Jiang Shiyao had been reborn.
One moment, the suffocating sensation of drowning overwhelmed her; the next, a soft, tender voice filled her ears.
“Mother, Fu’er wants to eat chestnut cake.”
A small, delicate hand tugged at her index finger, swaying it gently. With tear-filled eyes, Jiang Shiyao pulled her vibrant, lively daughter into a tight embrace.
Thankfully, heaven had given her a second chance—her daughter was still alive and well.
She was from Chuzhou. Her mother had passed away early, and when she was fourteen, her father succumbed to illness while her elder brother lay gravely ill.
At her most desperate moment, she had sold herself into servitude at the Duke’s estate for ten taels of silver.
At eighteen, after the heir, Zhou Congxian, made a mistake in a drunken state, she became pregnant with Fu’er.
The heir arranged for her to have her own courtyard and assigned maids to serve her, making her his only concubine.
Jiang Shiyao was acutely aware of her lowly status. Before Song Jiyun married into the Duke’s estate, she had prepared herself for rejection.
During their first meeting, Song Jiyun specially brought pastries for Fu’er and later frequently invited the child to the main courtyard to play. Each time, Fu’er returned with new clothes and trinkets.
Later, the Dowager suggested that a daughter of a concubine should be raised by the principal wife to secure a better future.
Jiang Shiyao hesitated, but knowing she couldn’t provide a promising future for her daughter, she reluctantly agreed.
Within a year, her daughter’s health deteriorated rapidly.
When Jiang Shiyao questioned her privately, Fu’er claimed the principal wife treated her very well, but fear was unmistakable in her eyes.
Jiang Shiyao wanted to bring her daughter back, but before she could wait for the heir to return, the principal wife arrived with a group to ransack her courtyard.
Adulterous letters and numerous “evidences” of an illegitimate pregnancy were “discovered” in her bedroom.
“The lowly concubine Jiang has defiled the inner quarters, conceiving a bastard with an outsider and attempting to deceive everyone!”
Mingyu, who had always served by her side, sobbed, “Please don’t blame me, mistress. I was caught when fetching the abortion medicine.”
She hadn’t done it.
It was all a false accusation.
But Song Jiyun gave her no chance to defend herself. Wielding a handwritten note from the heir, she ordered Jiang Shiyao to be drowned in a pig cage!
Her frail, young daughter stumbled forward, pleading for mercy.
“Mother, please spare my birth mother!”
Song Jiyun pinched Fu’er’s sharp, thin chin, her eyes filled with disgust. “Still calling her ‘mother’? What an ungrateful wretch!”
“Fine. Since you’re so attached, you can accompany her on the journey to the underworld—neither of you will be lonely.”
“Guards, drown them!”
“No!” Fu’er screamed, wrenching herself free from Song Jiyun’s grasp and clinging desperately to the pig cage. “Don’t hurt my mother! Get away!”
Though only five years old and emaciated to the point of being unrecognizable, the little girl displayed astonishing strength. For a moment, two matrons couldn’t pull her away.
Jiang Shiyao understood everything: the principal wife had been married for a year without conceiving, while she had Fu’er and was now pregnant with a son.
Without a legitimate son born first, a son of a concubine would take precedence.
How could the principal wife tolerate her?
There was no way out for Jiang Shiyao—she could only beg for her daughter’s life.
“Madam, I confess to my crimes. I beg you, please spare Fu’er for the sake of the year she has spent with you.”
Tears streaming down her face, Jiang Shiyao curled up in the pig cage and kowtowed deeply, her forehead touching the ground.
“Spare her?” Song Jiyun stared at Jiang Shiyao’s abdomen, her fingers twisting the edge of her handkerchief fiercely. “I’ve been married for a full year without even a whisper of pregnancy, and you—”
She cut herself off, took a deep breath, and resumed her dignified, faint smile. “Never mind. In recognition of your service to the heir, I’ll let you and your daughter journey together.”
Suddenly, Fu’er coughed violently, and a mouthful of fresh blood gushed out.
Her eyes were wide open, as if they might fall out.
Her entire being resembled a soulless shell, utterly lifeless.
Jiang Shiyao watched her daughter stagger backward, a strange flush appearing on the little girl’s face.
Suddenly, she recalled the “nourishing milk” delivered daily to the main courtyard—no wonder her daughter had resisted drinking it so fiercely. So, she had already laid her poisonous hands on her.
“Fu’er!” Her choked cry was trapped like a caged animal.
Song Jiyun took a half-step back in disgust, covering her nose and mouth with a handkerchief. “Why are you still standing there? Deal with her quickly!”
“Song Jiyun! May you die a wretched death!!!”
Icy lake water flooded her nostrils. Jiang Shiyao struggled to lift her head, only to see Fu’er being shoved violently into the water by an old servant.
Her heart bled with anguish. The frigid water choked her, sapping her strength until she could only watch helplessly as the lake engulfed her, as her daughter sank into the depths.
“Mother, why are you crying?”
A pair of small hands touched her cheeks, sleeves carefully wiping away her tears.
Jiang Shiyao pulled herself from the suffocating weight of her memories.
Trembling, she gazed at her daughter—her plump, fair cheeks glowing with health.
“Mother isn’t crying—she’s happy!”
“Madam, Miss Song is here.” The maid Mingyu lifted the curtain and entered, only to find mother and daughter clinging to each other in tears.
“Why are both Madam and the young miss crying?”
“It’s nothing.” Jiang Shiyao paused as she wiped her tears. “Miss Song?”
Song Jiyun’s face flashed through her mind. Her long nails dug deep into her palms, forcing herself back from the brink of losing control.
“Madam, what’s wrong?” Mingyu asked, bewildered.
When Jiang Shiyao looked up again, the torrent of hatred in her eyes had vanished.
“Invite Miss Song in. Take Fu’er inside to practice her calligraphy.”
Song Jiyun entered with her maid Zisu, carrying a food basket. Her gaze swept dismissively across the room, as if everything beneath her notice.
She fanned herself idly with a handkerchief. “This room is so small it can’t even hold my clothes properly.”
Zisu presented the basket. “Madam Jiang, our young lady came to visit the Old Mistress and specially detoured to Dexing Tower to bring pastries for Sister Fu.”
“Since Madam seldom goes out, you might not know—Dexing Tower’s pastries aren’t something money alone can buy!”
Jiang Shiyao sneered inwardly. Behind that hypocritical mask lay a venomous heart—did she think a few broken pastries could buy her a good reputation?
“Dexing Tower’s pastries! Thank you, Miss Song, for remembering Fu’er.”
Instead of accepting the basket, Jiang Shiyao lifted the lid.
“Hey!—” Zisu’s face changed, but it was too late to stop her.
Most of the pastries inside were crushed.
Jiang Shiyao gasped. “They’re all broken!”
Zisu hadn’t expected such rudeness—to open the lid before even accepting the gift.
She glanced quickly at her mistress’s expression and seized the initiative. “They were perfectly fine when I brought them! You must have broken them by opening the lid carelessly!”
Jiang Shiyao smiled. “How amusing, Miss Zisu. I merely observed the pastries were broken—I never implied blame.”
“Whether perfect or ruined, they represent Miss Song’s kindness to Fu’er. Pastries are fragile by nature. Yet you seem overeager to pin fault on me.”
Song Jiyun’s expression tightened slightly. She cared little for Jiang Shiyao—just a plaything for men’s amusement, unworthy of serious regard.
After a pause, she lifted her eyes and rebuked, “Zisu, have you forgotten your manners the moment we stepped out?”
Noticing a tall figure approaching from outside, Zisu immediately dropped to her knees.
“The young lady is most kind. This humble servant was merely feeling indignant on Miss’s behalf!”
Zhou Congxian looked at Zisu kneeling on the ground. “What happened?”
Jiang Shiyao immediately interjected, “Please don’t blame her, Young Master. Miss Song specially brought pastries for Fu’er, but they happened to break. Miss Zisu mistakenly thought I would reprimand her, and words were exchanged in the heat of the moment.”
In her previous life, she had been unprepared. Zisu had directly handed the pastries to Fu’er, but how could a three-year-old hold them properly?
The pastries had scattered all over the floor. While she was busy comforting her daughter and hadn’t noticed the Young Master’s arrival, Zisu had taken the blame, saying she hadn’t held them steady and that Fu’er hadn’t dropped them intentionally.
The pastries were made with milk, which Fu’er disliked. The child had immediately burst into tears, refusing to eat them.
Zhou Congxian had coldly remarked that she had spoiled their daughter, making her unruly and wasteful of others’ kindness.
Remembering this, Jiang Shiyao’s gaze fell upon Mingyu. Both Mingyu and the wet nurse, who attended to Fu’er closely, knew the child disliked milk.
Zhou Congxian didn’t even glance at the basket of broken pastries. Instead, he nodded to Song Jiyun and said, “Thank you for your kindness, Miss Song. Pastries are fragile—it’s of no consequence.”
Of no consequence?
Jiang Shiyao abruptly raised her eyes to look at him.
In her previous life, when it clearly wasn’t Fu’er’s fault, he had scolded her for being unruly. Even if it had been Fu’er’s fault, why couldn’t he have said “it’s of no consequence” to a three-year-old child?
Song Jiyun lifted her chin slightly, a faint smile curling her lips. A mere lowly concubine—hardly worth her making a special trip. Her mother had simply been overthinking things.
With that thought, she couldn’t be bothered to spare Jiang Shiyao another glance.
“I’ll go keep Grandaunt company now.”
Watching Song Jiyun’s retreating figure, Jiang Shiyao nearly gritted her teeth to dust. So, the signs had been there all along.
Zhou Congxian asked, “Where is Fu’er?”
“Replying to Young Master, Fu’er is inside practicing her writing.”
Zhou Congxian nodded and entered the inner chamber. As Jiang Shiyao turned, she caught a fleeting glimpse of infatuation in Mingyu’s eyes.
When she looked again, Mingyu had already lowered her head.
Jiang Shiyao narrowed her eyes slightly.
Mingyu—so you betrayed your mistress this early.
In the inner chamber, little Fu’er, remembering her mother’s instructions, was diligently practicing her writing.
Her chubby little hand clutched a large brush that seemed ill-suited to her size, earnestly drawing horizontal strokes on the paper, as if completely unbothered by the monotony.
Zhou Congxian wrapped his arms around his daughter from behind, his large hand enveloping her small one and the brush.
“Fu’er, when writing, you must have a starting momentum and a finishing momentum. Only then will the characters take shape. Don’t underestimate this single horizontal stroke—when I was a child, I practiced this stroke for two years.”
Fu’er turned her head and saw her father. “Papa! But what is momentum?”
Zhou Congxian guided his daughter’s hand stroke by stroke, explaining as they wrote.
Jiang Shiyao watched her daughter’s smiling face, her fingers clenching into fists inside her sleeves. The safety of her and her daughter hung in the balance.
Song Jiyun would undoubtedly marry into the household, and she and Fu’er would tread the same deadly path as in their previous life.
Her gaze fell upon the food basket on the table.
A moment later, she raised her hand and summoned Mingyu inside.
Jiang Shiyao brought out a small, jingling box from her dressing table. Fu’er, with a child’s curiosity, was immediately captivated.
Zhou Congxian patted his daughter’s head. “Focus on your writing.”
When he looked up, he saw Jiang Shiyao taking out a pitifully small amount of silver from the box and handing it to Mingyu. “Go to Dexing Tower and buy some chestnut cakes. Don’t get any with milk—Fu’er doesn’t like them.”
Zhou Congxian spoke up, “With so little silver, you’d best not go to Dexing Tower.”
Jiang Shiyao looked at him, embarrassed. “I apologize for the laughable sight, Young Master. I have no means of earning money and have only managed to save this much over time.”
Zhou Congxian lifted his daughter from behind the table. “Tell Father, what does Fu’er like to eat?”
The little girl immediately wrapped her arms around her father’s neck, her eyes curving into happy crescents. “Chestnut cake!”
After a pause, she added, “No milk!”
Zhou Congxian’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Alright, no milk.”
Fu’er leaned closer to her father’s ear. “Mother likes sweet tofu pudding best.”
Zhou Congxian tapped his daughter’s tiny nose. “You little rascal.”
“Come, Father will take Fu’er to Dexing Tower to reward her for practicing calligraphy so diligently today.”
As the three were leaving, they happened to meet the Zhou family’s third young lady, Zhou Wanqing, and Song Jiyun.
Zhou Wanqing called out, “Oh, elder brother, where are you going?”
Jiang Shiyao followed behind, quietly performing a greeting gesture.
Zhou Congxian gently patted his daughter’s back. “Fu’er, greet them.”
Sitting in her father’s arms, Fu’er clasped her chubby little hands before her stomach and bowed.
“Fu’er pays respects to Third Aunt.”
Song Jiyun smiled with curved lips. “Little Fu’er, why don’t you greet me too?”
Fu’er pressed her small lips together, fidgeted slightly, but remained silent.
A flicker of displeasure passed through Song Jiyun’s eyes before she softened her smile again.
“Today is the Shangsi Festival. Is Brother Congxian taking Lady Jiang and Fu’er to Feng River to see the molten iron fireworks?”
Zhou Wanqing chimed in, “We’re going too! Why don’t you come with us, elder brother!”
Then she turned to Jiang Shiyao. “The Feng River banks will be crowded today. It’s so inconvenient with a child. The molten iron fireworks aren’t only available during Shangsi Festival anyway. In a few days for the Empress Dowager’s birthday, there will be fireworks throughout the city – you can watch them without even leaving home!”
Jiang Shiyao obligingly took her daughter. “The Third Young Lady is right. The heir should go with you two young ladies. This concubine will take Fu’er to Dexing Tower herself.”
Zhou Congxian merely glanced at her and responded with an “Mm.”
Jiang Shiyao carried her daughter into the carriage.
Only after they had left Vermilion Bird Street and could no longer see the Duke’s residence did she tap the carriage wall.
“To the West City Horse Market.”
She needed to inquire about black market travel permits at the horse market.
The capital wasn’t impenetrable – where there were people, there was business. Every household and estate had runaway servants, as well as unconventional young masters and misses.
Exit permits were a business – besides the government offices, the black market could issue them too.
This time, even if it cost her entire fortune to obtain two forged travel permits, she would take Fu’er and escape this devouring mansion.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to stay for revenge, but she simply lacked the capital for it. She had no foundation in the Duke’s residence.
In her previous life when she was drowned in a pig cage, he hadn’t even shown his face – she hadn’t even been given a chance to defend herself.
After Song Jiyun entered the household, her first step had been to take Fu’er away under the pretext that “a concubine’s daughter needs the main wife’s upbringing.”
She had watched helplessly as her daughter transformed from a lively, laughing child into a timid, coughing invalid – the “milk” delivered daily had long been laced with poison that damaged the heart and lungs.
She looked down at her daughter’s chubby little hands, remembering the miserable state she had been in when drowned in her previous life.
Revenge could wait, but her daughter’s life couldn’t.
According to the trajectory of her previous life, Song Jiyun would enter the household in three months. If they couldn’t escape the capital before then, they might not even have a place to be buried!
As for those disloyal maids and matrons, she would definitely make them pay!
“What are you going to the horse market for?” Zhou Congxian’s question interrupted Jiang Shiyao’s thoughts.
The man who had clearly left earlier had returned, directly pushing open the carriage door and climbing in.
His narrow, cold eyes swept over the mother and daughter.
“You… how did you come back!” Jiang Shiyao blurted out.