At seventy-five, Xie Qing died on an overly bright early autumn day.
Outside the window, the sunlight was warm yet piercing, casting a glow over her pale, composed face.
She had never worn a wedding dress in her life, always dressed in sharply tailored iron-gray suits. She had never held a man’s hand, yet she had signed contracts worth hundreds of billions.
She was known in the business world as an “iron lady,” decisive and relentless, never once defeated.
She had neither suffered the pains of love nor enjoyed it… in fact, she didn’t even know whether it could be considered a blessing.
At the end of her life, she donated all her wealth. The lawyer asked if she had any final wishes.
She smiled slightly, the firm lines of her lips softening for the first time.
“In my next life,” her voice was faint, like a sigh, “I want to taste that bone-deep feeling. Bitter is fine too.”
In the next instant, her wish was granted.
Bitter!
Not the bitterness of taste, but the searing pain of her soul being torn apart, followed by a suffocating chill.
The rough hemp rope tightening around her neck, with its coarse, splintered fibers, burned against her skin. Each struggle only deepened the despair.
The metallic scent of death instantly filled her nose and mouth.
She suddenly opened her eyes. Her vision was blurred, but she could make out a rough hemp rope and the dusty beam above.
“Sa… save…”
She opened her mouth, but only hoarse, rasping sounds came out.
Instinct for survival overwhelmed everything. Using all her strength, Xie Qing grabbed the rope around her neck, trying to create even the slightest gap.
Bang—!
The door was kicked open.
“Miss!”
A figure cried out and rushed forward, wrapping its arms around her dangling legs. Another figure moved even faster, a servant who drew a blade and cut the rope in one swift motion.
Xie Qing fell heavily to the ground. When she came again, she found herself lying in bed.
“Sob… sob sob…”
Muted crying sounded in her ears. It was noisy.
That was Xie Qing’s first thought.
“Chun Cao.”
She spoke, accurately calling out the maid’s name. The memories of the sixteen-year-old girl, Xie Qingyan, surged into her mind like a tide.
Chun Cao turned around abruptly, stunned. She stared at the young lady on the ground, eyes wide with disbelief.
“Miss… y-you…”
Chun Cao hurried over, her hands trembling as she didn’t dare touch her.
“Water.”
Chun Cao hastily handed over a bowl of water.
Xie Qing propped herself up. Pain surged through her body, but she merely frowned almost imperceptibly and endured it. She took the bowl and drank it all in one go, finally feeling as though she had come back to life.
“Miss! You scared me to death! You scared me to death!” Seeing that she could drink, Chun Cao’s strained nerves snapped. She threw herself onto Xie Qing’s legs and burst into loud sobs.
“Why were you so foolish! The master and madam don’t want you, but Chun Cao does! Why did you hang yourself!”
Her crying was filled with lingering fear.
Xie Qing did not cry.
She couldn’t cry over something like this. Instead, she raised a hand and gently patted Chun Cao’s back, her gaze steady and composed, completely unlike that of a sixteen-year-old girl.
She began sorting through the memories of this body.
Xie Qingyan, the legitimate daughter of the Xie family in Leping County. Her father, Xie Wenyuan, was a short-sighted and ambitious seventh-rank county magistrate.
Her mother, Wang Shi, was timid and only knew how to obey her husband.
Xie Qingyan, a sixteen-year-old girl, longed for the freedom of the martial world described in storybooks
Her father had somehow secured a marriage alliance with a prestigious family in the Capital, intending to marry her off to a man named Wang Ping, the legitimate son of the Wang family.
Xie Qingyan refused.
She resisted and even went on a hunger strike. In response, her father thundered, “Parents decide marriages! Matchmaker’s word is law!”
Her mother wept and said, “Yan’er, pity your father. He’s desperate to advance his career in the Capital.”
To resist, she locked herself in her room and starved herself for three days. When her parents remained unmoved, despair took over her heart. She ran to the woodshed and hanged herself.
And then, the seventy-five-year-old Xie Qing arrived.
“…Miss…” Chun Cao sobbed, her voice trembling. “Let’s run away. If you don’t leave now, it’ll be too late.”
Xie Qing looked at her. “Too late?”
“On the eighth day of next month! The eighth day of next month!” Chun Cao stamped her feet anxiously. “The master has already agreed, and the betrothal gifts have been accepted. He said that even if you die, your ancestral tablet will be married over. On the eighth day of next month, they’ll come to force the marriage!”
Xie Qing closed her eyes, leaning against the cold wall as she processed the deadline.
She had weathered more storms in her lifetime than this little maid had eaten meals.
Was a forced marriage alone enough to make her die? In her previous life she had no man. Now in this one, she was being forced to her death by a man right at the start?
“Heh.”
Chun Cao’s crying stopped abruptly as she stared at her in a daze. Miss… was she laughing? Surely she hadn’t gone mad?
Xie Qingyan looked at the loyal maid.
“Chun Cao.”
“I… I’m here.” Chun Cao responded timidly.
“Go to the kitchen and bring me something to eat. A bowl of hot porridge.”
“Miss, this isn’t the time to eat…”
“Then,” Xie Qingyan interrupted her, her tone firm and unquestionable, “use every method you can think of.”
She paused slightly, then said word by word,
“I want all the information on that fiancé, Wang Ping.”
After a bowl of hot porridge, Xie Qingyan felt control of her body returning. Sitting in front of a mirror, the blurred bronze surface reflected the pale face of a young girl.
“Xie Qingyan…” she murmured to the reflection.
The most striking feature was the hideous purple-red mark around her neck, like an ugly, mocking collar, a testament to the original owner’s despair.
Xie Qing raised her hand and gently touched the burning mark.
“Sixteen years old, in the prime of youth.”
“To resist a man she had never even met, she chose this…” She curled her lips slightly. “Pathetic… but foolish.”
She looked into her own eyes in the mirror.
“That works too.”
Pressing her fingertip firmly against the mark, the pain sharpened her senses.
“Since I’m living in your place now, I’ll take over this body… and this marriage.”
“The engagement you didn’t dare break, I will.”
“The freedom you never had, I will fight for.”
“As for what I want…” She let out a soft laugh. The eyes of the girl in the mirror suddenly carried a light that did not belong to her age. “I lived seventy-five years without a man. Why would I fear a mere fiancé?”
“Miss!” Chun Cao pushed the door open, looking flustered, holding a piece of paper.
“You found out?” Xie Qing turned around.
“Miss, look at this!” Chun Cao slapped the note onto the table, her face flushed with anger. “This Wang Ping… he… he’s simply not human!”
Chun Cao had obtained the information from the kitchen’s Zhang Ma. Zhang Ma’s nephew had accompanied Xie Wenyuan to the Capital to deliver a message and had just returned, known for being loose-lipped.
Chun Cao had exchanged one of Miss Xie’s hidden silver hairpins for the information.
Xie Qing’s gaze swept over the thin piece of paper.
“Wang Ping. I am thirty-two years old. Legitimate son of a third-rank Censor.”
Xie Qing raised an eyebrow.
In her eyes, someone in their thirties was still a child. But in the Great Zhou, a man of that age still unmarried—or rather, still taking a wife was unusual.
She continued reading.
“Ugly, short, and dark-skinned.” Chun Cao added indignantly beside her. “Zhang Ma’s nephew said he saw him in person! Standing in the courtyard, he looked like a round lump of dried beans!”
“Lustful!” Chun Cao stomped her foot, pointing at the paper. “Miss, look at this—he hasn’t married yet, but he already has eight concubines at home! Eight!”
She trembled with anger, not daring to look at Miss Xie’s face, gripping the paper as if she wanted to tear it apart.
“He thinks he’s some kind of bean spirit! A man in his thirties, and still taking eight concubines!”
Her voice cracked with fury and a hint of tears.
“Miss! We absolutely cannot marry such a scoundrel, even if it means death!”
Xie Qing looked at the paper, then at the indignant Chun Cao, and couldn’t suppress a faint chuckle that turned into a weak cough.
This girl still had some genuine loyalty.
“Miss?” Chun Cao looked at her in shock. “You’re still laughing? And this isn’t a problem?”
“Chun Cao, you’re still too young.” Xie Qing set down the paper and picked up the now-cold tea, taking a sip.
“Ugly, short, and lustful—these don’t matter when weighed against power and wealth.”
“Think about it,” Xie Qing began, slipping into her familiar analytical tone, something she had done for decades.
“A third-rank official’s legitimate son. Even if he looks like a weight, as long as news spreads, there will be countless families in the Capital willing to send their beautiful daughters to become concubines just to curry favor with the Wang family.”
“So why would he need our family?”
Chun Cao was stumped. “But… but he’s seeking a wife, not a concubine…”
“That’s exactly the issue,” Xie Qing’s tone turned serious.
“If his family cannot find any suitable marriage alliance in the Capital, and cannot even make it known there…”
“Then they can only come to a small place like Leping County, using the pretext of helping us gain a post in the Capital…” She pointed to the final line of the paper.
【If successful, Xie Wenyuan may be transferred to the Capital and serve under Censor Wang.】