Autumn of the 23rd year of Dahong, Yong’an Marquis Manor.
As dusk enveloped the manor, lanterns were lit early within the residence.
Zhao Nuan stood beneath the western corridor, cradling the manor’s young master Zhou Ningyu, who had just turned six months old, humming lullabies to lull him to sleep.
“Warm Sister, the Madam requests your presence,” a young maid hurried over, her voice hushed. “The Madam doesn’t look well, so please be cautious.”
Zhao Nuan’s heart sank. Gently patting the peacefully sleeping child in her arms, she whispered, “I’ll go right away.”
Golden ginkgo leaves drifted down with the wind, carpeting the ground like scattered flecks of gold foil.
Zhao Nuan had crossed over to this fictional ancient world six years ago. The original host had just given birth when a flood struck.
Coincidentally, before her transmigration, she had been a volunteer who lost her life during flood relief efforts.
After arriving, drawing from the original host’s memories and having witnessed corpses strewn everywhere and desperate exchanges of children for survival, she sold herself into servitude at Wu’an Marquis Manor as a lowly maid, bringing her infant daughter along to secure a means of living.
As Zhao Nuan approached the Madam’s courtyard, she heard muffled coughing from afar.
Ever since the Marquis died in battle last year, the Madam’s health had declined day by day. Although the eldest son had inherited the title, the manor’s prestige was far from what it once was.
“Madam, you asked for me?” Zhao Nuan, still holding the child, gave a slight curtsy.
The Marquise, reclining on the couch, had a sallow complexion.
Upon seeing Zhao Nuan enter, she struggled to sit up. “Give the child to the wet nurse. Sit down, I have something to discuss with you.”
Zhao Nuan complied, handing the child to the wet nurse nearby, a sense of unease growing within her.
“You’ve been in the manor for about five years, haven’t you?” The Marquise gestured for the maids to withdraw before speaking slowly.
“Answering Madam, it has been five years and ten months,” Zhao Nuan replied softly.
“I recall you came to the manor seeking refuge with your newborn daughter after your hometown was struck by disaster,” the Marquise said, her gaze distant.
Zhao Nuan’s heart tightened. “Thanks to your kindness, Yan’er has been raised in the servants’ quarters and is now six years old.”
The Marquise nodded, fell silent for a moment, then suddenly let out a long sigh. “The manor… I fear great changes are coming.”
Zhao Nuan dared not respond, listening quietly.
“The court is unstable. Some have accused our manor of colluding with rebel forces,” the Marquise lowered her voice, trembling slightly. “The eldest son is already making arrangements, urging us to prepare early. The manor… I’m afraid it cannot be saved.”
Zhao Nuan’s hand trembled, nearly dropping the teacup.
“Don’t be afraid,” the Marquise said, retrieving a cloth bundle from under her pillow. “This contains your contract of servitude and some silver. Take it and leave the manor at dawn tomorrow.”
Zhao Nuan was stunned. “Madam, this is…”
“The manor is in trouble. We cannot drag you down with us,” the Marquise’s eyes welled with tears. “You are reliable and have taken good care of the young lady all these years. Even this little one, though not nursed by you, is fond of you. I… I have a favor to ask.”
“Please speak, Madam.”
“Take the young master with you,” the Marquise looked at her grandson in the wet nurse’s arms, her voice choked. “He is still so young. He cannot suffer with us. Take him away from the capital, hide in a remote place, and do not let anyone know he is of the manor’s bloodline.”
Zhao Nuan stared at the Marquise in shock, momentarily at a loss for words.
“I know this request is too heavy a burden,” the Marchioness tightly grasped her hand, “but there are few people in the manor I can trust. You have a kind heart and act with discretion. If you refuse… I truly don’t know who else to entrust this to.”
Zhao Nuan looked at the Marchioness’s haggard face, recalling how she had cared for her over the past five years, and felt a pang in her heart. “You honor me too much, my lady. But… why not let the young master stay with the wet nurse serving the elder madam…”
“The elder madam’s maternal family is also implicated and can barely protect themselves,” the Marchioness shook her head. “You entered the manor as a lowly maid and have remained inconspicuous all these years. Taking him away would be more discreet than entrusting him to other wet nurses.”
Zhao Nuan remained silent for a long while, never nodding in agreement.
The Marchioness leaned forward, grasping both her hands: “Then… consider me repaying kindness with demand.”
“My lady… I promise you, I will protect the young master with my life.”
The Marchioness sighed in relief, then removed a jade bracelet from her wrist: “This bracelet came from my maternal home—it bears no mark of the Marquis’ manor. Keep it to exchange for silver in emergencies. Remember, after leaving, change Yu’er’s name and never return to the capital.”
“My child… you will be his only mother now!”
With trembling hands, Zhao Nuan accepted it, finally asking her most pressing concern: “Might I ask, my lady, what about the young mistress…”
The Marchioness turned away, tears streaming down: “Chunlian’s child caught a chill days ago and passed away this morning.”
Zhao Nuan looked up sharply. Chunlian’s son had been frail since birth.
The Marchioness meant to use Chunlian’s child as a substitute for the young master, but there was no one to replace the young mistress…
That night, Zhao Nuan returned to her room, holding her plump daughter while tossing and turning sleeplessly.
When she first transmigrated here, she had still been trailing her placenta.
With her husband and in-laws gone, she had torn the umbilical cord with her bare hands and escaped her flood-submerged home.
Driven by sheer will to survive, she followed refugee crowds three hundred miles to the capital, selling herself into the Marquis’ manor with her last breath.
The day after entering the manor, she fell gravely ill with fever.
Ultimately, the Marchioness took pity—not only summoning a physician, but allowing her a full month to recover before working as a lowly maid alongside her daughter.
In her third month at the manor, the elder madam Lin Jingshu’s milk dried up after catching a chill.
The Marquis’ household hired over a dozen wet nurses, but the young mistress Zhou Ning’an refused them all, clinging to the elder madam’s clothes and crying.
Just as the little one was whimpering from hunger, Zhao Nuan happened to enter the courtyard while collecting night soil—the young mistress smelled her milk and wailed loudly.
Thus, she became the young mistress’s wet nurse, provided with good food and drink daily, and permitted to feed her own daughter with the young mistress’s leftover milk.
Because she frequently visited the main residence, the elder madam’s son born earlier that year also grew particularly close to her.
The Marquis’ family had always been kind, allowing her to live peacefully in the manor all these years without seeking to achieve great things using knowledge from before her transmigration.
Thinking of this, Zhao Nuan opened the cloth bundle from the Marchioness. Inside were her deed of indenture, three hundred taels in banknotes and some loose silver, along with a sealed letter.
She carefully stored the jade bracelet and silver, then rose to pack her belongings, waiting only for daybreak to depart.
Yet before dawn broke, the Marquis’ manor was startled awake by urgent pounding at the gates.
“Open up! By imperial decree, we search and seize the Marquis’ estate!”
Zhao Nuan jolted awake from her sleep, hearing chaos outside. Sensing something was terribly wrong, she quickly roused her daughter.
“Yan’er, get up quickly. Do you remember what Mother told you last night?”
“Mother, I remember.”
The mother and daughter dressed, shouldered their pre-packed bundles, and were about to fetch the young master when the door was abruptly pushed open.
“Hurry!” It was Chunmei, the personal maid of the First Mistress, her face deathly pale. “The front gate is already surrounded by soldiers! I’ll take you out through the back door!”
“What about the young master?” Zhao Nuan asked urgently.
Chunmei stepped aside, revealing the First Mistress Lin Jingshu behind her, dressed only in her undergarments.
Lin Jingshu held her daughter Zhou Ning’an with one hand and her son Zhou Ningyu in the other, forcing a strained smile. “A’Nuan! I always wondered why this child wasn’t attached to me or his wet nurse. It seems he was destined to be with you.”
After kissing her son’s forehead, she handed him to Zhao Nuan along with a handkerchief. “The family’s assets are being confiscated, so I dare not give you too much silver. These two hundred taels in banknotes inside the handkerchief weren’t recorded in the household accounts. Keep them safe.”
Zhao Nuan took the child, who had been awakened by the commotion and was about to cry.
She immediately began gently rocking him, whispering, “Good boy, don’t cry. Mother is here.”
Hearing the familiar voice, the young master indeed quieted down, simply staring at her with his big, dark eyes.
Lin Jingshu’s heart felt as if pierced by a knife when she heard those words.
“A’Nuan… take your daughter and… son, and don’t look back!”
As the two women bid farewell, Zhao Nuan’s daughter Zhao Yan was exchanging hair ornaments with the young mistress Zhou Ning’an.
Little Zhou Ning’an solemnly held Zhao Yan’s hands. “Yan’er, thank you.”
Just as they were all in tears, they saw flames shooting up from the main courtyard amid loud shouts and commotion.
Lin Jingshu pushed her toward the back door. “Never come back!”