“What are you dawdling for?!”
A coarse, grating voice crashed through the door, sharp and merciless.
The matron in a blue cloth robe strode in with a vicious look on her face and stopped before Meng Wantang in a few quick steps.
She reached out as if to twist her arm. “I’m warning you—behave yourself! Don’t try any tricks, and don’t even think about letting the Prince know your identity! You are nothing more than a woman brought in to bear a child in place of the Princess Consort!”
“Useless trash. The only thing of value about you is your womb!”
The carved bronze mirror reflected a palm-sized face, skin like congealed cream, lips like cherry blossoms touched with rouge.
A pair of almond eyes shimmered with moisture, the slight upward tilt at their corners carrying a natural allure. Even pale at this moment, she could not conceal her breathtaking beauty.
Meng Wantang lifted her fingers to touch her cheek in the mirror. The icy sensation at her fingertips made her heart jolt.
Instinctively, she turned her head aside. The matron’s hand grasped at empty air.
Her expression darkened further as she glared viciously. “Listen carefully. When the Prince comes later, I’ve already taught you what to say and what to do. If there’s even the slightest mistake, not only will you die—your son won’t live either!”
The words “your son” were like an ice-tempered blade stabbing straight into Meng Wantang’s heart.
Memories from her previous life surged forward, drowning her in an instant.
She had been the true daughter of the Meng family, only to be swapped at birth by her aunt with her own daughter, Meng Wanqing.
She became an orphan in the countryside.
After Meng Wanqing married into Prince Jing’s Manor yet failed to conceive for a long time—
And Prince Jing, Xiao Jingyuan, held military power, the pillar upon which the Meng family relied—
They discovered that although Xiao Jingyuan was allergic to women, he alone had no reaction to Meng Wantang. Combined with Meng Wanqing’s infertility—
Under the pretext of taking her in as a “bedchamber maid,” they sent her into the Prince’s Manor.
In truth, she was made to receive his favor and bear children in Meng Wanqing’s stead.
On those nights, Meng Wanqing would claim she was unwell and lure Xiao Jingyuan to the side courtyard.
Then she would secretly send Meng Wantang into the room.
Xiao Jingyuan had never seen her face.
He believed the woman sharing his bed was Princess Consort Meng Wanqing.
After ten months of pregnancy, she gave birth to a son—Xiao Muyan.
Yet the child was immediately claimed under Meng Wanqing’s name, praised by all as “the Princess Consort’s son.”
If she wished to see her own child, she had to endure endless humiliation. In order to bear a child with a prosperous fate and favorable birth chart for Meng Wanqing, she replaced her in bed night after night.
Later, she accidentally learned of her true identity. Summoning her courage, she sought out her parents and four brothers in the Meng family, only to receive a single sentence:
“Wanqing has been with the Meng family for over a decade. We already regard her as our own daughter. Since you have entered the Prince’s Manor, behave yourself.”
So they had known everything all along.
They simply refused to give up the stability Meng Wanqing brought.
And they were unwilling to acknowledge her—the true daughter who had “lost her status.”
Later still, Prince Jing’s Manor fell under the Emperor’s suspicion, and the entire household was exiled.
She endured hunger and cold along the way, fawning over the Meng family, even shielding them from wind and snow, begging for dry rations on their behalf.
In return, she received only indifference.
In the endless snowstorm, starving and freezing, she watched with her own eyes as Meng Wanqing tortured Xiao Muyan to death.
And she herself was abandoned in the wilderness.
As she swallowed her last breath—
Xiao Jingyuan never knew that the woman who had shared countless nights with him and borne his son was never Meng Wanqing.
It was her—Meng Wantang.
What the Meng family did not know was—
She did not originally belong to this world.
She had once been a top special agent from the 35th century, who accidentally transmigrated during a mission.
She became this Meng Wantang, but lost her memories.
Her tragic death in her previous life was not only humiliation for this body—
It was the greatest disgrace of her career as an agent.
The matron kept prattling on. “When the Prince comes later, you behave obediently. Afterward, return to the side courtyard immediately. Leave no trace behind! As long as you stay compliant, Xiao Muyan will live well. If you dare expose anything, don’t blame us for being ruthless!”
This was their warning every single time.
Meng Wantang’s hand hanging at her side slowly clenched, her nails digging deep into her palm.
The piercing pain cleared her mind completely.
In the mirror, the softness in the young girl’s eyes faded, replaced by bone-chilling coldness and resolve.
She had returned—returning with the mind and methods of a 35th-century agent, returning with the hatred of two lifetimes.
Everything Meng Wanqing and the Meng family owed her, she would reclaim one by one.
She suddenly recalled that in her previous life, Meng Wanqing carried a jade pendant at all times. The jade was warm and translucent, containing within it a spiritual spring space.
It could nourish the body and even calm the mind.
Meng Wanqing’s ability to sit firmly as Princess Consort in the Manor, and later maintain dignity during exile—
All depended on that spiritual spring.
And that jade pendant did not belong to the Meng family.
It had been a token personally bestowed by Xiao Jingyuan at the beginning.
Seeing her finally react, the matron assumed she was frightened. Her tone softened slightly but remained commanding. “Hurry and tidy yourself up. Change into this pink dress. The Prince will arrive soon.”
Meng Wantang lifted her gaze. The coldness in her eyes had already receded, leaving behind only dead calm.
She looked at the matron.
Then slowly spoke, her voice carrying the softness of a young girl, yet hiding unquestionable chill.
“I understand.”
But this time, she would no longer be manipulated.
Xiao Jingyuan was allergic to all women, yet unaffected by her alone—that was her greatest leverage.
Meng Wanqing still wanted to impersonate her and receive favor? Wanted her son to mistake a thief for his mother?
Dream on.
In this lifetime, she would reclaim her identity, seize back the spiritual spring space, protect her son, and make Meng Wanqing and the Meng family pay the price.
Her fingertips brushed against the cold fox mask on her face. The fox eyes painted in gold concealed most of her features, revealing only her delicate chin and vividly colored lips.
Steady footsteps approached from afar, carrying the crisp scent of dragon’s saliva incense.
They entered the room thick with cosmetic fragrance.
Meng Wantang’s heart jolted.
She slowly opened her eyes and looked through the slits of the mask.
The man wore a black brocade robe embroidered with dark golden cloud patterns. His figure stood straight as a pine, ink-black hair bound with a jade crown, revealing a sharply defined jawline.
His imposing handsomeness and authority were unmistakable.
It was Prince Jing—Xiao Jingyuan.
In her previous life, she had embraced this man countless times in the darkness.
And never dared reveal the truth.
But in this lifetime, she would tear apart this falsehood.
Xiao Jingyuan had just reached the bedside—
Meng Wantang abruptly sat up, raised her hand, and tore off the fox mask, tossing it aside.
Candlelight flickered, illuminating her strikingly beautiful face.
Xiao Jingyuan stiffened, clearly not expecting her sudden action. His brows furrowed.
“How is it you?” The next second, his tone shifted, carrying vigilance and confusion.
Meng Wantang looked at him.
Then suddenly laughed.
Her laughter brimmed with endless mockery.
Word by word, she said, “Xiao Jingyuan, we’ve slept together so many times—are you really this blind?”
His expression darkened instantly.
As if hearing the greatest joke, she laughed colder still. “Xiao Jingyuan, you’re pitifully foolish! Did you truly think I was Meng Wanqing?”
She leaned closer, her breath nearly brushing his ear, her voice icy.
“I am not Meng Wanqing. I am Meng Wantang—the lowly concubine carried into the Manor through the side gate to bear her child!”
She continued, “Time and again we shared this bed, yet you still don’t know who I am! You’re allergic to every woman in the world, except me. Why do you think Meng Wanqing can sit securely as your Princess Consort? Because the one receiving your favor every time was me! And the son is ours.”
“What proof do you have?”
Xiao Jingyuan’s voice was low and hoarse, with a trace of wavering.
Meng Wantang looked at him, suddenly released her hand, rose on tiptoe, and fiercely pressed her lips to his.
The soft touch carried a hint of coolness, spreading through Xiao Jingyuan’s entire body in an instant.
He stiffened, instinctively wanting to push her away—
Yet realized he had no allergic reaction whatsoever.
Instead, an unfamiliar tremor surged within his heart.