While half the manor held its breath, waiting to revel in Xie Yuechan’s humiliation, the lady in question slept soundly until the sun was high in the sky, unbothered by a single care.
In the original plot of the book, the “original” Xie Yuechan would have spent the night consumed by fury and grief. She would have ignored all attempts to stop her, stormed over to Gu Jing’an’s study to make a scene, and even lashed out with a whip, injuring his servants. That spectacle—witnessed by several guests who hadn’t yet departed—only served to confirm the rumors of her cruelty toward subordinates, deepening the Gu family’s disdain for her.
Her maids gathered to assist with her morning toilette. Jitao, her dowry maid, instinctively reached for the heavy, stark-white cosmetic powder to coat her mistress’s face.
Xie Yuechan raised a hand, stopping her. “No need for it to be so heavy. Keep it natural.”
The original host of this body had been a stubborn, competitive soul. Knowing she lacked in certain areas, she overcompensated in others. Because she felt her skin wasn’t as porcelain-fair as her younger concubine-born sister’s, she had commanded her maids to layer on the thickest, whitest powder every day. It was a jarring look; as soon as the weather turned warm and she began to sweat, her face would become a muddy mosaic of yellow and white—a sticky, sickly-sweet mess of perfume and perspiration.
It was no wonder that whenever she appeared before the other noble ladies, they looked at her with a mixture of suppressed revulsion and pity.
Xie Yuechan studied her reflection. The girl in the mirror wasn’t naturally dark-skinned; rather, her complexion was sallow and dull due to a weak constitution. Judging by the pale skin on the inside of her elbows, she was actually quite fair. If she simply nursed her body back to health, her radiance would return on its own.
Furthermore, her features were far from the “unbearable” sight people described. She suspected the original Xie Yuechan’s lack of confidence had led her to hide behind a mask of makeup, but a closer look revealed a truly exquisite foundation.
That younger sister… Xie Yuewan again.
Xie Yuechan narrowed her eyes. This sister seemed to loom excessively large in her predecessor’s memories. Time and again, Xie Yuechan had committed some social blunder or act of folly only after listening to Xie Yuewan’s “well-intentioned” advice.
What a coincidence, she thought dryly.
Unfortunately, the original Xie Yuechan had been quite empty-headed, believing whatever she was told. Trying to dig deeper into those memories for evidence was a fruitless endeavor for now, so she set the thought aside.
Picking up the rouge herself, Xie Yuechan lightly swept a dusting of apricot-pink across her cheeks to bring some life to her face. It was an instant improvement. She refined the “willow-leaf” brows Jitao had started, adding a defined arch and a touch of lip color. Suddenly, she looked spirited and alert.
Just as she finished, Gu Jing’an arrived.
“It is late,” he said, his voice dropping like a shard of ice. He didn’t even look at her, turning his back immediately to lead the way. “We must go to the main hall for the tea ceremony.”
Xie Yuechan hurried to catch up. As they walked, she couldn’t ignore the resentful glares from the servants. She could only offer herself a dry, mocking smile of inward sympathy.
Though the original Xie Yuechan was born of a Marquis’s household, she was practically illiterate. In the eyes of the public, she possessed none of the talent or grace of her “pure white lotus” sister, Xie Yuewan.
Worse were the rumors of her cruelty. A young maid had once claimed to have narrowly escaped her clutches, spinning a vivid, tearful tale of abuse that had stirred public outrage. While the Marquis’s influence had suppressed open gossip, Xie Yuechan’s reputation remained in the gutter.
Then there was her history of shamelessness. She had spent years chasing after the Prince of Ning to no avail. After a brief period of quiet following an “incident” last winter, she had caught sight of Gu Jing’an at a flower festival three months ago and instantly decided she was in love.
She had been relentless, using every trick in the book to corner him. Gu Jing’an had been so hounded that coming home from work every day felt like a game of cat-and-mouse.
Not long ago, at a banquet hosted by the Crown Princess (who happened to be Xie Yuechan’s cousin), a group of noble girls led by the Sixth Princess and Gu Jing’an’s eldest sister, Gu Qingli, decided to teach her a lesson. They wanted her away from Gu Jing’an for good.
During the ensuing argument, someone had shoved Xie Yuechan from behind. She tumbled into the lake. The girls had stared at one another in a panic; they were too afraid to jump in, yet terrified that if they did save her, the Crown Princess would blame them for the confrontation. In a moment of collective cowardice, they hoped she would simply disappear.
The group fled, leaving Xie Yuechan behind. She was a “land duck”—unable to swim—and after a few desperate splashes, the surface of the water went still.
The early spring air was biting, and the waters of Yulu Pond had only just begun to thaw. It was bone-chillingly cold when Gu Jing’an happened by and pulled her from the depths.
Unfortunately, it was a classic case of the farmer and the frozen viper.
Once rescued, instead of showing gratitude, Xie Yuechan had clung to his lapels with a death grip. She wailed that since he had held her, her virtue was forfeit; by the laws of propriety, he was now obligated to take responsibility for her.
The Crown Princess, who had long harbored a massive headache over her cousin’s antics, underwent a strange change of heart. Seeing an opportunity, she threw her full weight behind Xie Yuechan’s demand, insisting the Gu family provide an “explanation.”
Stunned by the sheer audacity of the Xie family, the Gus were momentarily speechless. To seal the deal, Xie Yuechan went home and attempted to bash her head against a pillar to “prove her innocence,” deploying every trick in the book—weeping, screaming, and threatening suicide—to corner them.
She fell gravely ill afterward, though she didn’t quite die.
It was at this precise moment that the modern Xie Yuechan had transmigrated into the body. With a life on the line and the Gu family trapped in a storm of public scrutiny, they had no choice but to save face. Matchmakers were dispatched in a frantic rush to arrange the marriage.
When the news of the Gu family’s formal proposal arrived, Xie Yuechan had been reclining on her daybed. Visualizing the frantic, indignant expressions of her future in-laws, she let out a sudden, amused “Pfft!” The sound brought a flicker of rosy health back to her pale, sickly face.
She knew exactly what the Gu family was planning. Rather than letting their reputation rot, they chose to marry her, making a grand show of sincerity to curry favor with the Grand Princess and the Crown Princess. Once she was behind their doors, they could simply refuse to consummate the marriage, wait until she failed to produce an heir, and then toss her out with a letter of divorce.
And so, the match was made.
No one was more displeased than the Old Matriarch of the Gu household. When choosing a daughter-in-law, the Gus valued character far above status or dowry.
Xie Yuechan sifted through the reports the Grand Princess had gathered for her before the wedding.
The eldest son’s wife, Lady Zhu, was a refined lady from a scholarly family in the south. Though her father held a modest rank, his reputation was impeccable, and Lady Zhu herself had been the most sought-after bride in Jiangnan. The Old Matriarch and the Grand Preceptor had vetted her personally, finding her perfect in every regard. From the moment she entered the manor, she had taken over the household management, keeping everything in flawless order.
The second son’s wife was the Commandery Princess Duanmin, a title bestowed by the Emperor himself. Raised in the palace under the Empress Dowager’s tutelage, she was of noble blood and the daughter of a hero who died fighting pirates.
Years ago, when the men of the Fang family were wiped out at sea, the Commandery Princess’s mother had followed her husband in death. To compensate the orphans, the Emperor had taken her in. He intended to find her a quiet, noble match, but Duanmin possessed a fiery spirit. She had insisted on rebuilding the Fang family legacy, taking to the battlefield herself to hunt pirates—a true heroine who put many men to shame.
Technically, the Gu family was beneath her station, but the heart wants what it wants, and she had fallen for the second Gu son. Now, after years of marriage, she was a devoted wife and mother, capable of both leading an army and managing a kitchen.
And then there was Xie Yuechan.
The single “rat dropping” that had spoiled a perfectly fine pot of soup.
Recalling all this, Xie Yuechan felt a flush of genuine shame. She truly didn’t have the face to meet this illustrious family of in-laws.
Walking ahead, Gu Jing’an noticed the lingering, resentful stares of the servants. He suddenly felt a twinge of guilt. Am I walking too fast? Is it too much to simply abandon my new bride behind me like this? He was, after all, a classic romantic lead; his upbringing was far too refined to let him ignore his own lapses in courtesy, even toward a woman like her.
He came to a halt and turned around. Xie Yuechan, lost in her own thoughts, had been absentmindedly trying to step exactly into his lingering footprints. She didn’t notice him stop and walked straight into his broad, solid chest.
The crisp, refreshing scent of bamboo hit her nose, snapping her back to reality.
Gu Jing’an’s voice rumbled from above, laced with genuine confusion. “What kind of walking style is that?” Stumbling, flighty, and utterly lacking in grace, he thought.
Xie Yuechan, seeing stars from the collision, looked up at him with a dazed, wide-eyed stare.