Consciousness was like drowning in a deep sea, struggling to surface, finally breaking through the water’s tension…
Sheng Minglan caught a faint, lingering scent—a sweet, warm fragrance of milk mingled with the slight, familiar aroma of medicinal herbs…
With a trace of unknown dread, she forced her heavy eyelids open. Her vision remained blurred for a long while before finally coming into focus—
What met her eyes was a face as beautiful as a hibiscus, with willow-leaf brows and apricot eyes, and skin fairer than snow. Yet, between those brows hung a cloud of worry and deep exhaustion.
At this moment, those eyes—which in her past life always seemed to hide endless calculations—were staring at her without blinking. Was that… a look of tenderness and maternal love she had never seen before?
Minglan’s heart gave a sudden, violent throb!
Good heavens!
Who else could this face belong to but the “star of the Southern Opera Troupe,” her step-mother-in-law, Madam Qin?!
Had she not burned to death long ago in the Gu family ancestral hall?!
She instinctively tried to pull back, only to find her body soft and strengthless, completely beyond her control.
Looking down, she saw a pair of chubby, white arms like lotus roots, wrapped in a scarlet swaddle made of silk and cotton. It was embroidered with vermilion, stone blue, apricot yellow, and gold threads in an intertwined pomegranate and daylily pattern…
What?
She, Sheng Minglan, had actually not drunk the Meng Po Soup?
Not only had she been reborn, but she had been born as Madam Qin’s own biological daughter?!
This was simply too absurd…
Minglan tried to struggle, but could only let out a faint, soft “yi-ya” sound.
“Is Sister Yi awake?”
What? A voice so soft it could practically drip with water came from above her head.
A warm, delicate hand gently stroked her head and cheek. “Is Mommy’s darling Sister Yi hungry? Mommy will have the wet nurse come right away!”
Sister Yi?
Gu Tingyi, the legitimate fourth daughter of the Gu family?
Minglan was forced to accept this identity.
After the initial shock and resistance passed, what followed was vigilance…
However, she quickly realized that in this life, Madam Qin’s treatment of her “daughter” was truly wholehearted, regarding her as a precious treasure.
It was a meticulous level of care that far exceeded the dignity required for a legitimate daughter of a Marquis estate. That love was almost obsessive and overly anxious, as if Minglan were a precious yet fragile glass doll that could not withstand even the slightest bump.
This kind of cherishing made Minglan’s mind drift back to another pair of hands—the hands of her birth mother, Madam Wei.
Those slender hands had always been slightly cool and somewhat rough, with a layer of thin calluses where the fingers met the palm. They would stroke her cheek with affection, yet Madam Wei had never dared to embrace her so freely and tightly…
That love had been hidden in the depths of timid and sorrowful eyes, hidden in the lamplight while she embroidered “Lady Li Garrisoning the Lady’s Pass” through the night, hidden in sighs of hesitation, and even more so in the earnest words of “a parent’s love for their child must be guided by long-term foresight”… but in the end, it had turned into a wisp of cold regret that could not be grasped upon a blood-stained birthing bed.
And now, she was wrapped airtight in this blazing and tense affection. The warmth was real, yet it caused a sour, aching throb in her heart for no reason.
It was as if fate had played a massive joke on her. What she had once sought but could not obtain was now being granted to her several times over in this life—and in such an unsettling manner…
This kindness left Minglan confused, even uneasy.
She watched coldly from the sidelines. In front of others, Madam Qin remained that dignified and virtuous wife of the Marquis, still capable of “performing” as if she were in a Southern Opera Troupe. But whenever she held Minglan in private, the lingering haze in her eyes became impossibly thick, as if there were some unsolvable knot in her heart, or as if she were constantly at war with herself…
Doubt grew in Minglan’s heart, but she dared not show the slightest sign of it. She cautiously played the role of an ignorant infant, working hard to gather all kinds of information around her.
Linking her past life’s memories to the current timeline, she knew that this was the Ningyuan Marquis Estate. The current Marquis was her “father,” Gu Yankai, while her “second brother,” Gu Tingye, seemed to frequently lose his temper with the family and run away from home, and her “third brother,” Gu Tingwei, was a mischievous troublemaker…
Chapter 1: Once Fearing the Temperature of the Soup, Now Too Idle to Distinguish the Sweet and Sour of the Preserves
Time flew by. The tiny infant who once struggled feebly in a silken brocade swaddling cloth had now become the renowned pearl and youngest legitimate daughter of the Ningyuan Marquis Estate—Gu Tingyi.
The five-year-old child wore her hair in playful double snail-buns, interwoven with softly shimmering gold threads. Small tassels of colorful gemstones hung from her temples, swaying gently with her cheerful steps.
She wore a gold-threaded hundred butterflies through flowers cloud-pattern brocade jacket, a specialty of Jiangning Prefecture. The antennae and wings of the butterflies were embroidered with incredibly fine strands of multicolored silk; it took skilled embroiderers months to complete, making them appear as if they might take flight in the light. Over this, she wore a vermilion silk kesi sable and rabbit-fur waistcoat. Around her neck was a red gold coiled chi dragon necklace, from which hung a longevity lock inset with a thumb-sized piece of suet jade, engraved with the seal script for “Prosperity and Longevity Forever.”
This entire ensemble was something even a commandery princess of the capital would barely match.
Whether it was food, clothing, housing, or travel, everything was exquisite and meticulous, personally selected by her mother, Madam Qin. The finest fabrics and the trendiest playthings from the Marquis Estate’s storehouse were always sent to Sister Yi’s room first.
If Ming Lan coughed even slightly during the night, Madam Qin would be so anxious that she could not sleep all night. She would keep watch personally, testing the temperature of every medicinal soup and meal against the webbing of her own thumb before feeding it to Ming Lan spoonful by spoonful.
Forget the members of the Marquis Estate; even the visiting relatives and nobles all knew that the Marchioness of Ningyuan valued this late-born legitimate daughter more than her own eyes.
At this moment, Ming Lan was snuggled in her mother Madam Qin’s arms, traveling south to Yangzhou in a vermilion-wheeled canopy carriage.
The interior walls of the carriage were covered in brand-new soft satin, and the windows were hung with green gauze curtains. Through the gaps in the curtains, one could see the misty, rain-shrouded scenery of Jiangnan.
In one corner of the carriage, a bronze crane-shaped incense burner was secured, puffing out the sweet scent of goose pear tent incense to dispel the damp cold of the journey. Thick rugs were spread beneath them, and on a small table sat Yue kiln celadon plates filled with freshly picked loquats and honey-preserved fruits carved into the shapes of flowers.
On the surface, this trip south to Yangzhou was because a distant kinswoman of Madam Qin’s had been blessed with a son. The Marchioness was going to offer her congratulations, while also taking advantage of Yangzhou’s mild climate to nurture the “frail” (Note: Madam Qin’s unilateral determination) constitution of Sister Yi.
In truth, Madam Qin harbored a private wish she was unwilling to speak of—she simply wanted to take her daughter far away from the suffocating cage of the capital’s Marquis Estate, a place filled with invisible schemes and undercurrents. She sought a quiet place where her Sister Yi could catch her breath without a care in the world.
Madam Qin held her in her arms, cradling a filigree enamel hand-warmer in her hands, fearing that the girl might catch even a hint of a chill.
“Sister Yi, look,” she said softly, pointing out the window. “This is Yangzhou. ‘Ten miles of Yangzhou road in the spring breeze’—that is the scenery they speak of.”
Ming Lan—now Gu Tingyi—took a small sip of the warm honey-preserved golden orange infused beverage, the sweet flavor dissolving on her tongue. She raised her eyes to look at the misty pavilions outside the window, her mind momentarily dazed.
Once upon a time, she had been this same age, yet she had lived in a cramped courtyard in the back of the Sheng Family household. Wearing a faded summer hemp shirt, she had watched her sister Molán, dressed in a brand-new lake silk skirt, acting coquettishly before their father.
She could only hold the rough, cold hand of her birth mother, Madam Wei, hiding behind a corridor pillar. Even eating one extra piece of fruit meant she had to endure the glares of the kitchen crones.
In those days, the rooms always had a lingering smell of mold. In winter, the charcoal was never enough, and even a small hand-warmer was a luxury beyond reach.
But now…
She shifted her body slightly, pressing closer to her mother Madam Qin behind her.
Madam Qin noticed immediately. Holding her tighter, she asked with concern, “Sister Yi, was it a bump in the road? Or have you caught a chill?” Her tone carried the meticulous love of a mother, along with a trace of nervousness.
Ming Lan shook her head and said softly, “I’m not cold. Mother’s arms are the warmest.” her voice was sweet and soft, carrying the innocent charm of a child.
Deep in her heart, however, a faint but incredibly clear mixture of sorrow and liberation spread…
So this was what it felt like to be loved unreservedly by a mother. Using imperial kiln porcelain, eating freshly made honey preserves, wearing kesi silk that was worth its weight in gold, and traveling in a four-horse canopy carriage.
There was no need to be cautious, no need to watch others’ expressions. All good things were brought before her without her needing to strive or fight for them. Every storm was blocked firmly ahead of her by someone else.
This overwhelming fortune, this airtight doting love, was like a gentle restorative medicine, quietly nourishing the heart that had once withered and cracked amidst indifference and calculation in her past life.
In this life, she was no longer the minor concubine-born daughter of the Sheng Family, Ming Lan, who had to live at the mercy of others and plan every step.
She was Gu Tingyi, the youngest legitimate daughter of the Ningyuan Marquis Estate, the precious treasure held at the very center of her mother Madam Qin’s heart.
The clamor of the marketplace drifted from outside the carriage curtains, yet it felt as if it were separated by an invisible barrier.
Ming Lan narrowed her eyes slightly, watching the Yangzhou streets flash past the window, with wine flags fluttering and the faint sound of music and singing. In this small, warm, and fragrant world, she only needed to be a cherished child.
This feeling… felt like a lifetime ago.