Bitong was Ling Heng’s personal maid—and also his bed servant.
The Marquis’s estate was filled with beautiful women. Bitong’s looks were only average among them, but she had accompanied Ling Heng since childhood and handled many of his private matters. Within the household, she was considered a servant of status.
Yet as she grew older, Ling Heng’s favor waned.
By chance, Jiang Zhuo had once discovered Bitong having a secret affair with a household guard named Zhang Meng.
Back then, Jiang Zhuo and Lin Rou’er often clashed, and both already resented Bitong’s control over the distribution of household supplies. When Bitong herself handed them such a scandalous weakness, Jiang Zhuo simply went to Ling Heng and exposed it.
Ling Heng was furious. He had the adulterous pair beaten half to death. Bitong was then sold to a trafficker, while Zhang Meng—crippled—was thrown out of the estate.
No one expected Zhang Meng, gravely injured, would spend his entire family fortune to buy Bitong back.
Even fewer imagined that after Zhang Meng’s death, the despairing Bitong would blame Jiang Zhuo for her misery.
Jiang Zhuo had loved jewelry since young. Relying on Ling Heng’s indulgence, she left the estate every fifteenth day of the month to visit Treasure Pavilion and choose the newest accessories. Familiar with her routine, Bitong hid a dagger in her sleeve, squeezed through a crowd, and struck at Jiang Zhuo.
Panicked, Jiang Zhuo narrowly escaped death—but a deep slash across her face ruined her forever.
This time, though, the missing musician was a trivial matter. Why would someone like Bitong, Ling Heng’s personal maid, be sent to handle it?
Remembering Lin Rou’er’s “warning” before she left, Jiang Zhuo suddenly realized—it was a hint.
Her guard up, Jiang Zhuo quietly pulled the hairpin from her bun, gripped it tightly, and scanned her surroundings, planning her escape.
“Music Officer, we’ve arrived. Madam Li, the flutist, was frightened earlier and is waiting inside for you.” Just as Jiang Zhuo was about to turn and run, Bitong called out sweetly, “And where might Music Officer be going?”
Even catching her retreat, Bitong’s smile remained gentle—yet under the cold moonlight, it looked like the fixed grin of a malevolent spirit. Jiang Zhuo’s spine chilled.
“The banquet is already underway; I shouldn’t delay. Sister Bitong, may I trouble you to bring Madam Li out? That would be much—”
Bitong ignored her words entirely. A pair of large hands suddenly appeared from behind, shoving Jiang Zhuo forward.
Caught completely unprepared, Jiang Zhuo toppled through the half-open door and crashed into the dark room.
Immediately, a sickeningly sweet scent filled her lungs.
Jiang Zhuo clamped a hand over her nose and mouth, spinning back toward the door—only to find it firmly locked. No amount of pushing or pounding budged it.
Damn it!
The room was pitch-black. No trace of human presence. Certainly no Madam Li.
Calm down. You must calm down.
Forcing herself to steady her breathing, Jiang Zhuo closed her eyes to adjust to the darkness. When she opened them again, her vision cleared slightly.
The room was sparsely furnished—just a bed, a couch, a table, and two stools. The window behind her was nailed shut with wooden slats. A sealed chamber.
The drug began taking effect, and heat rolled through her body.
She tried to smash the window, but her knees weakened—she nearly collapsed.
“Is it done?”
“She’s inside, Marquis. Please wait a little longer. Once the drug takes full effect, she won’t injure you.”
Voices drifted through the door.
Ling Heng. Bitong.
Familiar voices that triggered old terror.
I cannot end up like last time!
Jiang Zhuo bit down hard and stabbed her palm with the hairpin. Blood spilled hotly across her hand. The pain restored a sliver of clarity.
She seized a wooden stool and hurled it at the window with all her strength.
Wood splintered. Cool night air and moonlight flowed inside, dispersing the thick drugged scent.
Thank heaven Ling Heng preferred luxury—everything in his estate was purple sandalwood, heavy and solid. Had it been ordinary wood, the stool would have shattered before the window.
Her body still burned, but her mind sharpened. She climbed toward the window—only to find a pond outside.
Moonlight rippled across the water.
She suddenly remembered—
She didn’t know how to swim.
“What’s with the noise?”
“Music Officer Jiang is still a maiden. It’s normal she’s frightened.”
“Be careful. Nothing must go wrong.”
“Y-yes… I’ll check immediately.”
Footsteps approached.
Ling Heng and Bitong were about to enter.
Jiang Zhuo clenched her teeth, shut her eyes—and jumped.
It was late May, early June—summer, yet the night water was icy cold.
The flame in her veins was instantly extinguished by the shock of freezing water.
Her heavy ceremonial uniform soaked through, dragging her down like iron chains.
Water covered her neck, filled her ears, seeped into her nose.
Everything fell silent.
No scheming. No mockery. No danger.
How peaceful.
Her exhausted body longed to surrender to sleep.
Somewhere in the haze, voices called faintly.
No… no!
Is my second life ending this absurdly?
“Help—! Someone—!”
Trying to call for help only made her choke, coughing violently as water rushed into her mouth.
No. She had finally changed her fate— how could she die like this?
She still hadn’t avenged those who wronged her.
Hadn’t reunited with her father.
Hadn’t found the general who built her a grave in the snow.
No. Not yet!
In despair, a final burst of determination surged within her. She stretched her legs—
And stood up.
Jiang Zhuo: “…”
The pond water barely reached her chest.
She stared blankly.
Of course. It was part of a landscaped garden. How deep could it be?
Wiping the water from her face, utterly speechless, she turned—
And saw Lin Rou’er and her attendants standing stiffly on the bank.
Lin Rou’er: “…”
Jiang Zhuo: “…”
A moment ago, she didn’t want to die.
Right now, she kind of did.
She wanted to burrow into the earth.
Eyes full of tears, Jiang Zhuo looked up at the bright moon, feeling she could claw out an entire marquis’s estate with her toes from sheer embarrassment.