Darkness and silence.
Without the weight of limbs, Pei Nai felt herself floating in midair, like a feather drifting alone.
She could not move any part of her body, nor did she possess awareness. At this moment, she had no physical form, and everything around her was an undivided chaos. She could not tell how much time had passed, nor measure its speed. Only vaguely did she feel that it had been a very, very long time…
Suddenly, a force appeared, pulling and dragging her outward. Then the force gradually stopped, and in the next instant, her body shed its long-held lightness and became incomparably heavy.
Wait…?
A wave of dizziness struck, the pain like something about to explode in her head.
Was it her illusion, or real sensation? Before she lost consciousness again, a hoarse and aged voice sounded by her ear, breaking the long silence:
“The time has come. It is time to return.”
…
The moment she opened her eyes, a flood of white light stabbed into them, forcing her to shut them again.
Someone nearby cried out in surprise. Pei Nai slowly narrowed her eyes open to a slit.
The blurred scene gradually became clear. What entered her sight was the carved canopy of an embroidered bed. Gauze curtains hung on all sides, crimson-purple, serene and elegant, highlighting the delicate beauty of a young lady—yet it was not a color she liked.
Pei Nai’s heart sank.
Turning her head, she saw a dignified-looking woman sitting close by on a wooden chair beside the bed.
The woman appeared to be in her middle years, dressed in refined attire, her hair adorned with elegant ornaments and jade hairpins that glimmered with wealth and status.
She gazed at Pei Nai with a hint of joy and said to a maid beside her, “Mingzhi is finally awake. Go inform her father at once.”
The maid hurried out, though two others remained at a distance, lowering their heads while secretly glancing over.
Pei Nai felt puzzled and tried to prop herself up with her arms. The woman supported her, then took a cup from a servant and handed it over.
“Drink some water. You must be parched.”
Pei Nai looked at her. Seeing only gentleness in the woman’s expression, she accepted the porcelain cup and drank it in one go. As she studied the woman’s features, they seemed strangely familiar, yet she could not place why.
“Where is this? …And who are you?” she asked, returning the cup.
The woman looked confused. “This is the Ju Residence. I am your aunt, your mother’s elder sister. Your mother, she…”
She paused, then asked those beside her, “Where is Mingzhi’s mother? Why isn’t she here?”
A servant bowed and carefully reminded her, “Madam, you’ve forgotten again. Miss Mingzhi’s mother passed away last year. That is why her father brought her to the capital to stay at the Ju Residence.”
Madam Ju’s expression changed. She took out a handkerchief and wiped her tears, murmuring, “How could this be?”
Pei Nai, unsure what to do, could only feign sadness and gently pat her shoulder.
Yet what confused her most was not the woman’s reaction, but why she herself was here.
When she had just drunk the water, she noticed her hands. She had trained in martial arts for years, and her hands used to bear calluses. But now they were fair and delicate—completely different.
Before waking, she had heard that aged voice say, “The time has come. It is time to return.”
What exactly was going on?
Madam Ju composed herself and said with reddened eyes, “Mingzhi, don’t mind me. My memory has been poor these past few years.”
Pei Nai gave an awkward smile, inwardly wondering—was it really just “a little poor”?
“Mingzhi, are you hungry? Have some pastries first.” Madam Ju spoke warmly, seemingly having forgotten Pei Nai’s earlier question about her identity.
Pei Nai waved her hand, about to politely refuse, when she suddenly felt something hard beneath her tongue, causing discomfort.
Turning her head to avoid others’ gaze, she reached inside—and her mind buzzed.
She realized that the object under her tongue was a “Hun Tree Fragment.”
She knew its name because when she was young, her father, Pei Hao, had once placed a piece—freshly taken from boiling water and shaped like a shard of wood—under her tongue.
The moment it touched her tongue, it sprouted roots that burrowed deep into her flesh, merging with it.
It had not caused pain, but she could feel the roots writhing within her tongue, an extremely strange sensation. When she asked her father, he told her it was a “Hun Tree Fragment,” beneficial for eyesight and longevity, harmless to the body.
Though she suspected he was merely exaggerating like with wolfberries, she left it alone since it was from him. Over time, it fused almost completely with her tongue. After her father’s death, only she and Gu Jinheng knew of it.
But now, after a long slumber, she had awakened in another person’s body—and even the “Hun Tree Fragment” had reappeared, protruding once more as if newly embedded.
“What’s wrong, Mingzhi?” Madam Ju asked with concern.
A maid stepped forward and explained, “Miss Mingzhi’s tongue is probably uncomfortable. Yesterday, a master placed a medicinal herb under her tongue, saying it would save her life.”
“A master?…” Madam Ju thought for a moment. “Ah yes, there was an old monk yesterday.”
“The master took the herb from boiling water and placed it under Miss’s tongue. She immediately began breathing again,” the maid added reverently.
Madam Ju nodded as her memory returned. “Yes, Mingzhi had already stopped breathing for hours, yet he revived her. That monk must be a divine being reborn—we must thank him properly.”
“You already did, Madam,” the maid replied helplessly.
“I did?” Madam Ju tried to recall.
Pei Nai suddenly remembered that her father once mentioned a monk friend from Yiliang. She felt certain there was a connection and hurriedly asked, “Where is that monk now?”
The maid answered, “He stayed one night and left this morning.”
“Which direction?”
“North. He said he was returning to Yiliang, likely departing from the north gate.”
Pei Nai immediately tried to get out of bed. Though she had never met the monk, she felt a strong urge—she had to ask him what was happening.
She had clearly been on her way to Guancheng, preparing to face the Wu tribe. Why had she awakened here?
No—this wasn’t even her body.
Still weak, she tried to get up, but lost her balance and nearly fell. Fortunately, Madam Ju caught her just in time and helped her back onto the bed.
Pei Nai felt like crying. For the first time in her life, she experienced what it meant to be physically fragile.
Footsteps sounded outside as someone pushed the door open.
“What timing—Mingzhi just woke up and you’re here,” Madam Ju said.
The maid reminded her, “Madam, you were the one who sent for Magistrate Tang.”
A middle-aged man in official robes approached, his eyes moist. “Mingzhi, it’s good that you’ve awakened. Father… was very worried.”
Pei Nai hesitated, then made a decision. “After waking from my illness, I’ve forgotten everything. Thank you for your concern, Father and Aunt. But I wish to go find that master and personally thank him.”
Everyone exchanged glances in silence.
Madam Ju nodded. “I’ll have a carriage prepared with guards. Don’t rush.”
But how could Pei Nai not be anxious?
“No need for trouble. Just give me a good horse.”
Madam Ju hesitated. “Mingzhi… have you forgotten that you don’t know how to ride?”
Pei Nai forced a calm expression. “You’re right… I forgot. Then please prepare a carriage.”
Madam Ju smiled gently. “Change your clothes first. We’ll wait outside.”
After everyone left, a maid brought her clothes—a long trailing dress, nearly pure white.
Pei Nai frowned. Everything she had seen since waking was in colors she disliked—too refined and delicate, suited for a noble lady, but not for her.
“Do you have something less plain?” she asked.
“Miss, today marks the tenth anniversary of Lady Yingwu’s death. By imperial decree, it is observed as a national mourning day. You must wear plain clothes,” the maid replied innocently.
Pei Nai clicked her tongue inwardly.
Yingwu Lady… the title conjured an image of a strong, imposing woman. What emperor had given such a title? Why not call her something even more grand?
Wait—the emperor.
“What year is it now?” she asked.
“Chongde, ninth year, seventh month,” the maid answered.
“Chongde…?” Pei Nai had never heard of this era name. “And the emperor’s name?”
The maid immediately knelt in panic. “Miss, I dare not speak His Majesty’s name!”
“Get up, get up,” Pei Nai said quickly. “Then just nod or shake your head.”
She tested, “The second son of the late emperor, Xiao Bin?”
The maid shook her head.
“Then the third son, Xiao Yi?”
The maid nodded.
Pei Nai let out a breath. “Do you know Gu Jinheng?”
The maid nearly knelt again in fear. “Miss, you must not speak of Lord Duanding lightly! It’s said his inner strength is so great he can hear sounds five li away—if he hears…”
“Duanding… Lord?” He had risen in rank? Pei Nai smiled faintly. “That’s exaggerated.”
The maid dared not respond further.
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know… but his residence is only two streets away from the Ju Residence.”
Pei Nai suddenly froze. “You said… Chongde ninth year?”
“Yes.”
Her heart jolted.
If Xiao Yi had ascended the throne and changed the era name…
Then this was—
Ten years later?!
She stood stunned.
The maid waved a hand before her eyes. “Miss?”
Pei Nai finally came back to herself, forcing down the turmoil in her chest. “Then… what major events happened ten years ago?”
“I don’t know much…” the maid said awkwardly.
“Then what about Lord Duanding’s former wife, Pei Nai? What happened to her?”
The maid blinked. “Miss, you mean Lady Pei—the last heir of the Pei family, former commander of the Pei Army, the unparalleled heroine of Tianyao?”
Pei Nai was speechless as the titles poured out.
“…Yes.”
The maid said sincerely, “She is the Yingwu Lady I mentioned. Today is her memorial day. Ten years ago, she died on the battlefield, sacrificing herself for the nation. After her death, she was posthumously granted the title Yingwu Lady—though the full title is: Supreme Peerless Divine Martial Grand Lady.”
It felt as though lightning struck Pei Nai.
She was completely stunned.