In contrast to the jubilant atmosphere in the Marquis of Changle’s household, right next door in the Jian’an Marquis’s estate, Cheng Qingyao was clutching her sprained waist, her beautiful face frozen like frost. She had spent so long meticulously preparing to dazzle everyone at the Lotus Appreciation Poetry Gathering, only to have her efforts come to naught.
The thought of making such a fool of herself in front of Prince Pingnan nearly made her cough up blood in rage.
“Qiulan, how is Qiuxia? Has her family arrived?” After finally catching her breath, Cheng Qingyao asked about Qiuxia, the maid who had been disfigured.
Qiulan’s eyes flickered. Lowering her head, she replied, “Miss, Qiuxia’s family took the money and left with her.” As she spoke, a chill of sorrow rose in her heart.
Qiuxia had been the lady’s confidante—beautiful and graceful. The lady had once promised to find her a good marriage. But since Qiuxia was disfigured, the lady visited her only once before summoning her family to take her away. She even tore up Qiuxia’s deed of sale, calling it “granting her freedom.”
In reality, everyone knew Qiuxia’s family was predatory and only wanted to squeeze money out of her. By tearing up the deed and releasing her, the lady had effectively cut off Qiuxia’s last retreat. Recalling the look of despair and resentment in Qiuxia’s eyes before she left, Qiulan felt a shiver of fear.
Cheng Qingyao nodded slightly, a flicker of feigned regret in her eyes. “For the sake of those ten acres of fertile land I gave them, I hope her family treats her well. If not, she still has me as her mistress to back her up; I won’t let her suffer.”
Hearing this, Qiulan felt slightly better. “Miss is truly righteous!”
Qiulan’s shifting expressions did not escape Cheng Qingyao’s notice; she mentally noted to be wary of her. Had Qiuxia not been unlucky enough to be disfigured, she wouldn’t have relied on Qiulan at all.
However… the most urgent matter was to find a spiritual master. Two inexplicable falls had planted a seed of terror in Cheng Qingyao’s heart. As a person who had experienced rebirth, she held a deep, reverent fear of ghosts and gods.
Cheng Ruyi had no idea that her simple, crude revenge had triggered a full-blown existential crisis in her cousin.
The next day, word of the poetry gathering spread—specifically Cheng Ruyi’s “masterpiece.” People were dying of laughter. Depending on one’s perspective, the poem was… well, a bit “dirty.” Those with less-than-pure minds found it quite suggestive.
Even Cheng Ruyi’s former fiancé nearly spat out his tea upon hearing it. The poem eventually reached the ears of the Emperor, making him roar with laughter.
When the Marquis of Changle learned of his daughter’s poem, he didn’t feel ashamed at all. Instead, he bragged about it with great pride. The public was utterly speechless.
When he returned home and discussed it with Rong Susu, she felt like she’d been struck by a bolt from the blue. However, they loved their daughter dearly; even if she was “bad,” they would find a way to praise her like a blooming flower. When they eventually learned from Ruyi herself that she hadn’t even written the poem but had just repeated it, both parents were left at a loss for words.
Cheng Ruyi, however, was having a grand time. Once, she had been a pure child, but the “giant dye-vat” of the post-apocalyptic world had stained her black—especially under the tutelage of her older sisters in that life. At fifteen, she was incredibly street-smart and knew a lot, even if she was remarkably dense regarding her own romantic feelings.
The truth eventually leaked: the poem “famed throughout the capital” wasn’t hers. She had just overheard it somewhere. The city went wild with laughter again. As expected, she’s uneducated and can’t even tell a good poem from a bad one.
Cheng Ruyi didn’t care. People can say what they want; it’s not like it would cost her a pound of flesh. She was busy. Last night, she had told her parents and Cousin Rong Mo about her “dream.” Now, she was leading her parents and her little brother like a pack of busy hamsters, moving grain into the manor’s cellars bit by bit.
All the grain harvested from their estates was stockpiled. She even instructed the farm managers to tell the tenant farmers not to sell their grain this year and to hoard more if they had spare cash.
Cheng Yu looked at the cellars filled with grain, jams, and salted vegetables, his eyes crinkling with satisfaction. “Wait… we seem to be low on meat.” He looked at his sister expectantly. “Sister, should we go hunt more and make jerky?”
Cheng Ruyi, having survived an apocalypse, never wanted to be hungry again. She nodded vigorously. “Xiao Yu’er is right! We should hunt. We can raise the small animals and turn the big ones into jerky or salted meat.”
They were a duo of action. Soon, they were heading toward the mountains on the outskirts of the capital with a team of guards.
As a “celebrity,” every time Cheng Ruyi went out, she drew a crowd. After the poetry gathering, her fame had reached new heights. News of her hunting trip spread quickly. Several idle playboys—recalling that she had once taken down a giant boar and a black bear—scurried after her with their own guards, eager to watch her display her monstrous strength. Follow the newest chapters on novelping(.)com.
“Sister, are all those people behind us coming to hunt too?” Cheng Yu pouted, looking back at the long line of carriages and horses.
Cheng Ruyi had noticed them long ago. “Ignore them. They’re just here for the show.”
“Oh!” Cheng Yu turned back, excitement gleaming in his eyes. He had been practicing his archery at home; this time, he was determined to bag some pheasants and hares.
While the siblings were hunting, Rong Mo was also busy preparing for the coming disaster. As the sole survivor of the massacred Rong clan of Qinghe County, he came from a family of scholars with deep pockets. Though their assets had been carved up by others after the massacre—leaving his aunt Rong Susu to watch helplessly—Rong Mo was not as helpless as he appeared.
People saw a paralyzed man living under someone else’s roof. They didn’t know he held the ancestral collections of the Rong clan and controlled many hidden industries. A clan that had survived for hundreds of years always had a backup plan.
Rong Mo possessed both the manpower and the financial resources. Trusting his mysterious cousin, he joined the ranks of the “hoarders.” Of course, his primary goal remained finding the mastermind behind his family’s slaughter, though the trail had been cold for eight years.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Cheng Qingyao, Prince Pingnan—the “Anchor of the Great Zhou”—had investigated her thoroughly. He discovered she really was secretly hoarding grain across the country. Between that and her other suspicious behaviors, it seemed Cheng Ruyi’s “prophetic dream” was more accurate than he’d thought.
Prince Pingnan didn’t wait for the solar eclipse. He began stockpiling grain and medicinal herbs immediately. He also informed the Emperor of the potential two-year catastrophe. The Emperor, cautious as ever, decided to wait one month to see if the eclipse actually happened.
Because of Cheng Ruyi—a little butterfly who only wanted to sabotage her cousin—the “plot” of the book had shifted once again.
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