Miss Su was skeptical, but she truly didn’t want that vixen marrying into the family.
Feng was a notorious temptress in Meng County[1]A county was a local administrative district in imperial China, generally administered by a magistrate. Meng County is a place in this story; its precise historical setting is not established here. jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3717502_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3717502_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });, always using her pretty face to act sweet and pitiful.
If not for that, her stepmother wouldn’t have been so cruel as to send her off to live in the countryside.
Who would’ve thought that even out in the country, the vixen wouldn’t settle down? She’d turned around and started seducing Miss Su’s father!
“Fine!” Miss Su was young and easy to provoke, and she agreed at once. “I’ll go make a scene with your stepmother, but you’re not allowed to keep pestering my father!”
“That won’t do.” The vixen’s brows drew together slightly, but she flatly refused. “Your father may be getting on in years, but older men know how to treat a woman. Besides, your family’s grain business is so prosperous. If I marry in, I’ll have a mountain of gold and silver I can never spend.”
“My mother approves of this marriage, and so do I.” Feng fanned herself with her handkerchief. It was hot, and her cheeks were flushed, her skin as smooth as jade. She spoke with a faint breathlessness, as delicate as a willow in the wind.
Miss Su could only think that Feng really was a fox who’d cultivated for a thousand years and become a spirit[2]In Chinese folklore, a fox can become a supernatural fox spirit through long cultivation. Such spirits are sometimes portrayed as alluring or deceptive; here the comparison is an insult, not proof … Continue reading jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3717502_1_2').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3717502_1_2', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });!
Not only had Zhao Jinfeng bewitched Miss Su’s father—even Miss Su herself had nearly been bewitched by those few words!
Feng planted a hand firmly on Miss Su’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. Once I marry into the family, I’ll treat you as my own. I’ll dote on you, too, and find you a handsome, considerate husband just like your father—”
Miss Su seemed to have made up her mind. She suddenly spun around and ran toward the main street.
No!
She absolutely couldn’t let that vixen marry into the family!
Handsome and considerate?
Which of those four words described her father?
She had to go make a scene with Feng’s stepmother!
Caihuan casually held out the handful of melon seeds in her hand. “Why’d she run off?”
Feng curled her lips into a smile. “Maybe she’s so happy at the thought of becoming my daughter.”
Caihuan looked in the direction Miss Su had gone and slapped her thigh. “Oh! She’s probably off to raise a ruckus at our house!” She frowned, thinking that Miss Su was just a girl and couldn’t stir up much trouble. “I just hope Madam hasn’t already secretly agreed to this marriage.”
“She wouldn’t dare.” Zhao Jinfeng chuckled and touched the flower in her hair. “I’m still in mourning[3]Filial mourning for a deceased parent traditionally involved prescribed rituals and restrictions on celebrations and marriage. The exact rules and duration varied by period and family. jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3717502_1_3').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3717502_1_3', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });. At most, she can help look at potential matches. Besides, Second Brother has to take the county-level examination[4]A local stage of the traditional civil-service examination system, through which candidates sought qualifications to advance to higher examinations. Procedures varied across dynasties. jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3717502_1_4').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3717502_1_4', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], }); in a couple of years. No matter how much she wants to marry me off, she still has to think about her son.”
Even so, the thought still rankled Zhao Jinfeng.
She was seventeen now. If her cheap father hadn’t died, her predecessor[5]In transmigration fiction, a predecessor is the person who previously lived in the body or identity now occupied by the protagonist. jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3717502_1_5').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3717502_1_5', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], }); would have been forced to marry a year ago.
Though mourning had temporarily spared her, she had only two months left.
As soon as the mourning period ended, Madam Yan would force her into marriage.
The situation was grim—
Zhao Jinfeng had even considered accepting the offer Gang Leader Cao had made her. She was still at least a little tempted by the position of Second Gang Leader in the Qingshui Gang.
It was just…
Taking to banditry was her Plan Z.
The best possible plan, of course, was to grab hold of Number Twelve and make him fall hopelessly in love with her within two months, then have him carry her off by force to some faraway place and marry her—
Making a man fall in love with her was as easy as breathing for Zhao Jinfeng.
In her previous life, she’d been single her whole life, but her girlfriends had nicknamed her “the master strategist.” She might never have eaten pork, but she’d seen pigs run[6]A Chinese saying meaning that firsthand experience is not the only way to learn something; observation can also teach you. jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3717502_1_6').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3717502_1_6', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });—
And she’d seen them run dozens of times!
“Miss, should we go home and take a look?” Caihuan fretted. “If Madam sees us in town—”
“No. Let that old hag enjoy a few more peaceful days.” Zhao Jinfeng pointed at a lively chicken in the market. “Buy one. We’ll go back and make chicken soup for Number Twelve.”
Caihuan was reluctant to part with the money. “The first eleven never got chicken soup. Why should this boy get any?”
Zhao Jinfeng patted Caihuan’s shoulder earnestly. “If you want to get something, you have to give something first. If you won’t part with a chicken, you’ll never catch a man—”
Caihuan simmered the chicken soup with a heavy grudge.
After Master died, Madam had branded Miss with the accusation that she’d brought about her father’s death, then driven her to the countryside.
In the winter, when water froze as soon as it dripped, she and Miss didn’t even have a decent set of clothes between them. Madam had driven them out practically naked. Over the past few months, Madam hadn’t given them a single copper coin; she clearly meant for the mistress and maid to die at the farmstead.
Though Miss had earned a little money by scamming and swindling people lately, they were still scraping by.
And now they were eating chicken?
Did that pretty boy Number Twelve deserve it?
Caihuan picked out the two chicken legs and carried them to Zhao Jinfeng. As soon as she entered, she saw her young mistress sitting before the window.
The window prop lifted, revealing her mistress’s lovely profile.
Those distant-mountain brows, almond eyes, and cherry lips—especially those eyes. Caihuan wanted to throw herself into that pool of spring water and drown.
Her young mistress… was so beautiful.
Forget that old geezer Su wanting to marry her mistress—Caihuan herself wished she could grow a couple of ounces of manhood and marry her!
Only when Caihuan drew closer did she hear her mistress muttering at the wall, saying “Brother” one moment and “Fenger, little sister” the next. Caihuan was startled. “Miss, why is your voice hoarse?”
“Oh, this is called a breathy voice. It can make people so dizzy they don’t know which way is up.”
Caihuan nodded, indicating she understood. “Like a love potion.” She put the two big chicken legs in a bowl and held it out. “Miss, have a chicken leg.”
“One each.” Zhao Jinfeng was reaching into the bowl when she suddenly sensed a sticky gaze. She turned her head and met the eyes of the person on the bed.
They were beautiful eyes.
It was as if stars had fallen into them; now they were sparkling at her.
Those eyes left Zhao Jinfeng dizzy, and one thought filled her mind: Oh no, there goes my chicken leg.
A beautiful, delicate green-tea[7]Modern Chinese slang for someone who appears innocent or delicate while deliberately manipulating others, especially in romance. jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3717502_1_7').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3717502_1_7', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], }); white lotus[8]Chinese internet slang and fiction shorthand for someone who seems pure, gentle, and harmless; it can be used ironically for someone performing that innocence. jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3717502_1_8').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3717502_1_8', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], }); wouldn’t roll up her sleeves and gnaw on a chicken leg like a starving ghost—
Zhao Jinfeng swallowed hard. Her eyes grew dewy as she abandoned all the breathy-voice practice she’d done earlier, leaving only a choked note of reluctance.
“Young Master[9]A respectful form of address often used for a young man, particularly from a well-off or prominent household. It does not by itself establish an official rank. jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3717502_1_9').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3717502_1_9', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });, would you… like some chicken?”
Number Twelve had woken up.
Awake, Number Twelve was even more handsome.
He propped himself up, sitting with a dazed look in his eyes. He wore plain white robes, the collar hanging open and crooked, revealing the faint outlines of his chest muscles.
Even the light seemed to favor him.
It rested in a thin layer over him, making him seem like a dream, like an immortal in a painting.
Zhao Jinfeng’s gaze was irresistibly drawn downward.
Number Twelve struggled to lift his head and look around. Then his eyes settled on Zhao Jinfeng’s face, and his voice was even breathier than hers.
“Miss… where… is this?”
“This is Niujia Village, in Meng County.” Zhao Jinfeng walked slowly closer, recalling all the tragic romance novels she’d read in her previous life. She quickly and precisely found her role. In theory, men all loved gentle, scheming white lotuses.
What luck.
Her predecessor was a white lotus.
And she— was green tea.
Zhao Jinfeng adjusted the silver hairpin in her hair, then glanced down at herself. Today she wore coarse hemp clothes, without a single extra adornment, and looked utterly harmless.
“You were lying on the post road, covered in blood. My maid and I saved you.” As she spoke, Zhao Jinfeng had Caihuan pour a cup of water.
Caihuan hurried off, delighted. Water was good—if he filled up on water, he wouldn’t steal the big chicken legs from her and Miss—
A moment later, the water was ready. Zhao Jinfeng held out the cup, her voice turning sweet and breathy. “Young Master, were you being pursued by enemies?”
The man’s low, husky voice seemed to tickle her ear.
This is going to be the death of me, you shameless lech.
Abs like that would be one thing, but you’ve got a breathy voice too—
Number Twelve, how many more surprises do you have in store for me?
References[+]