there were no lingering effects of illness.
She had transmigrated into Er Ya’s body. With Er Ya’s frail physique, there should have been some aftereffects.
Shen Ruyi reviewed her memories.
In her foggy recollection, there was a period when she felt particularly unwell. Could that have been the moment she had already crossed over?
She remembered feeling both discomforted and extremely thirsty… then someone fed her water, and after drinking, she felt completely better. Then she woke up from needing to urinate—and discovered she had transmigrated.
Water? Who had fed her water? What kind of water?
Suddenly, Shen Ruyi rubbed her eyes in disbelief. What was happening?
In the dim morning light, she saw a thin stream of water flowing toward her mouth.
Instinctively, she opened her mouth. Yes—that was the flavor, exactly that water.
What kind of water was this? Where did it come from?
Before she could think further, a well appeared before her. The stream of water slowly flowed back into it.
Around the well was a patch of bare, black soil.
This… could this be the legendary space with the spiritual spring?
Shen Ruyi was overjoyed. She carefully examined her surroundings. It was still dark; no one had gotten up.
She cautiously moved to a hidden corner, silently reciting: Enter.
Sure enough, in a blink, Shen Ruyi found herself in a different space—the well and black soil were right in front of her, but now there were two patches of soil instead of one.
Looking around, the space resembled a single courtyard house of northern villages: a main room with a front courtyard, the courtyard walls extending from the house walls.
Shen Ruyi stood in the center path of the front courtyard.
On both sides were the patches of bare black soil; the left side had a well.
She hurried over to the well, which was full of water. If this really was a legendary spiritual spring, she could become rich—or powerful—right?
After inspecting the well, Shen Ruyi pushed open the only house door. The room was square, empty, about twenty pings in size (~660 sq. ft).
“Ruyi, Ruyi? Where did you go?”
A voice from outside the space called—the original owner’s voice, now her own. It must be the other maidservants sharing the room.
Shen Ruyi silently recited: Exit. Sure enough, she returned to the outside corner where she had entered.
“I’m here,” Shen Ruyi called, stepping out.
“She’s fine. She’s here,” said the small maid who had slept next to her—known as Ping’er in Er Ya’s memories.
“That’s good. Don’t wander off recently,” said the eldest maid, fifteen-year-old Xingyu.
“Thank you for the reminder, Sister Xingyu. I understand,” Shen Ruyi replied softly.
Xingyu glanced at her. “It’s fine. We’re in the same room. I hope we all do well.”
Previously, Er Ya had been naive, but now Shen Ruyi was sharp.
Xingyu didn’t look simple. Why would she, too, be a low-ranking maid in the Third Young Master’s courtyard?
And her name was unlike Ping’er or the others in the room.
Searching through Er Ya’s memories yielded nothing useful. Er Ya had been like a transparent person, living cluelessly, her intelligence and courage seemingly exhausted in that one kneeling act.
At the first hour of the morning, the low-ranking maidservants in the backyard began to rise one by one.
Shen Ruyi, unsure of what to do, followed Xingyu, stayed in the room to rest, and began tidying up Er Ya’s belongings.
Er Ya’s possessions were utterly sparse.
Besides the clothes distributed by the residence over the years, there were a few months’ wages that had not yet been sent home.
Even small clothes from previous years had been pawned for copper coins and sent home.
Shen Ruyi was overwhelmed by the rolling memories, nearly rolling her eyes.
A low-ranking maidservant at Wu’an Marquis residence received 500 copper coins a month.
It was the fourth month of the lunar calendar; this month’s wages hadn’t been distributed yet.
The last month’s wages before the new year were only given after the ancestral rituals were completed.
Including New Year’s gifts from the masters, Er Ya had accumulated 2,500 copper coins—but had never spent a single coin on herself.
Shen Ruyi looked at the pile of coins and sighed deeply, hoping that in this new world, Er Ya—now her body—would live a more comfortable life.