Sir, your letter…
Auntie Zhang, who cooked at the private school dining hall, caught sight of the armed guards standing behind Feng Yi. She shrank her neck and lowered her voice.
Give it to me.
Feng Yi took the letter and explained, They are my cousin’s guards. There is no need to be afraid, Auntie Zhang.
She turned over the envelope, and as her eyes fell upon the familiar handwriting, she already understood what it was about. She asked casually, When did this letter arrive?
Yesterday afternoon… around the second quarter of the Wei hour.
Auntie Zhang rubbed her hands nervously. You were in class at the time, and just then my youngest sister had a terrible stomachache. I was so flustered that I completely forgot about it… I hope this hasn’t delayed anything for you?
Feng Yi smiled bitterly. By that time, Jiang Xingzhou’s horses had likely already stepped into the borders of Ruyi Town. Even if she had received the letter then, what difference could it have made? It would only have meant several more hours of unnecessary worry and fear.
Truly, such is fate! Such is destiny!
It is nothing urgent, just a routine greeting from a friend.
She spoke gently to reassure her. You may go back to your work, Auntie Zhang.
Once in her study, she unfolded the letter. Sure enough, it contained only three characters written in bold, cursive script—written with such force that the ink seemed to press through the paper, revealing just how anxious the sender was.
It read: Yi Yi, run!
Run? There is nowhere to run, Moon.
He is already here!
Feng Yi lit a flint and burned the letter to ashes. If he were to see it, Moon would surely face trouble for it.
The dancing flames reflected in her eyes, blurring her thoughts into a haze.
How on earth had she managed to draw this calamity into her life?
Perhaps… it was simply retribution.
After all, she was the one who had started everything.
This was the world of the novel titled The Moon Shines Over a Thousand Miles, and she herself was its author.
The reason she had ended up here was utterly absurd.
Nowadays, readers would complain if the female lead suffered, and complain if the male lead suffered. So she had turned her pen and directed all her harsh plotlines toward the second male lead.
Just as she was enjoying the process of writing him through one hardship after another, her readers had grown furious.
Out of nowhere, a so-called Second Male Lead Rescue System had kicked her straight into the pages of her own book, leaving her with a cold, mechanical message:
Detected intense resentment from readers. Per the directive, the author must personally rescue the second male lead, Jiang Xingzhou, and help him achieve a happy and fulfilling life. Upon successful completion of the mission, you will be returned to your original world and awarded a lottery ticket worth fifty million. If you fail, the author’s consciousness will be erased.
After delivering the message, the system vanished completely. It left her with no special advantages, no hidden tools—not even a single thread of help.
What exactly counted as a “fulfilling life”? What had become of her body back in her own world? What would happen if she died here? Not a single word of explanation was given.
Thankfully, she had woken up in the body of Jiang Xingzhou’s nominal cousin.
In the original story, this character had been brought into the Marquis’s residence by her aunt, who intended to offer her as a concubine to Jiang Xingzhou. But because she was timid and shy, she had been sent away shortly after. The role was barely fifty words long, and Feng Yi had been too lazy to even give her a proper name, simply using her own.
At first, she had felt confident. As the creator of this world, she had a bird’s-eye view of everything. Surely dealing with a fictional character she herself had written would be as simple as turning her hand over?
But she had been wrong. The people here had warm blood flowing through their veins, the seasons changed in clear cycles, joy and sorrow were all real, and the society was harsh and unforgiving.
This place was far more like a genuine parallel world.
Yet if it truly was a parallel world, why did all the major events and the fate of the characters still match so closely what she had written?
She could not help but recall when she first began writing the story. Ideas had flowed freely, and words had poured from her brush as if guided by some unseen force. Every character had felt as if they were alive. Back then she had thought it was just her natural talent, but now she wondered if that had really been the case.
Teacher?
The voice of her student Wang Yue pulled her back from her tangled thoughts. The young man waved a hand in front of her face with concern. The hour has come—it is time for class.
When Jiang Xingzhou awoke again, the sun was already high in the sky. He opened his eyes to see curtains of pale purple silk, and for a brief moment he paused. Then a satisfied smile spread across his lips, brighter even than the sunlight streaming through the window.
He pulled the blanket close, breathing in deeply the sweet, unique scent she had left behind, before finally sitting up.
Creak—
The rickety wooden bed groaned under his weight, swaying slightly. His brow furrowed. What kind of life was this woman living without him? Even her bed was barely sturdy enough to use.
He had intended to send his men to the county town to buy a new, strong bed, but then thought better of it. He would be returning to the capital in just a few days anyway, so why bother? Besides, he did not want strangers entering her private chambers. He would simply repair it himself.
My Lord.
Qing Shan stepped forward as soon as Jiang Xingzhou stepped out of the room.
Mm.
Jiang Xingzhou nodded. Who has been keeping watch over her?
Qing Feng has been… keeping watch over the mistress.
Qing Shan chose his words carefully.
Mistress? She is no mistress of mine.
His tone was cold and emotionless.
Then… should we call her Young Cousin?
Seeing that his master was in a good mood, Qing Shan dared to tease lightly.
Cousin? Don’t even use that word.
Jiang Xingzhou’s smile vanished instantly.
Very well.
Qing Shan quickly adjusted. Then Teacher Feng?
Qing Shan, you will train for an extra hour today.
With that punishment issued, Jiang Xingzhou walked into the main hall. As he looked around the layout of the small courtyard, a bitter, jealous feeling rose uncontrollably in his chest. She certainly treated that mother and daughter well—living herself in the side room while leaving the larger, brighter main quarters for them.
He knelt down before Yangyang, who was sitting on a rough-woven mat building with blocks. Little girl, what is your formal name?
Yangyang turned her plump little body around, showing him only the back of her round head, making it clear she did not like him.
Jiang Xingzhou let out a soft scoff. Just like her guardian—stubborn as a mule.
When Jiang Xingzhou arrived at the private school carrying a specially prepared food box, Feng Yi was already teaching her class.
He leaned against the window frame and watched in silence. This group was made up of boys around eleven or twelve years old. In another part of the yard, an older scholar was leading a group of children aged six or seven in reciting classics in the sunlight, while on the other side, children of eight or nine copied essays carefully.
In this small school, more than fifty students were arranged in an orderly fashion.
Today she was teaching The Analects: The Chapter on Expressing Aspirations. There was no denying it—she was born to be a teacher. She explained the text from simple concepts to deeper meanings, progressing step by step, using language that was easy to understand yet still carried weight and dignity.
Halfway through the lesson, she unconsciously rubbed her lower back. A deeper, pleased smile appeared in Jiang Xingzhou’s eyes, mixed with a hint of pride.
Since we are speaking of aspirations, let us talk about your hopes for the future.
Feng Yi noticed that most of the boys were avoiding her gaze, and smiled gently. Do not be nervous. This is just a casual conversation—you may speak freely.
She called on the most energetic student in the class. Ji Yinghe, you go first.
The boy stood up straight, his voice loud and clear. Teacher, I want to become an official one day—a good official who speaks up for the people.
Good.
Feng Yi nodded with approval. You have high ambitions and a heart for the common folk. That is admirable. Let me give you a few words to remember.
Looking directly into his eyes, she spoke with steady strength. Remain true to your original purpose, and you shall reach your goal.
Yes, Teacher. I will remember your words.
With that encouraging start, the atmosphere in the classroom became lively. One by one, the boys stood up. Most hoped to pass the imperial examinations and enter government service. Some wanted to become teachers themselves, or doctors who could heal the sick. Others were more practical, hoping to become shopkeepers or accountants—all paths considered respectable in their society.
Finally, only two had not yet spoken: a quiet, shy boy who usually kept to himself, and the only girl in the group.
Feng Yi turned her gaze softly to the boy. Qiu Shi, what about you?
Zhuang Qiushi stood up nervously, his head hanging almost to his chest, his voice barely audible. I… I want to study farming. I want to learn how to grow crops that produce more grain…
This simple, humble wish drew laughter from the whole class. Zhuang Qiushi’s face, already flushed, turned bright red, as if it might burst.
Silence!
Feng Yi’s expression grew stern. She tapped the book she held firmly against the desk. A sharp crack echoed through the room, quieting everyone instantly.
Zhuang Qiushi jumped in fright, stammering. Teacher… I… I am sorry…
You have no need to apologize.
When Feng Yi looked at him again, her face had softened into a warm smile. Zhuang Qiushi, you have done nothing wrong. You have a truly great dream.
She turned to look at every student in the room. The people are the foundation of a nation, and food is the most important need of the people. Where does food come from? From farming. If you can develop better seeds and make the granaries of the world full, then no one in this country will go hungry. When the people have enough to eat and wear, the nation will be at peace. And when there is peace, prosperity follows—and a prosperous people make a strong nation.
Her eyes returned to Zhuang Qiushi, who was now trembling with excitement. Qiushi, what you hope to do is a deed of immense merit. Your teacher is proud of you.
Truly… truly?
His face was still red, but his shoulders lifted, and his chest puffed out slightly.
Of course. When have I ever lied to you?
At that moment, Feng Yi did not realize that this encouragement would one day help raise the first great agricultural scientist in the history of the Great Zhou Dynasty.
A Lan,
Feng Yi turned to the last student, her voice even softer. What about you? What are your thoughts?
Wang Lan stood up, her face filled with confusion. Teacher, I do not know.
Her voice was quiet but clear. Everyone says that when a girl reaches a certain age, she must marry, serve her husband and raise children, respect her in-laws, and be a good wife, mother, and daughter-in-law.
My father loves me, so he let me study until I turned twelve. But after this month, I must return home and learn how to manage household duties.
Teacher, I do not know where my future lies. Or rather… my future is already written out before me.
Feng Yi felt as if her heart were stuffed with damp cotton—heavy and aching. Wang Lan was just as talented and hardworking as Ji Yinghe. But this was the way of the world. All the knowledge she had taught her seemed only to make this bright girl more aware of the chains binding her fate.
Sometimes she wondered: was it truly a good thing to teach girls? To let them see how vast the world was, only to leave them powerless to change the path set for them—was that kindness, or cruelty?
No, it was kindness. To see clearly made one human. To remain blind was to be nothing more than a puppet. Only when more and more women realized they were individuals first would they gain the strength to break free from the chains that had bound them for thousands of years.
She took a slow breath and spoke gently. A Lan, remember this: in life, we hold many roles. We are children, parents, and someone’s spouse. But before all of that, we are ourselves. You are Wang Lan, and I am Feng Qingyang.
Life indeed brings many things we cannot control, and I too have my own struggles. But within the choices we do have, we can adjust our direction and seek a path that brings us peace and contentment.
Your future may seem fixed, but it is not entirely so. The key is to know what you want, what you wish to do, and what kind of person you hope to become.
Wang Lan stared at her in silence, as if a thin veil of confusion had been lifted from her eyes. She sat down slowly, deep in thought.
Feng Yi looked out over all the young faces. You are no longer children, but young men and women—half adults already. Today, I will not give you empty words such as “people are not divided into classes, and no work is higher or lower than another.” Though that is what I believe in my heart, it is not the reality of the world. There are social strata in this life.
But what does it matter? As long as you keep your dignity, your integrity, and your spirit, you will never need to bow your back to anyone. And equally, you should never think yourself better than others, or look down upon those below you.
No matter what you achieve in the future—whether you serve in the highest court or tend the fields in the countryside—I hope you learn to respect yourselves and respect others. May you never forget where you came from, and may you always hold on to the heart of youth.
Sunlight streamed through the window lattice, falling softly upon her profile and shoulders, gilding her with a warm glow.
Jiang Xingzhou gazed at her, completely captivated. His heart was filled with a swirl of emotions—bitterness, warmth, and a deep, indescribable pride.
What kind of world must it be to give birth to such a pure and bright soul?
Yes—pure.
But her purity was not like a blank sheet of silk, ignorant and unmarked. It was alive, transparent, and filled with every color—like light itself.
All the conflicting feelings inside him finally settled into a powerful urge to possess. He wanted so much to gather this light and hide it away, just as he had done before, so that it would shine only upon him.
When the class finally ended, Jiang Xingzhou walked over to Feng Yi. His fine clothes and commanding presence sent the curious students scurrying away, leaving the path back to the study clear and quiet.
He held out the covered pot. He Yun brewed this medicine for you. Is your stomach acting up again?
Her digestion had always been weak when she lived in the Marquis’s residence—too hungry or too full would bring discomfort. He had brought the imperial physician to treat her for months until she recovered. It seemed she had fallen back into old habits.
Just as he thought—without him, she could not take proper care of herself. It served her right. When they returned, he would have the physician tend to her properly once more.
Feng Yi paused in surprise, then accepted the pot. In an instant, she understood He Yun’s mischievous little joke. If only he knew that this was no medicine for her stomach, but something else entirely…
A faint, mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. She suddenly found herself eager to see his expression when he learned the truth.
My appetite is normal, so it is nothing serious. I only ate late last night, and felt a slight discomfort this morning. So I asked Auntie Yun to brew something to settle it.