On the second day of confinement, Shen Jin decided to fully embrace the art of “lying flat.” She slept until she woke naturally—or rather, until hunger woke her. By the time Chun Tao brought breakfast, her stomach was already growling like a drum.
“Miss, there are three things to report today,” Chun Tao said as she set out the dishes.
“Go on.” Shen Jin picked up a soup dumpling, bit into it, and let the hot broth burst across her tongue. Delicious! Ancient dumplings were the real deal—thin skin, generous filling, freshly chopped meat —unlike those frozen supermarket ones in modern times, bland and tasteless.
“First, Madam sent word again, asking if you’re well enough to pay respects.”
“Not well.” Shen Jin reached for another dumpling.
“Second, the General said, during confinement you may not leave the estate, but you can walk around inside.”
“No need.” She chewed leisurely. “This courtyard suits me fine.”
“Third…” Chun Tao hesitated. “The Marquis’s household sent gifts again.”
Shen Jin’s chopsticks froze. “Again? What this time?”
“Pastries.” Chun Tao lifted a celadon plate from the food box. On it sat delicate plum-blossom–shaped cakes, so pretty they looked more like ornaments than food.
“What kind of pastries?”
“They’re called plum blossom crisps. The kitchen made them specially. The young heir heard you were unwell and had these prepared to whet your appetite.”
Shen Jin stared at the cakes, her expression complicated.
Xiao Heng… oh, Xiao Heng. For a grown man, you’re awfully clingy. First, an apology gift, then medicine, now pastries. What’s next—flowers?
“Leave them there,” she said.
“Miss won’t eat them?” Chun Tao swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the cakes. “They smell wonderful.”
Shen Jin gave her a look. “You want them? Go ahead.”
“Really?” Chun Tao’s eyes lit up, but then she shrank back. “No, no… they’re for you. How could I?”
“I said you can. Eat.” Shen Jin pushed the plate toward her.
Chun Tao carefully picked one up, took a bite, and her eyes widened. “Miss! These are amazing!”
Watching her maid’s delight, Shen Jin sighed inwardly. In this unfamiliar world of ink and paper, the only person she could truly rely on was herself. No—that wasn’t quite true. Chun Tao counted too. Silly at times, but genuinely loyal.
“Chun Tao,” Shen Jin asked suddenly, “if one day I leave the capital, will you come with me?”
Mouth full of pastry, Chun Tao mumbled, “Of course. Wherever you go, I’ll follow.”
“Not afraid of hardship?”
“As long as I’m with you, even eating husks and wild greens is fine.”
Shen Jin looked at her earnest face, warmth blooming in her chest. In this strange world, having someone who truly cared was a blessing, even if that someone was her predecessor’s maid, not hers.
But right now, Chun Tao’s devotion belonged to her, Shen Jin.
“Good,” she said with a smile. “Remember your words today.”
That afternoon, Shen Jin had Chun Tao move a lounge chair into the courtyard to bask in the sun. March in the capital was perfect—neither too hot nor too cold. She reclined lazily, flipping through an old miscellany from the bookshelf. The traditional characters were tricky, but thanks to her inherited memories, she could muddle through most of it.
“Miss,” Chun Tao said as she embroidered nearby, “why are you so quiet today?”
“When am I not quiet?”
“You weren’t like this before. Last time you were confined, you smashed everything in sight. The General nearly locked you in the woodshed.”
Shen Jin turned a page. “Smashing things is exhausting. And you have to buy replacements afterward. Waste of money.”
“…Miss, have you been… traumatized lately?”
“No.” She closed her eyes, enjoying the sunlight. “I just figured something out.”
“What’s that?”
“Life is short. Why make it harder for yourself?”
Chun Tao nodded vaguely and returned to her embroidery.
After a while, footsteps approached from outside the courtyard. Not one person—several. Shen Jin cracked an eye open. The steps drew closer, accompanied by a shrill, girlish voice. “Elder Sister—Mingzhu has come to see you again—”
Shen Jin shut her eyes.
Again. Was this half-sister bred from flies? Impossible to drive away.
Today, Shen Mingzhu wore a goose-yellow jacket and a silk flower in her hair, looking fresh and charming. Two maids followed—one carrying a food box, the other a vase.
“Elder Sister,” Shen Mingzhu beamed, “I brought you something nice.”
Shen Jin didn’t even lift her eyelids. “What nice thing?”
“Mother had the kitchen stew bird’s nest porridge to nourish you.” Shen Mingzhu gestured for the maid to set it down. “And these plum blossoms I picked this morning—brighten your room, make it cheerful.”
Shen Jin opened her eyes and glanced at the vase of plum blossoms. It was arranged beautifully—red blossoms in a white porcelain vase, spaced just right. This half-sister did have an eye for aesthetics.
“Thank you,” Shen Jin said. “Leave it there.”
But Shen Mingzhu showed no intention of leaving. Instead, she sat down on the stone bench nearby. “Elder Sister,” she tilted her head, “why haven’t you gone out these past two days?”
“Confined.”
“But confinement only means you can’t leave the estate. You can still walk around inside. You used to love the garden—why not go now?”
Shen Jin lowered her book and looked at her. This girl’s words were all probes. Testing whether she was truly ill, whether she was hiding something, whether she had changed.
Shen Jin suddenly smiled. “Mingzhu,” she said, “are you so concerned because you want me to take you to some banquet?”
Shen Mingzhu’s expression froze for a moment. “No, no,” she waved quickly. “I only care about you.”
“Is that so?” Shen Jin’s gaze was meaningful. “Then let me tell you a secret.”
Shen Mingzhu’s eyes lit up. “What secret?”
“I’ve been studying health preservation,” Shen Jin said solemnly. “The first principle is—talk less, sleep more. So in the future, if you have something to say, send a maid with the message. No need to come yourself. I’ll be sleeping; no time to chat.”
Shen Mingzhu’s face flushed red, then paled. She opened her mouth, but seeing Shen Jin’s half-smiling eyes, she swallowed her words.
“Then… Mingzhu won’t disturb Sister’s rest.” She rose, curtsied, and left with her maids. At the gate, she turned back once. Her gaze held doubt, unwillingness, and a faint trace of fear.
Only after she was gone did Chun Tao whisper, “Miss, if you treat Second Miss like that, won’t she complain to Madam?”
“Let her.” Shen Jin reclined again. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“But…”
“Chun Tao, remember this.” Shen Jin closed her eyes. “In this household, the more you care about what others say, the more they control you. Stop caring, and they lose their grip.”
Chun Tao nodded thoughtfully. She didn’t fully understand, but it sounded wise. The old Shen Jin had cared too much. The Crown Prince didn’t like her—she made a scene. Others mocked her—she cried. Now, Shen Jin cared about nothing. Not the Crown Prince, not her reputation, not anyone’s opinion. Was this change good or bad?
Chun Tao didn’t know. But she felt her mistress was far happier now.
At the Marquis’s residence, Xiao Heng frowned at the latest intelligence report.
It read: “Miss Shen did not eat the plum blossom crisps, gave them all to her maid. Briefly conversed with half-sister Shen Mingzhu, with a cold and distant attitude. Afterward, she basked in the sun, reading miscellany. No other actions.”
Xiao Heng tapped his finger on the words *did not eat the crisps*. Then on *cold and distant*.
This woman was distant with everyone. With him, with her stepmother, with her half-sister. Like a hedgehog bristling with spines, keeping all at bay. No—that hedgehog’s spines were for protection. What was she afraid of?
He thought long, but found no answer, and his curiosity grew. “Steward Chen,” he called.
The steward entered. “Young Master.”
“Find out what miscellany Miss Shen has been reading lately.”
“…Yes.”
Steward Chen withdrew, muttering inwardly. Since when did the Young Master care about miscellanies? No—he cared about the person reading them.
Steward Chen shook his head.
The heir was twenty-two. The Marchioness had pressed him to marry for three years, but he never yielded. Countless maidens in the capital dreamed of marrying into the Marquis’s house, yet he ignored them all.
And now? One night with General Shen’s daughter, and suddenly he was invested. Fine—but that young lady was notorious. Wild, scandalous, obsessed with the Crown Prince.
Steward Chen sighed. The Young Master’s taste was truly… unconventional.
That night, Shen Jin tossed and turned, unable to sleep, not from lack of drowsiness, but from too many thoughts.
One more day of confinement. After tomorrow, she could leave the estate. And then? The original Shen Jin’s goal was to marry the Crown Prince. Hers was simpler: to live. But living wasn’t enough.
She wanted comfort, freedom, flavor. To live comfortably, she needed money. The household allowance was meager, and the original Shen Jin had squandered most of it. No savings.
She had to earn. But how? What could a modern woman do in ancient times? Write novels? Her stories would be dismissed as madness. Do business? No capital, no connections.
She thought hard—then a spark. Cooking. The original Shen Jin had never touched kitchen work. But she had. Five years of living alone in the modern world had taught her enough. Not gourmet, but solid home cooking. And her dishes—hotpot, spicy broth, pickled fish, sweet-and-sour ribs, cola chicken wings (well, no cola, but wings could be flavored otherwise)—were unknown here.
If she opened a restaurant, or partnered with someone… The more she thought, the more excited she became. Sleep fled.
Chun Tao stirred awake. “Miss… what’s wrong?”
“Chun Tao,” Shen Jin sat up, “do you think my cooking would taste good?”
“…Miss, when have you ever cooked?”
“I mean if.”
Chun Tao thought. “If you did, it would be delicious. You’re good at everything.”
Shen Jin laughed. “You really know how to flatter.” She lay back down, a hazy plan forming. Once confinement ended, she’d find a chance to try. If she could make a living through food, she’d never have to worry about princes, Xiao Heng, stepmothers, or half-sisters again. She could support herself and do as she pleased.
Thinking of this, she finally drifted off. In her dream, she owned the grandest restaurant in the capital. Lines stretched out the door, customers clamoring for her signature dishes. Xiao Heng was in line too. She waved from behind the counter. “Young Master, we’re full today. Come back tomorrow.”
His face darkened.
Shen Jin laughed aloud in her dream.