After half a shichen, Zhao Su Rui had figured out that his current body was named “Shen Shiqing”—the daughter of the late Grand Scholar Shen Shao, married to Xie Feng’an, the second son of Ning’an Count Xie Wen Yuan. Not only was she living as a widow in all but name, but she was also on the verge of being divorced and had already been sent to this small estate to kneel in the ancestral hall. One more step, and it would be a noose around her neck, sending her to the mass graves, with a report claiming she died suddenly of illness.
Hearing the maid named A Chi say that she had written two blood letters in the ancestral hall and sent them away with the martial maid Tu Nan, Zhao Su Rui laughed.
A laugh of sheer exasperation.
She wasn’t completely foolish, but to only think of seeking help at this point was far too late.
Shen Shiqing’s father, Shen Shao, had been deeply trusted by his late father and elder brother. Before he was forty, he had been appointed Grand Scholar of the Wenhua Hall, tasked with assisting his Crown Prince elder brother, and had also overseen the Director of Studies in the Southern Metropolitan Region. His disciples and old acquaintances were spread throughout the court and beyond. If nothing else, just by calling out a few “uncles” and “elders,” these reputation-conscious scholars would line up to take care of Shen Shao’s orphaned daughter.
To have resources and not use them—useless!
The estate they were in was shabby and devoid of any defensive measures. Since Shen Shiqing had a martial maid who could subdue these people, she should have fought her way through the moment those matrons arrived.
To face an enemy without striking first—useless!
Looking further back, that widow surnamed Feng wasn’t such a difficult problem either. Last year, after his crushing defeat of the Dorben Iron Cavalry in Moxi, he had declared that he would launch another campaign against Moxi within three years. Although Xie Wen Yuan held the title of Count, he had no actual achievements to his name, relying entirely on ancestral privilege. During his father’s reign, he had nearly lost his title. His efforts to curry favor with Feng Youqi, a mere third-rank Guangwu Guard Commander, were merely an attempt to gain military merit and rely on Feng Youqi’s support. But the reason Xie Wen Yuan had fallen to this state was his failure in procuring military provisions, which led the late emperor—Zhao Su Rui’s father—to strip him of all his official positions. For someone like him to regain an appointment, the first hurdle to clear was the Ministry of Personnel. The Vice Minister of Personnel, Li Hanqing, was Shen Shao’s close friend and a man of integrity. If Shen Shiqing had sought his help, she could have easily choked Xie Wen Yuan’s ambitions.
Making Xie Wen Yuan secure an appointment was difficult, but leaving him empty-handed was all too easy.
With countless paths available, she had ended up harming herself—the most useless of the useless!
A Chi studied her mistress’s shifting expression and cautiously touched her own neck.
She had been genuinely frightened earlier, but seeing her mistress red-eyed and asking who she was, she felt nothing but heartache.
Their mistress was truly pitiable!
Noticing the maid’s daring gaze, Zhao Su Rui, who had been cursing inwardly, glared back fiercely. Unbeknownst to him, Shen Shiqing’s delicate frown and reproachful eyes only made her appear more pitiable.
He weighed the pearl hairpin in his hand, considering whether to prick himself to see if he could wake up, but the pain in his shoulder persisted.
He pinched his shoulder and winced sharply from the pain.
But he still hadn’t “woken up.”
Suddenly, the door swung open, and a handsome woman dressed in a light green bijia like A Chi walked in, her face stern and a sword in hand. When she saw “Shen Shiqing” awake, her expression instantly brightened with joy:
“Mistress! You’re finally awake!”
Zhao Su Rui raised an eyebrow. As soon as this maid entered, he caught the scent of blood.
“Did you kill someone?”
“Ah?” Tu Nan was startled by her mistress’s words and quickly shook her head. “Young mistress, please don’t jest with me. The physician said you’ve lost too much blood and might have injured your internal organs. I slaughtered a chicken and stewed it with astragalus and angelica for you.”
Hearing it was a chicken rather than a person, Zhao Su Rui’s interest waned considerably.
He looked over this newly arrived maid and noticed her tall stature and steady footsteps—clear signs of some martial skill. Though no match for elite imperial guards, she could easily handle three to five men. She was indeed a rare martial maid.
The maid named “A Chi,” who had been keeping watch here, remained calm despite her anxiety, speaking clearly with a straightforward gaze—evidently wholly devoted to her mistress.
Judging the master by the servants, although Shen Shiqing lacked physical strength and held no real power, she still possessed some skill in managing subordinates.
However, in Zhao Su Rui’s view, having ability but lacking decisiveness, only daring to retaliate when pushed to the brink, still made her worthless.
Just then, A Chi cautiously approached Tu Nan and whispered, “The young mistress may have injured her head.”
Tu Nan’s eyes widened.
A Chi pointed to her own head and waved her hand. “She doesn’t recognize anything.”
Tu Nan was first shocked, then furious. “I’ll drag that head matron here and ask if she did something to the young mistress!”
A Chi quickly grabbed her. “The most urgent matter is to fetch the physician to examine the young mistress!”
Their hushed tussle didn’t escape Zhao Su Rui’s notice. He tilted his head, watching with amusement.
Compared to these two young maids, his own followers—chickens, dogs, cats, and rats—lacked such genuine, wholehearted devotion to their master.
“You want to see those detained matrons?” Zhao Su Rui’s interest returned. “Bring them here for me to see.”
When several Xie Family matrons were brought in, they saw their usually delicate, beauty lantern-like Second Young Mistress sitting askew on the bed with legs apart, holding a bowl of hot chicken soup.
Having been confined for most of the day without food or drink, the matrons knelt on the ground looking dejected. One wearing a blue silk jacket with a flat gold bracelet on her wrist clearly held some status before her masters.
Spotting Shen Shiqing, this matron immediately cried out, “Second Young Mistress, it’s wonderful that you’re alright! This old servant truly didn’t know how you suddenly injured yourself. The Old Madam having you copy sutras was entirely out of care, hoping you’d cultivate your mind and character. Your actions have wounded the Old Madam’s heart!”
These words had been carefully rehearsed in the matron’s mind. Tasked with watching the Young Mistress yet allowing her to get injured, she had to shift blame while avoiding full responsibility. If the Young Mistress’s injury was her own fault, damaging the Old Madam’s dignity would mean the end for her entire family!
After speaking, the matron kowtowed heavily until blood streamed from her nose:
“This old servant deserves death, but Young Mistress, you shouldn’t hold resentment toward the Old Madam either!”
The “Second Young Mistress” sitting high on the bed didn’t even glance at her, merely finishing the soup in her bowl.
After much weeping and wailing—creating a dusty, bloody spectacle—with no one responding, the matron gradually quieted down after roughly fifteen minutes of carrying on.
Slanting light streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the bright air. Suddenly, a sharp “clack” startled the old woman.
It was the Second Young Mistress setting down her emptied bowl.
Zhao Surui, currently inhabiting Shen Shiqing’s body, had consumed two bowls of chicken soup and felt some strength returning. He looked toward A Chi, who had been sitting at the desk all along.
A Chi hurriedly stood up:
“Young mistress, Liu Momo’s confession has been written. She admitted being sent by the Lady of Ning’an Countess to this estate…”
Reviewing the paper A Chi handed over, Zhao Surui inwardly praised: though that Shen Sanfei was useless at everything, the maids she raised were truly accomplished in both literary and martial arts. This small regular script displayed elegant brushwork and meticulous structure, impossible to achieve without rigorous practice.
He waved a hand: “Have them all press their thumbprints.”
The maids promptly followed her instruction. The bound women were restrained so thoroughly that their fingers could be pulled from behind to leave prints. Soon, Tu Nan returned with the confession covered in fingerprints.
Zhao Surui couldn’t be bothered to review it again: “Alright, dispose of them.”
Dis-dispose?
What disposal?
A Chi glanced at Tu Nan, seeing identical bewilderment on her face: “Yo-Young mistress, how should we dispose of them?”
Zhao Surui smiled. After all, these were young girls raised in inner chambers—pleasing to the eye but difficult to employ. If his usual attendants were here, the place would already be cleared.
Glancing at the wound on “Shen Shiqing’s” shoulder, Zhao Surui said lazily:
“She already declared herself deserving of ten thousand deaths. Do you still not know how to proceed?”
Liu Momo’s mouth was stuffed again, her eyes nearly bleeding with fury, muffled grunts escaping but no coherent speech.
Even Pei Feng, who had escorted them in, and the other maids were terrified by their mistress’s words.
A Chi dropped to her knees:
“Young mistress! We know you bear resentment, but… they ultimately acted under the Xie Family’s orders…”
Halfway through her plea, A Chi fell silent, having met her mistress’s gaze.
Those eyes, usually tinged with petulant melancholy, had never been so icy before.
Her mistress was clearly smiling, appearing to listen, yet those eyes warned that continuing would merely add another corpse.
A Chi was terrified.
Zhao Surui rose, supporting his injured shoulder. The pale green silk skirt trailed on the floor, earning a disgusted glare.
“If I take this confession to the Shuntian Prefecture, the Lady of Ning’an Countess would slaughter their entire families herself. Have you heard of flaying and stuffing with straw? That’s skinning humans to make drums displayed at gates, deterring future offenders. The Countess would gladly apply this to these women. Having Tu Nan pierce their hearts or slit their throats would be mercy compared to that.”
The hall fell deathly silent. Pale green skirts swayed as Zhao Surui approached Liu Momo. He bent slightly, staring down at the lowly servant who had caused him pain:
“When you meet King Yama, don’t forget to thank Mrs. Shen.”
“Mm!” Liu Momo thrashed violently, finally spitting out the gag. “Second Young Mistress! Spare me! The Lady plans to have the Second Young Master divorce you and marry Cousin Feng! I-I have a letter from the Lady to Mrs. Feng!”
The smile faded from Zhao Surui’s face. Straightening up, he waved a hand:
“Search her.”
A Chi and the others were all smiles, but Zhao Su Rui had lost interest. In his current identity, even killing someone would be inconvenient—all he could do was intimidate a few old women.
Such trivial matters had to be handled by himself, and no one was even there to applaud his efforts.
His legs shifted restlessly. The esteemed Zhaode Emperor took a deep breath. In his youth, he had enjoyed reading strange tales and anecdotes, and he had heard of bizarre stories about soul transference. If he had truly undergone soul transference, then had his original body died? Or… had it been taken over by that good-for-nothing Shen Shiqing?
Chapter 3: “Shen Sanfei”
After half a shichen, Zhao Su Rui had figured out that his current body was named “Shen Shiqing”—the daughter of the late Grand Scholar Shen Shao, married to Xie Feng’an, the second son of Ning’an Count Xie Wen Yuan. Not only was she living as a widow in all but name, but she was also on the verge of being divorced and had already been sent to this small estate to kneel in the ancestral hall. One more step, and it would be a noose around her neck, sending her to the mass graves, with a report claiming she died suddenly of illness.
Hearing the maid named A Chi say that she had written two blood letters in the ancestral hall and sent them away with the martial maid Tu Nan, Zhao Su Rui laughed.
A laugh of sheer exasperation.
She wasn’t completely foolish, but to only think of seeking help at this point was far too late.
Shen Shiqing’s father, Shen Shao, had been deeply trusted by his late father and elder brother. Before he was forty, he had been appointed Grand Scholar of the Wenhua Hall, tasked with assisting his Crown Prince elder brother, and had also overseen the Director of Studies in the Southern Metropolitan Region. His disciples and old acquaintances were spread throughout the court and beyond. If nothing else, just by calling out a few “uncles” and “elders,” these reputation-conscious scholars would line up to take care of Shen Shao’s orphaned daughter.
To have resources and not use them—useless!
The estate they were in was shabby and devoid of any defensive measures. Since Shen Shiqing had a martial maid who could subdue these people, she should have fought her way through the moment those matrons arrived.
To face an enemy without striking first—useless!
Looking further back, that widow surnamed Feng wasn’t such a difficult problem either. Last year, after his crushing defeat of the Dorben Iron Cavalry in Moxi, he had declared that he would launch another campaign against Moxi within three years. Although Xie Wen Yuan held the title of Count, he had no actual achievements to his name, relying entirely on ancestral privilege. During his father’s reign, he had nearly lost his title. His efforts to curry favor with Feng Youqi, a mere third-rank Guangwu Guard Commander, were merely an attempt to gain military merit and rely on Feng Youqi’s support. But the reason Xie Wen Yuan had fallen to this state was his failure in procuring military provisions, which led the late emperor—Zhao Su Rui’s father—to strip him of all his official positions. For someone like him to regain an appointment, the first hurdle to clear was the Ministry of Personnel. The Vice Minister of Personnel, Li Hanqing, was Shen Shao’s close friend and a man of integrity. If Shen Shiqing had sought his help, she could have easily choked Xie Wen Yuan’s ambitions.
Making Xie Wen Yuan secure an appointment was difficult, but leaving him empty-handed was all too easy.
With countless paths available, she had ended up harming herself—the most useless of the useless!
A Chi studied her mistress’s shifting expression and cautiously touched her own neck.
She had been genuinely frightened earlier, but seeing her mistress red-eyed and asking who she was, she felt nothing but heartache.
Their mistress was truly pitiable!
Noticing the maid’s daring gaze, Zhao Su Rui, who had been cursing inwardly, glared back fiercely. Unbeknownst to him, Shen Shiqing’s delicate frown and reproachful eyes only made her appear more pitiable.
He weighed the pearl hairpin in his hand, considering whether to prick himself to see if he could wake up, but the pain in his shoulder persisted.
He pinched his shoulder and winced sharply from the pain.
But he still hadn’t “woken up.”
Suddenly, the door swung open, and a handsome woman dressed in a light green bijia like A Chi walked in, her face stern and a sword in hand. When she saw “Shen Shiqing” awake, her expression instantly brightened with joy:
“Mistress! You’re finally awake!”
Zhao Su Rui raised an eyebrow. As soon as this maid entered, he caught the scent of blood.
“Did you kill someone?”
“Ah?” Tu Nan was startled by her mistress’s words and quickly shook her head. “Young mistress, please don’t jest with me. The physician said you’ve lost too much blood and might have injured your internal organs. I slaughtered a chicken and stewed it with astragalus and angelica for you.”
Hearing it was a chicken rather than a person, Zhao Su Rui’s interest waned considerably.
He looked over this newly arrived maid and noticed her tall stature and steady footsteps—clear signs of some martial skill. Though no match for elite imperial guards, she could easily handle three to five men. She was indeed a rare martial maid.
The maid named “A Chi,” who had been keeping watch here, remained calm despite her anxiety, speaking clearly with a straightforward gaze—evidently wholly devoted to her mistress.
Judging the master by the servants, although Shen Shiqing lacked physical strength and held no real power, she still possessed some skill in managing subordinates.
However, in Zhao Su Rui’s view, having ability but lacking decisiveness, only daring to retaliate when pushed to the brink, still made her worthless.
Just then, A Chi cautiously approached Tu Nan and whispered, “The young mistress may have injured her head.”
Tu Nan’s eyes widened.
A Chi pointed to her own head and waved her hand. “She doesn’t recognize anything.”
Tu Nan was first shocked, then furious. “I’ll drag that head matron here and ask if she did something to the young mistress!”
A Chi quickly grabbed her. “The most urgent matter is to fetch the physician to examine the young mistress!”
Their hushed tussle didn’t escape Zhao Su Rui’s notice. He tilted his head, watching with amusement.
Compared to these two young maids, his own followers—chickens, dogs, cats, and rats—lacked such genuine, wholehearted devotion to their master.
“You want to see those detained matrons?” Zhao Su Rui’s interest returned. “Bring them here for me to see.”
When several Xie Family matrons were brought in, they saw their usually delicate, beauty lantern-like Second Young Mistress sitting askew on the bed with legs apart, holding a bowl of hot chicken soup.
Having been confined for most of the day without food or drink, the matrons knelt on the ground looking dejected. One wearing a blue silk jacket with a flat gold bracelet on her wrist clearly held some status before her masters.
Spotting Shen Shiqing, this matron immediately cried out, “Second Young Mistress, it’s wonderful that you’re alright! This old servant truly didn’t know how you suddenly injured yourself. The Old Madam having you copy sutras was entirely out of care, hoping you’d cultivate your mind and character. Your actions have wounded the Old Madam’s heart!”
These words had been carefully rehearsed in the matron’s mind. Tasked with watching the Young Mistress yet allowing her to get injured, she had to shift blame while avoiding full responsibility. If the Young Mistress’s injury was her own fault, damaging the Old Madam’s dignity would mean the end for her entire family!
After speaking, the matron kowtowed heavily until blood streamed from her nose:
“This old servant deserves death, but Young Mistress, you shouldn’t hold resentment toward the Old Madam either!”
The “Second Young Mistress” sitting high on the bed didn’t even glance at her, merely finishing the soup in her bowl.
After much weeping and wailing—creating a dusty, bloody spectacle—with no one responding, the matron gradually quieted down after roughly fifteen minutes of carrying on.
Slanting light streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the bright air. Suddenly, a sharp “clack” startled the old woman.
It was the Second Young Mistress setting down her emptied bowl.
Zhao Surui, currently inhabiting Shen Shiqing’s body, had consumed two bowls of chicken soup and felt some strength returning. He looked toward A Chi, who had been sitting at the desk all along.
A Chi hurriedly stood up:
“Young mistress, Liu Momo’s confession has been written. She admitted being sent by the Lady of Ning’an Countess to this estate…”
Reviewing the paper A Chi handed over, Zhao Surui inwardly praised: though that Shen Sanfei was useless at everything, the maids she raised were truly accomplished in both literary and martial arts. This small regular script displayed elegant brushwork and meticulous structure, impossible to achieve without rigorous practice.
He waved a hand: “Have them all press their thumbprints.”
The maids promptly followed her instruction. The bound women were restrained so thoroughly that their fingers could be pulled from behind to leave prints. Soon, Tu Nan returned with the confession covered in fingerprints.
Zhao Surui couldn’t be bothered to review it again: “Alright, dispose of them.”
Dis-dispose?
What disposal?
A Chi glanced at Tu Nan, seeing identical bewilderment on her face: “Yo-Young mistress, how should we dispose of them?”
Zhao Surui smiled. After all, these were young girls raised in inner chambers—pleasing to the eye but difficult to employ. If his usual attendants were here, the place would already be cleared.
Glancing at the wound on “Shen Shiqing’s” shoulder, Zhao Surui said lazily:
“She already declared herself deserving of ten thousand deaths. Do you still not know how to proceed?”
Liu Momo’s mouth was stuffed again, her eyes nearly bleeding with fury, muffled grunts escaping but no coherent speech.
Even Pei Feng, who had escorted them in, and the other maids were terrified by their mistress’s words.
A Chi dropped to her knees:
“Young mistress! We know you bear resentment, but… they ultimately acted under the Xie Family’s orders…”
Halfway through her plea, A Chi fell silent, having met her mistress’s gaze.
Those eyes, usually tinged with petulant melancholy, had never been so icy before.
Her mistress was clearly smiling, appearing to listen, yet those eyes warned that continuing would merely add another corpse.
A Chi was terrified.
Zhao Surui rose, supporting his injured shoulder. The pale green silk skirt trailed on the floor, earning a disgusted glare.
“If I take this confession to the Shuntian Prefecture, the Lady of Ning’an Countess would slaughter their entire families herself. Have you heard of flaying and stuffing with straw? That’s skinning humans to make drums displayed at gates, deterring future offenders. The Countess would gladly apply this to these women. Having Tu Nan pierce their hearts or slit their throats would be mercy compared to that.”
The hall fell deathly silent. Pale green skirts swayed as Zhao Surui approached Liu Momo. He bent slightly, staring down at the lowly servant who had caused him pain:
“When you meet King Yama, don’t forget to thank Mrs. Shen.”
“Mm!” Liu Momo thrashed violently, finally spitting out the gag. “Second Young Mistress! Spare me! The Lady plans to have the Second Young Master divorce you and marry Cousin Feng! I-I have a letter from the Lady to Mrs. Feng!”
The smile faded from Zhao Surui’s face. Straightening up, he waved a hand:
“Search her.”
A Chi and the others were all smiles, but Zhao Su Rui had lost interest. In his current identity, even killing someone would be inconvenient—all he could do was intimidate a few old women.
Such trivial matters had to be handled by himself, and no one was even there to applaud his efforts.
His legs shifted restlessly. The esteemed Zhaode Emperor took a deep breath. In his youth, he had enjoyed reading strange tales and anecdotes, and he had heard of bizarre stories about soul transference. If he had truly undergone soul transference, then had his original body died? Or… had it been taken over by that good-for-nothing Shen Shiqing?