“The opera troupe later disbanded, and she was sold into the Duke’s mansion by the Ya Po. Because she was somewhat attractive, literate, and around the same age as the madam, she was assigned to serve her. She eventually became the madam’s personal maid because she knew how to please her,” Hua Ping continued. “I also found out that Wang Daifu is from Jiangnan as well—he and Liu Yiniang are from the same hometown.”
“What else?”
“And… Miss, the master and Liu Yiniang will return from Huguo Temple tomorrow.”
“Huguo Temple? What were they doing there?”
No wonder she hadn’t seen her biased, cheap father since she transmigrated—it turned out Liu Yiniang had used a diversion tactic.
“I heard Liu Yiniang suggested praying for the late madam’s blessings and getting a protective talisman for you. When the master heard it was for the madam, he accompanied her and stayed at the temple for almost ten days.”
Ten days.
Lin Shu sneered inwardly.
What a wonderful prayer.
Liu Yiniang had played this move brilliantly.
She had sent away the only person who could suppress the turmoil in the inner household—the Prime Minister—creating a perfect environment for Lin Wan’er to carry out her scheme.
Even if things escalated, with the Prime Minister absent, the Marquis’s household couldn’t directly intervene in the affairs of the Prime Minister’s residence.
By the time the Prime Minister returned, she would either be dead or unable to clear herself from the accusation of harming Old Madam Xiao.
By then, Liu Yiniang would appear as the virtuous and capable one—who could possibly speak ill of her?
“Miss, are you alright?” Hua Ping asked, growing worried as she noticed Lin Shu’s prolonged silence and increasingly cold expression.
“I’m fine,” Lin Shu snapped back to reality, a sharp glint flashing in her eyes. “I was just thinking about how remarkable my dear Liu Yiniang truly is.”
“Miss, what should we do now? When the master returns, will he…” Hua Ping’s voice was filled with anxiety.
“Wait for him to return?” Lin Shu curled her lips into a mocking smile. “Hua Ping, in his heart, who do you think matters more? A troublesome legitimate daughter like me, or a gentle, understanding illegitimate daughter who has earned him so much face?”
Hua Ping’s face paled, and she fell silent.
The answer was obvious.
Relying on that father who favors others to the extreme was even less reliable than hoping that dog man Xiao Che would suddenly grow a conscience.
“So, we can’t wait,” Lin Shu straightened up. Though her face was still pale, her eyes shone with startling intensity. “We must resolve everything before they return.”
“But… how?” Hua Ping was at a loss.
“Since they love putting on a show, we’ll build a bigger stage and put on an even grander performance with them,” Lin Shu’s eyes sparkled with something called “excitement”—the same look she had in her previous life when she stumbled upon a brilliant idea while working on a project.
“Hua Ping, you mentioned earlier that Liu Yiniang performed as a Qingyi in that Brocade Troupe?”
“Yes, that’s what the Ya Po said.”
“Good,” Lin Shu’s lips slowly curved into a dangerous smile. “Go find out about Chun Feng Lou for me—get some kind of token that allows free entry. Then, find Aunt Liu and ask her to help me with something.”
She leaned close to Hua Ping’s ear and whispered a few instructions.
Hua Ping’s eyes widened in disbelief, her face filled with astonishment.
“Miss, this…”
“What’s with the hesitation.” Lin Shu patted her hand, her tone carrying undeniable certainty. “Just go when I tell you to. Money isn’t an issue. If she handles this well, I’ll add another five hundred taels.”
“Remember, you must find someone from the original Brocade Troupe. They need to be tight-lipped, skilled in acting, and most importantly—greedy for money.”
“Yes, I understand!” Hua Ping looked at the calculating light in her young mistress’s eyes, and the unease in her heart instantly vanished.
She nodded firmly before turning to leave quickly.
Back in the room, Lin Shu slowly let out a breath and lay back down on the bed.
She slept dreamlessly through the night.
When Lin Shu woke again, sunlight was already streaming through the window.
She felt the emptiness in her body had improved somewhat. Though still weak, at least the dull pain in her head had dissipated.
Those black, poisonous chicken soups… no, the medicinal decoctions had taken effect.
Liu Yiniang and her biased father were returning today.
Sitting before the dressing table, Lin Shu watched her pale face in the mirror, her gaze gradually turning cold.
A mere dowry maid who climbed to become the prime minister’s concubine, manipulated the legitimate daughter like a puppet, charmed the chancellor completely, and even had questionable connections with the old physician from the capital’s pharmacy—if there wasn’t some story behind all this, she’d write her name backwards.
A Qingyi opera singer?
Lin Shu curled her lips.
Opera singers were experts at reading people and playing roles.
Hadn’t Liu Yiniang been performing a grand act of gentleness and virtue throughout her decade in the chancellor’s residence?
The stage Hua Ping was setting up was their backup plan, meant to deliver the fatal blow to Liu Yiniang at the critical moment.
But before that, she needed more direct evidence.
As for who poisoned her, she couldn’t rely on Xiao Che to investigate. Though that damned man was beginning to waver, he remained a terminal chauvinist poisoned by feudal thinking, entirely dependent on his subordinates for investigations with pitiful efficiency.
She couldn’t casually use Incantation again either—that thing was a death warrant. Each use brought her one step closer to reincarnation.
So she needed external help.
“Hua Ping, come in.”
Hua Ping entered, carrying today’s portion of “poisonous chicken soup.”
Lin Shu’s face instantly scrunched up.
“Set it aside first.” She waved a hand. “Did you get what I asked for?”
“Got it.” Hua Ping put down the medicinal soup and produced a wooden token from her sleeve.
Lin Shu examined it and nodded with satisfaction. “Find me the most inconspicuous men’s clothing you can—slightly worn—and bring a veil hat.”
Hua Ping hesitated. “Young mistress, are you planning to…”
“Leave the residence.” Lin Shu’s tone brooked no argument. “I have some private matters to attend to.”
“But your health…”
“I won’t die.” Lin Shu cut her off. “Hurry.”
“Yes.”
A quarter-hour later, a slender young man in faded blue cloth robes and a veil hat slipped out through the side gate with Hua Ping’s assistance, skillfully avoiding the residence servants.
Before leaving, Lin Shu didn’t forget to weakly add to the two dutiful guards at the gate:
“The weather is lovely today. Why don’t you both go enjoy the flowers in the garden? Don’t return until nightfall.”
…
Chun Feng Lou.
The capital’s largest den of pleasure and most famous intelligence trading center.
While appearing as a restaurant on the surface, it secretly dealt in the business of selling information.
As long as you can afford the price, there is nothing they cannot uncover—from the secrets of imperial relatives to the private affairs of commoners.
Lin Shu adjusted the veil hat on her head and stepped into the resplendent building.
She did not head toward the bustling main hall but went straight to a secluded counter, placing a plain wooden token on the surface.
The clerk dozing behind the counter immediately straightened up upon seeing the token, his expression shifting instantly. He respectfully gestured and said, “Young master, please follow me.”