In the seventh month of the twenty-eighth year of Zhao Wu, the summer heat was unbearable and hard to shake off.
Lady Liang, the wife of the Marquis of Jing’an, pointed at her second daughter and scolded angrily: “Thank heavens, the Marquis of An Yuan’s household has finally set a wedding date—October twenty-eighth. That’s less than three full months from now. I told you to properly embroider your wedding clothes, but here you are, sleeping soundly in broad daylight. How can you not be worried at all?”
Second Miss Xie Lanqi hung her head and listened to the lecture. If not for her sleepy eyes and the clear bamboo mat patterns pressed into her fair, tender face, Lady Liang might have actually believed her obedient and gentle act.
After scolding for a while, Lady Liang sat down on the rattan chair and fanned herself vigorously.
Xie Lanqi tactfully took the chilled sour plum soup from the maid’s hand and personally offered it to her mother.
Lady Liang was both hot and thirsty. She accepted it, took a sip, and found it refreshingly cool and smooth. The balance of sour and sweet was just right, and there was even a faint osmanthus fragrance. Before she realized it, the cup was empty.
Feeling a little embarrassed, Lady Liang glanced at Xie Lanqi, who looked completely relaxed and showed not the slightest sign of worry. The remaining anger in her heart turned into concern instead.
“Qi girl, you’re already eighteen—not a child anymore. You can’t keep putting all your thoughts into eating and drinking. Your marriage to the Heir of the Marquis of An Yuan was arranged when you were very young, but the An Yuan household kept delaying year after year. Only now, when they could delay no longer, did they finally set a date.”
Remembering the unspeakable secret behind it all, Lady Liang looked at this daughter who had not grown up by her side. Though their mother-daughter bond was not deep, she was still flesh of her flesh. Her heart ached.
“You refuse to take any of your own maids as dowry bed-warming girls. Mother has already bought suitable ones for you. But with your carefree attitude, how can Mother feel at ease letting you marry into the Marquis of An Yuan’s household?”
“Mother, if you don’t feel at ease about Qi’er, Qi’er also can’t bear to leave you. Please let Qi’er stay a few more years.” Xie Lanqi said quietly. It wouldn’t be long—just six more years. Once she reached twenty-four, she could leave this place and go home.
“Silly girl, what nonsense are you talking about? Don’t you know how happy your father and I were when the An Yuan household sent the betrothal gifts and fixed the wedding date? It finally settles one of our biggest worries.”
Xie Lanqi blinked her lashes, hiding the emotions in her eyes, and said softly, “Mother, I’m afraid.”
Lady Liang’s face stiffened. Of course she knew exactly what Xie Lanqi was afraid of. She pulled her daughter close and spoke sternly: “Keep that matter locked inside your stomach. Not a single word must leak out—remember this.”
“Madam, the Marchioness of An Yuan has sent someone with a calling card.”
“Bring it here quickly.” Lady Liang set aside her instructions to Xie Lanqi and hurriedly opened the card.
“Going to Youfu Temple to offer incense tomorrow?”
Lady Liang felt puzzled. Although the children of both families had been betrothed since childhood, the engagement had been made almost jokingly by the two old grandfathers. Ever since her Qi girl was born, she had suffered one illness after another. The Marchioness of An Yuan had always openly and secretly looked down on her frail, sickly daughter.
The two families were not close at all. Why would the Marchioness suddenly invite her to bring Qi girl along to offer incense at Youfu Temple?
“Get up early tomorrow and dress up brightly and beautifully.”
After giving these instructions, Lady Liang left with her attendants, still thinking about the matter.
Xie Lanqi watched them walk away, then half-lay back on the bamboo couch. “The little maid at the gate gets one demerit. Die Meng, note it down.”
“Yes, Miss.” Her senior maid, Die Meng, responded. “Miss, shall we embroider the wedding clothes now?”
Xie Lanqi let out a quiet sigh.
She remembered how she had studied desperately—hanging from the ceiling by her hair and stabbing her thigh with an awl—to get into a top university. During four years of undergraduate and three years of graduate school, she studied hard while working part-time jobs to earn money. The hardships were too many to tell outsiders.
The year she graduated with her master’s, her family’s bad luck finally ended. Good fortune arrived: not only did they pay off all their debts, but their old family house in the hometown was demolished for redevelopment, and they suddenly became rich.
Her parents felt sorry that their daughter had suffered with them for years. They used part of the demolition money to pay the down payment on a two-bedroom apartment inside Beijing’s Third Ring Road. Her job search went smoothly too—her major was solid, she passed the bar exam with high scores, and she entered a top-tier “red circle” law firm.
Right after graduation: apartment secured, excellent job secured, loving parents. A beautiful life was waving at her.
Then she fell asleep—and woke up as a newborn baby girl in the Marquis of Jing’an’s household in the Great Yue Dynasty.
Xie Lanqi could not accept it. Refused to accept it.
Fortunately, she met a wise master. With one glance, he saw through her origins and left her with just one sentence: “Silly child, this is all a Zhuangzi butterfly dream. When the year of flowering comes, the great dream returns—do not lightly throw away your life.”
Xie Lanqi pulled herself together. The “year of flowering” meant twenty-four years old. Her only goal was simple: live peacefully and steadily until she turned twenty-four, then go home.
Living a laid-back, go-with-the-flow life, Xie Lanqi had no desire to marry.
Although the Marquis of Jing’an and his wife felt only faint affection for their second daughter, she was still their own flesh and blood. She had no high expectations of them either. Both sides could get along amicably.
Compared to the Jing’an Marquis household, the An Yuan Marquis household was like a dragon’s pool and tiger’s den. Her nominal fiancé, the Heir of the Marquis of An Yuan, already had someone in his heart and was said to be arrogant and wild. Her future mother-in-law, the Marchioness of An Yuan, never hid her disdain for her weak and sickly body. Surviving in that environment would be hell difficulty.
Xie Lanqi rejected the marriage with both body and soul. This wedding must be canceled.
As for embroidering the wedding clothes—she absolutely would not do it.
“These embroidery needles make my eyes dizzy. No sewing today. Bring the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. I’ll copy a few pages of scripture.”
Die Meng, as the senior maid of the second miss, knew her temperament well. She said nothing more, ground the ink, and glanced over—sure enough, Miss was silently copying the Nanhua Sutra (Zhuangzi) again.
The next day, at Youfu Temple.
“Miss, the Marchioness of An Yuan has arrived. Her face looks very dark—not like someone here to offer incense, but more like someone coming to demand punishment,” Die Meng said worriedly.
Xie Lanqi had been dozing with her head nodding little by little. She had been dragged out of bed before dawn by Lady Liang, bathed, dressed, and made up. Hearing this, she immediately became alert.
“My feet are numb. Help me up.”
Lady Liang had never liked her dressing plainly. She had dressed her according to her own taste: layers of powder and rouge on the face, gold and jade ornaments on her head, neck, and hands. Full formal attire in the middle of summer heat—she was truly suffering.
Leaning on Die Meng, Xie Lanqi walked toward the quiet room where Lady Liang was resting. Before she even entered, just as she reached the corridor, she heard the sound of arguing voices coming from inside.
“Lady Luo, this marriage was arranged long ago by the elders of both families. The wedding date has already been set. If you force our Marquis household to break off the engagement, where does that leave the face of the Marquis of Jing’an household?”
The Marchioness of An Yuan came from the Luo family, born into a military household. Her personality was domineering and direct—she never beat around the bush.
“Lady Liang, allowing you to be the ones to propose breaking it off is already giving your Jing’an Marquis household some dignity.” Lady Luo’s eyes blazed with fury. “This marriage must be canceled. If you won’t do it, then our An Yuan Marquis household will—and then you will truly lose all face.”
Lady Liang was furious. “The wedding is less than three months away. Breaking it off now—you are trying to force my Qi girl to her death! You are bullying us with your power. I refuse to believe there is no justice left in this world.”
Lady Luo became even angrier. The Jing’an Marquis household had declined generation by generation, and now they were clinging desperately to her An Yuan household. “Justice? Your Jing’an household is marrying a girl whose body has already been ruined to my son—what exactly are your intentions? If you want justice, I can call people here to judge this matter. Do you dare?”
“Nonsense! My Qi girl is completely innocent and pure. Lady Luo, even if you have climbed onto a higher branch now, your heart cannot be so vicious as to cut off her path to live.” Lady Liang panicked inside and spoke without thinking. Even if this marriage could not go through, she could not accept this basin of dirty water being poured over them.
Lady Luo’s rage boiled over. She had originally planned to leave some room, but now she wanted to make this scandal known throughout the city. “You knew perfectly well that your daughter’s body was ruined and she could never bear children in this lifetime, yet you still wanted to marry her to my son. You are trying to cut off my son’s legitimate line—truly vicious and cruel to the extreme.”
It was as if she had been slapped hard across the face. Lady Liang felt dizzy and faint. The thing she feared most could no longer be hidden. Very few people knew this secret—how did the Marchioness of An Yuan find out? Was she bluffing? She could not admit it.
“Still refusing to admit it? I have someone here. Let him confront you face to face.” Lady Luo was both furious and gloating. She had long wanted to break this engagement—she would make the Jing’an Marquis household lose all reputation. “Bring Zhang Wu over.”
Lady Luo’s trusted nanny, Ping Mama, responded and left. When the door opened, Xie Lanqi appeared in front of the two women, swaying unsteadily. Her small, palm-sized face was deathly pale. She trembled as she bowed to them.
“What are you doing here? Get out!” Lady Liang shouted loudly.
Lady Luo sneered. Her prejudice against Xie Lanqi ran deep—she had always deeply disliked this sickly girl. “Why so panicked? Feeling guilty and afraid to face people now?”
Xie Lanqi collapsed against her senior maid Die Meng. She covered half her face with a handkerchief. Her thin shoulders kept shaking.
“Madam, Zhang Wu has been brought in.”
Lady Liang saw the middle-aged man being forced to kneel on the ground. All color drained from her face.
“Lady Liang, surely you recognize this man?”
Lady Luo was completely confident of victory. She deliberately tormented the mother and daughter. “Zhang Wu, do you know them?”
“I know them, I know them well. The wife of the Marquis of Jing’an and the Second Miss. Three years ago, the Second Miss of the Jing’an Marquis household suddenly fell gravely ill. Famous doctors were invited everywhere, but none could cure her. In the end, they invited my father. My father prescribed a formula, and the medicine cured the illness instantly.”
The middle-aged man with cloudy eyes spoke fawningly.
“What formula did he prescribe?” Lady Luo asked.
“I didn’t learn enough from my father—I can’t recite the whole prescription. But I remember when my father was carefully preparing it, he kept sighing long and short, hesitating. I found it strange and asked if the illness was incurable. My father said it could be cured. I was puzzled—if it could be cured, why not treat it right away?”
Zhang Wu shook his head dramatically. “Later, I overheard my father telling the Marquis of Jing’an that the prescription contained a large dose of musk. It cured the illness, but she would never be able to have children for the rest of her life.”
“Lady Liang, are you still going to deny it?” Lady Luo’s gaze was icy and mocking.
……
“Young Master, you’re finally awake!” The little page boy Shang Xian cried until his face was a mess of tears. “If you hadn’t woken up, I was going to run back to the residence for help—sob sob sob.”
The Heir of the Marquis of An Yuan, Zhao Jin, stared blankly as tears streamed down his face. Grief and regret twisted his internal organs. The pain was so intense he could barely breathe. She was gone. The person no longer existed in this world. His virtuous wife—gone forever.
“Young Master, where are you hurt?” Shang Xian’s hands and feet trembled. Good heavens—his Young Master had been stabbed, shot with arrows, covered in blood like a gourd, and never shed a single tear. How could he fall off a horse and start crying?
Shang Xian checked him up and down. The commotion finally made Zhao Jin glance at him. “You are… Shang Xian?”