Su Qingwan had been reborn and returned to this world a little earlier than Su Fuying.
When Su Fuying regained her senses, Su Qingwan had already begged their parents to alter the betrothal agreement and switch their marriage partners.
Hearing this, Su Fuying said nothing. She merely stood quietly, watching the undisguised joy glowing on Su Qingwan’s face.
Su Qingwan truly believed a life of ease and splendor was within her grasp.
Recalling the humiliations of her past life, Su Fuying found herself looking forward to seeing what lay in store for Su Qingwan after she married into that household.
At noon, having missed the meal time while resting, Su Fuying went downstairs to find something to eat. As she passed Su Qingwan’s room, she heard her chattering excitedly to her closest friend about the wealthy, dissolute heir she was soon to marry.
“Qin Yiheng is not nearly as disreputable as the rumors claim. He only appears to be a pleasure-seeker on the surface—truly, he is devoted and faithful at heart.”
Her friend remained skeptical, finding it nearly impossible to reconcile the Qin Yiheng known for lingering day and night in houses of entertainment with the man Su Qingwan described.
A faint, cool smile touched the corners of Su Fuying’s lips. She could only hope Su Qingwan’s reckoning would come soon.
In her past life, Su Fuying had reached an understanding with Qin Yiheng: she would not interfere in his private affairs, and would even cover up his transgressions. Only then did the inhuman torment she endured finally abate. Later still, she gathered enough evidence against him to stand her ground and demand the respect she was owed.
To the outside world, it appeared Qin Yiheng had repented his wild ways and settled down once married. In truth, that image had been carefully crafted and maintained by Su Fuying—nothing more than an arrangement of mutual convenience.
Su Qingwan’s bright, hopeful voice drifted on, but Su Fuying had no desire to listen further. She found herself anticipating the look on Su Qingwan’s face following their wedding night. The scandalous intimacies between men—surely Su Qingwan would find those sights thrilling and intoxicating.
Su Fuying turned her gaze away from the half-closed door. Her eyes darkened, deep with quiet resolve. Su Qingwan… every debt owed from our past life… we shall settle them one by one, slowly.
On the day of the formal betrothal discussions, Su Qingwan had dressed herself elaborately and waited early in the morning, radiant and eager.
Su Fuying, by contrast, had simply freshened up, dressed in a modest dress that fell to her knees, and came downstairs with her hair loosely half-draped over her shoulders.
Reaching the landing, Su Fuying’s gaze fell at once upon Song Bo, seated upright in his crisp military uniform. This was the first time she had truly looked at him with full attention.
His complexion was not pale, weathered as it was by days and nights in the military camps, yet his features were strikingly handsome and finely chiseled. Were he to tend to his appearance as carefully as Qin Yiheng did, he would undoubtedly be the most sought-after man in the city.
Song Bo seemed to sense her gaze. He lifted his head, and their eyes met.
Something felt different—changed, somehow. Su Fuying lowered her gaze, withdrew her attention, and descended the stairs slowly.
Su Hanhai, her father, caught sight of his younger daughter and found her more lovely than ever before. His smile broadened.
“Fuying, come and greet Uncle Song, Auntie Song, and the Young Marshal.”
Su Fuying stepped forward to stand before Uncle and Auntie Song—sensible, dignified people, far more reasonable than Qin Yiheng’s parents had ever been.
“Uncle Song, Auntie Song.” Her gaze shifted to Song Bo, who was watching her intently. She offered a calm, slight smile and inclined her head. “Young Marshal.”
She had barely taken her seat when she felt Su Qingwan’s gaze upon her—sharp, unfriendly, and brimming with ill will. It seemed her sister looked forward keenly to whatever misfortune she expected would befall Su Fuying.
Su Fuying met her gaze and returned a smile so quiet and knowing that Su Qingwan shuddered and quickly looked away, too unsettled to meet her eyes again.
Su Fuying narrowed her eyes faintly. Was Su Qingwan stricken with guilt? Did she fear the consequences of the wrongs she had committed in their past life?
In that life, after Song Bo fell in battle, the Song family’s standing in the city collapsed utterly. Su Qingwan was reduced to wandering the streets and enduring public humiliation. One day, Qin Yiheng happened to be in a generous mood. He gave Su Fuying a large sum of money and sent her out with servants to purchase fine garments—for himself, and for his male companion. On their way back, they found Su Qingwan being set upon and abused in the street.
Su Fuying stepped in to save her sister—and in doing so, sealed her own fate. She would remember, for all eternity, the sensation of being seized by the head and forced underwater until she drowned—at Su Qingwan’s hands.
The silent, wordless exchange charged with unspoken history did not escape Song Bo’s notice.
The discussion proceeded smoothly thereafter. The Song parents appeared thoroughly pleased—whether they were satisfied with Su Fuying herself, or merely with her family’s standing, she could not be certain. Likely, it was a measure of both. She recalled that in her past life, they had never extended such warmth toward Su Qingwan.
Agreements were reached without delay, and even the date of the engagement was all but settled. Su Fuying walked out to see the guests off alongside her father. Auntie Song held her hand, speaking warmly and with evident delight.
“Fuying is such a lovely, graceful girl.”
“Now we shall truly be family—how I look forward to it!” She patted Su Fuying’s hand affectionately. “In a few days, when Bo’er is granted leave, I shall send him to call for you. The two of you may stroll and enjoy the sights of East Market Street together.”
Su Fuying turned to look at Song Bo, only to hear Su Qingwan speak from nearby, her tone edged with jealousy and poorly concealed irritation.
“I hear there is to be a grand military review in a few days’ time. Will you be free then, Cousin Song Bo?”
Auntie Song glanced toward Su Qingwan, her expression briefly unreadable before smoothing back into composure.
Song Bo spoke at last. His voice was calm, yet carried a chill sharp as shards of ice.
“I had not realized Cousin Su takes such an interest in military affairs. The review was only proposed recently—and yet you speak of it as though it were already settled fact.”
Su Qingwan’s smile froze upon her face. Of course—she knew of such things because she had lived through them before. But knowing what she ought not to know, at this moment in time, was dangerous.
Su Qingwan recovered quickly, smoothing her curled hair with a practiced gesture. “I… I heard it mentioned in passing by Ye Tong a few days ago. I had assumed the arrangements were already confirmed.”
Ye Tong was Su Qingwan’s dearest friend; his father was a colleague of Song Bo’s, though the two young men had never been on good terms. In her past life, once married, Su Qingwan had severed ties with Ye Tong entirely, all in an effort to please Song Bo and fit into his world.
Recollections of that life swirled through Su Fuying’s mind. Song Bo, decorated with honors and revered as the Young Marshal, was young for his rank—and there were many who begrudged him. It occurred to her now that his death on the battlefield in her past life may not have been mere chance.
A gentle pat upon her hand roused Su Fuying from her thoughts. Auntie Song was regarding her with a warm, reassuring smile.
“Never fear—he shall certainly call upon you.”
Seeing Auntie Song speak with such certainty, Su Fuying offered no objection. She simply smiled in agreement.
In truth, she held no great hope for happiness in this marriage. She had accepted it only because there was no escape. Should she refuse this match, Su Hanhai would simply arrange another. He would never keep a daughter who brought no value to his household. And all things considered, the Song family was as good a match as any.
Song Bo spent his days at the barracks and rarely came home. Auntie Song likewise did not interfere in the affairs of her son and daughter-in-law—at least, in her past life, she had never meddled in Su Qingwan’s marriage. It suited Su Fuying well enough: she would enjoy peace and quiet, safeguard her own safety, and endure whatever came.
No matter what this life held in store, it could never be worse than the one she had lost.
Song Bo watched his intended bride, lost in quiet thought, and felt a strange, unfamiliar stirring within him. Only days before, he had regarded this marriage with utter indifference. He had believed his betrothed would be Su Qingwan—and to him, that union would have been nothing more than a formality, a political tool to secure his position and silence his rivals.
Now, standing before this woman who had taken her sister’s place, he found himself holding his breath—and looking forward to what lay ahead.