In the Ningxiang Pavilion, the warm breeze drifted through, scattering flower petals across the courtyard.
A maid guarding the carved nanmu door was dozing off when a lively young maid hurried in.
She approached the sleepy maid and poked her forehead with a delicate finger, whispering:
“Zhu Mo, you’re dozing again. Has the young lady shown any signs of waking?”
Zhu Mo jolted awake and, seeing it was Lan Jian, smiled:
“Miss hasn’t woken yet.”
Lan Jian rolled her eyes, lightly stepped over the threshold, circled the Xiangfei bamboo screen, and entered the inner chamber.
The room was filled with a subtle fragrance. On the Zitan carved bed, layers of mist-blue gauze hung like delicate clouds, thin as cicada wings.
In the Shu brocade quilt lay a girl with a jade-like complexion and delicate features.
Her cloud-black hair was spread casually across the pillow, her brows slightly furrowed, eyes half-closed—she was clearly not sleeping peacefully.
“No… sister!” The girl suddenly cried out, sitting upright in alarm.
Lan Jian hurried forward, supporting her:
“Miss, was it a nightmare?”
She was puzzled—there was only one young lady in the house. Where did this “sister” come from?
Sui Changle pressed her racing heart and looked around the familiar room with bewildered eyes.
This was her boudoir… how could this be?
Hadn’t she died miserably in the palace? Why was she now in her pre-marriage room?
“Miss, do you feel unwell?” Lan Jian asked, handing her a bolster so she could lean back slightly.
Sui Changle shook her head slowly, her gaze brushing over Lan Jian’s pretty face before lowering her lashes to hide her emotions.
It was so good—Lan Jian was still here!
After a long moment, she touched her own cheek. Her skin was warm and smooth, like polished jade.
No scars, no blemishes from that horrific past life.
Her face remained calm, but inside, a storm raged.
Could it be… she had been reborn?
“Miss, are you getting up?” Lan Jian asked gently, lifting the gauze.
Sui Changle looked into Lan Jian’s crescent-shaped eyes and nodded:
“Yes, I’m getting up.”
Lan Jian helped her to her feet and called out to the outer room:
“Miss is awake!”
Just then, Zhu Mo and Ju Yan entered side by side.
Sui Changle froze for a moment at the sight of the two living maids.
In her past life, they had accompanied her to marry into the Second Prince Xiao Chengrui’s residence, ultimately dying to protect her.
Seeing Zhu Mo and Ju Yan helping her dress, her eyes ached. She asked softly:
“Where is Mei Yin?”
Zhu Mo, adjusting her clothes, smiled:
“Mei Yin went to the madam’s to deliver a message.”
Sui Changle nodded and slowly sat at the vanity while Ju Yan combed her hair.
She gazed at her reflection—bright, delicate, with a youthful face—and her mind swirled.
Tomorrow would be her thirteenth birthday. In two years, she would be sent to the Second Prince Xiao Chengrui’s household.
She, the sole granddaughter of the Grand General, daughter of a top scholar, born noble… yet she could only become a secondary consort.
Sui Changle’s eyes darkened with bitterness.
No one knew the truth about her “devoted” father.
Not only did he already have a wife and daughter in the countryside, he also kept a concubine in the capital.
In the capital, people said the General’s daughter was fortunate, marrying a devoted and loving husband, who would never take a concubine.
But no one knew the truth. She and her mother were deceived by a wolf in Zhongshan.
He abandoned his lawful wife, tricked her mother into believing he had not married, and coaxed her mother into a false marriage.
He secretly raised a concubine’s children in the capital, of similar age to Sui Changle.
When Second Prince Xiao Chengrui tried to woo her maternal family unsuccessfully, Sui Jingxing used her grandfather’s trust to frame the General’s household.
In his study was a forged letter accusing the General’s family of treason.
The household was destroyed; ancestors who bled for the borders were wiped out; their name defiled.
Meanwhile, her “devoted” father doted entirely on the concubine.
To make the concubine the head lady of the Sui household, he framed her mother for adultery.
To make the concubine’s daughter Sui Jiaojiao Empress, he harmed his own daughter.
To make the concubine’s son Sui Lingyun rise in rank, even the foolish sister was used as a pawn.
Her “good father” trampled over her maternal family’s corpses, living in wealth and glory with the concubine’s family.
Sui Changle’s eyes went icy.
Sui Jingxing… Chu Rou’er… Sui Jiaojiao… Sui Lingyun… Xiao Chengrui…
This life, this world—she would not rest until every last one of them paid.
“Miss, does this look good?” Ju Yan finished her braid, pinning a few delicate velvet flowers.
Sui Changle, still lost in thought, was jolted by the question.
“Yes… good…” She blinked, slightly dazed, staring at herself in the mirror.
The girl in the reflection was delicate, but her eyes held sorrow beyond her years.
A sudden impulse gripped her—she hurriedly rose:
“I must go see Mother!”
Lan Jian, Zhu Mo, and Ju Yan exchanged worried glances.
Today, the young lady seemed different. Normally graceful and poised, she now appeared restless and distracted.
They followed quickly, fearing she might stumble or get hurt.
Sui Changle abandoned all her practiced manners, running in hurried, uneven steps.
She darted down the corridors, skirts flaring like a gust of wind.
Arriving at Wen Shiyi’s brocade garden, she hesitated, unsure to approach.
She feared what she saw might be only a pre-death illusion.
“Miss, are you all right?” Lan Jian’s face filled with concern as she noticed her stop.
Sui Changle did not answer. She took a deep breath, lifting her foot step by step into the courtyard.
The yard was quiet, awash with blooming flowers of all colors.
A small maid outside curtsied:
“Greetings, Miss!”
Sui Changle waved and hastened inside.
As she stepped in, a familiar fragrance instantly filled her senses.
She skirted around the exquisite zitan screen, eyes landing on the room.
Wen Shiyi sat at the desk, concentrating on copying Buddhist sutras.
She wore a Su embroidery brocade blouse, her skin fair, features stunning, hair loosely pinned with a white jade hairpin.
Seeing Sui Changle, Wen Shiyi slowly put down her brush and walked over:
“Changle, perfect timing. Mei Yin and I were just discussing your birthday banquet tomorrow.”
Sui Changle stared at her mother, her eyes brimming with tears.
In her past life, her mother had been schemed against and hung herself to prove her innocence.
But mother… how could the schemers not know your innocence?