The sixteenth year of Tianqi, the twenty-fifth day of the seventh month (lunar calendar).
Inside the inner residence of Duke Ying’s household.
Though autumn had already arrived, the midday sun still blazed fiercely. Servants bustled in small groups beneath the covered walkways.
Within the inner chamber of Qiyun Pavilion, Gu Qingzhao jolted awake from a nightmare, crying out, “No—!”
She sat up, drenched in cold sweat, her hand clutching the corner of the quilt so tightly that the veins stood out, ready to burst.
Maid Cuiliu hurried forward, lifted the bed curtains, and gently steadied her mistress’s shoulder. “Miss, what has happened to you?”
Gu Qingzhao opened her eyes and saw Cuiliu—then remembered the truth that Xiao Hongshuang had revealed about her younger brother’s death. Her hand flew up and struck Cuiliu hard across the face. Even if it was only a dream, she could not forgive the one who had caused her brother’s death.
Cuiliu was stunned. Third Miss had always been gentle, never quick to punish her servants. What had changed today? Or had the young lady discovered something? She was about to ask when her gaze met Gu Qingzhao’s—sharp, cold, and utterly unfamiliar.
Instinctively, Cuiliu dropped to her knees. “Miss, forgive me.”
Chunlan, another maid, looked on in confusion. She did not plead for Cuiliu; instead, she said, “Miss, the Duke is urging you to bring the tiger-bone wine to him.”
Behind her stood Gui Zhi, carrying a set of clothes in her arms.
The moment Gu Qingzhao saw Chunlan, her eyes widened.
Chunlan had been given to her by her maternal uncle. In the rebellion of Tianqi’s eighteenth year, she had shielded Gu Qingzhao from a blade, dying in her arms.
Only now did Gu Qingzhao realize something was wrong. She looked down at herself—her hands and feet were whole. Her tongue was intact too. She glanced around. On the nearby desk, a small purple-gold incense burner shaped like a mythical beast released the fragrance of agarwood.
On her dressing table lay a warm jade hairpin—her elder cousin’s gift for her coming-of-age ceremony. Later, she had used that very hairpin as a token, sending it to him as a plea for the Xiao family’s support on behalf of Qin Jingming.
Gu Qingzhao drew in a deep breath—she had been reborn, back to the sixteenth year of Tianqi.
Her bright eyes turned toward Chunlan, a trace of moisture glimmering at the corners. Then she glanced at Cuiliu, who was kneeling on the floor, and said lightly, “I had a nightmare. In it, you betrayed me. Get up.”
Cuiliu’s expression froze for an instant before smoothing back into calm.
“Miss Third, I am your servant. I would never dare betray you.”
Gu Qingzhao no longer looked at her. “Since Father and Fourth Sister are already waiting, let’s go. Bring the tiger-bone wine properly.”
Her gaze seemed fixed on the wine, yet in truth it was unfocused. She remembered this day from her previous life. Because Gu Qingjin had injured her ankle, she had begged her cousin in Liaodong to send tiger-bone wine to the capital. Once it arrived, she had eagerly delivered it to Gu Qingjin.
But Gu Qingjin merely sniffed it and immediately retched. Without a word, Father slapped her across the face and accused her of tampering with the wine.
Now, thinking back, Gu Qingzhao realized Gu Qingjin’s reaction was clearly because she was already pregnant. Her mind shifted. She ordered Cuiliu, “Go to the small storeroom and fetch Master Wang Huaizhi’s calligraphy copybook from the former dynasty. I want to give it to Fourth Sister.”
After Cuiliu left, Gu Qingzhao dressed while instructing Chunlan on what was to come. Chunlan did not understand the reason, but she carefully memorized every word.
Soon, Cuiliu returned, sweat beading on her forehead. “Miss, this servant could not find the copybook.”
Gu Qingzhao replied casually, “Ah, I remember now—I already gave it away. Let’s go.”
She led Cuiliu and Guizhi toward the outer courtyard, leaving Chunlan behind to tidy autumn clothes.
Since today’s physician specialized in bones, it was inconvenient to bring him into the inner quarters. Instead, he had been invited to Duke Ying’s study, where they now awaited Gu Qingzhao’s tiger-bone wine.
Outside the study, Gu Qingzhao paused at the door, hearing Gu Qingjin’s delicate voice within: “Mother, Second Uncle, I’m afraid it will hurt.”
Her father, Gu Yuande, answered warmly, “Don’t be afraid, Jin’er. Second Uncle has already told the doctor to be gentle. Don’t you like that set of eastern pearl hair ornaments at Cuihuan Tower? Once your foot heals, we’ll buy it.”
Then came Third Madam Xiao Hongshuang’s soft laugh: “Second Brother, you spoil her far too much.”
Gu Qingzhao’s steps faltered. A bitter smile flickered in her lowered eyes. How had she never seen it before? They were the ones who truly seemed like family.
She and Gu Qingjin had both fallen from the carriage, both injured. Yet Father had shown her no concern, while he doted on Gu Qingjin as if she were carved into his very bones.
Gu Qingzhao raised her hand, gently pushed open the study door, lifted her skirts, and stepped inside. “Father, Third Aunt, Fourth Sister.”
As in the past, she bowed respectfully to her elders and greeted Gu Qingjin.
No one noticed the hand hidden beneath Gu Qingjin’s sleeve, clenched into a fist, nails digging into her palm.
Xiao Hongshuang stepped forward with a smiling face, lightly supporting Gu Qingzhao’s arm.
“Come now, no need for formality among family. Only you, dear Zhao, are so thoughtful—fetching tiger-bone wine. Without it, your fourth sister would have suffered far more.”
As Gu Qingzhao listened, the memory of her past life surfaced—her final moments, five years spent living under her mother’s stolen identity. What a clever scheme these adulterers had played.
In that former life, she had been close to this Third Aunt. When Xiao Hongshuang died, she had grieved for a long time. Back then she had been naïve, believing that a smiling face and kind words were genuine, never realizing those words were knives in disguise.
Just as now—Xiao Hongshuang’s remark tied Gu Qingjin’s suffering directly to the tiger-bone wine. If she failed to procure it smoothly, or if anything went wrong when Gu Qingjin used it, the blame would fall squarely on her. Her father would heap the guilt upon her, while Xiao Hongshuang would add a few seemingly gentle but truly incendiary words, stoking his anger further.
“It was a coincidence,” Gu Qingzhao said coolly. “My cousin heard of my injury and sent the wine to the capital. Since Fourth Sister needs it more, of course I should yield it to her. Next time, Third Aunt, you might write directly to Prince Liao’s household—it would surely be faster than me searching for wine.”
Xiao Hongshuang’s brows tightened ever so slightly, as though pricked by a thorn. She was but a concubine-born daughter of Prince Liao’s household; if she wrote to them, no one would even glance at her letter. What did this girl mean? Was it mockery, or simply careless words?
Thinking of Gu Qingzhao’s usual foolish simplicity, Xiao Hongshuang decided she was overthinking. Likely the girl had spoken without thought.
“Bring in Doctor Bai.” From the moment Gu Qingzhao entered, Gu Yuande had not lifted his eyes to her, as though she were no more than a servant, not his legitimate daughter.
Gu Qingzhao did not care. Toward this father, she had only boundless hatred left.
Soon, Doctor Bai of Shou’an Hall arrived. He examined the wine, then had a stool brought over and placed Gu Qingjin’s leg upon it. Her swollen ankle was revealed. Doctor Bai opened the wine jar.
Gu Qingjin leaned forward eagerly. “Let me see this wine. I’ve never seen tiger-bone soaked wine before.”
A maid carried the jar closer. Gu Qingjin bent her head, inhaled deeply—and the next instant turned aside to retch violently. Between heaves she cried out, “Third Sister must have poisoned me! This doesn’t smell like proper wine at all!”
Just as in her previous life, Gu Yuande’s face darkened. He strode to Gu Qingzhao’s side. “Did you tamper with this wine? You wretched child—how dare you!”
His hand lifted, ready to strike.