2
Pain—every part of her body ached.
A shrill, grating voice pierced her ears: “Just you watch I’ll break your legs today! You dare to run? And what right do you have to run anyway? For someone to be willing to buy you as a concubine is already a tremendous blessing, you ungrateful wretch!”
Du Qianqian slowly opened her eyes. Everything before her was hazy and unclear. She blinked, and gradually her vision came into focus.
Two questions arose in her mind: Who was this sharp-tongued, venomous woman before her? And where was she?
Had she not yet reported to the King of Hell?
Du Qianqian tried to speak, but her throat was parched—every word felt like gravel scraping raw. She asked, “Who are you?”
Mama Liu let out a derisive laugh, her jowls quivering and her face contorted with menace. She waved her fan and screeched, “Oh, still playing the fool in front of me, are you? I’m your own mother!”
She tossed aside her fan, stepped forward, grabbed Du Qianqian by the ear, and snarled, “Shen Qianqian, let me tell you—whether you like it or not, you’re walking through that gentleman’s door!”
Shen Qianqian?
Her surname wasn’t Shen.
She scrambled up from the ground, ignoring the pain throughout her body, and frantically searched the room until she found a mirror. The face reflected in it was strikingly beautiful—skin fair as snow, lustrous as jade; eyes like a clear spring; brows and features delicately painted, exuding a pitiable charm.
Three parts pure innocence, seven parts stunning allure.
Even in her previous life, Du Qianqian had never seen such a beautiful woman.
She finally understood—she still hadn’t been reborn.
At this realization, Du Qianqian’s temples throbbed with frustration. If only she hadn’t argued with Chen Queyu back then! Perhaps he might have taken pity and given her a proper funeral, erected a tombstone, and set up a memorial tablet—anything would have been better than drifting as a restless ghost for eight long years.
She asked, “What year is it now?”
Mama Liu eyed her with suspicion. “Don’t you dare play crazy with me.”
Du Qianqian urgently needed an answer to that question. At this moment, she looked utterly disheveled—hair in tangles, her short jacket and pleated skirt torn and rumpled. “Tell me, quickly!”
Having once been a young lady of a distinguished household, her commanding presence momentarily stunned Mama Liu into silence.
“The twenty-third year of the Xiaozhou reign.”
Du Qianqian calculated in her mind—that meant it was the fifth year after her death.
Mama Liu, seeing her dejected state, assumed she had completely given up on the idea of running away. Before leaving, she added, “You just stay put right here and wait for them to come fetch you. Being a concubine is still better than being a prostitute in a brothel, isn’t it? And don’t forget what kind of reputation you have.”
She held back even harsher words, not wanting to give this girl any reason to make trouble for her later.
With a swaying gait, she sauntered out and instructed the servant outside the door, “Keep a good eye on her.”
Du Qianqian sat on the ground, not bothering to tidy herself up. She let out a long sigh, sinking into a daze of confusion.
It seemed the original owner of this body was in quite a predicament.
What kind of karma had she accumulated to wake up only to find herself sold off as a concubine?
Du Qianqian braced herself against the floor and slowly stood up, surveying her surroundings. The small room was orderly and neat—a pear-wood desk, a few vases of budding flower branches placed by the window, and red bed curtains hanging down from the canopy above.
She found a new set of clothes in the wardrobe and changed into them. The outfit felt unfamiliar—a water-blue gauze jacket over a pleated embroidered skirt, her slender waist cinched tightly by a sash, the curves of her bosom barely contained, her figure exquisitely graceful.
A golden hairpin adorned her coiled tresses, its tassels swaying with every movement, revealing her charm in stillness and motion alike.
Once she had made herself presentable, she walked to the door and tried to open it from the inside, but it was locked from the outside—no doubt to prevent her from running away again.
Not that Du Qianqian had any intention of fleeing. Her indenture contract was probably still in that old woman’s hands. Without proper papers and with such a striking face, running away would only invite disaster.
“Hey! Is anyone out there?” she tried shouting a couple of times.
A gruff voice came from outside the door: “What’s all the yelling for? Just stay put.”
Du Qianqian clutched her empty stomach. “I’m hungry. If you starve me to death, you won’t be able to answer to Mama Liu.”
She hadn’t had a single drop of water or grain of rice in eight full years. The very first thing she wanted to do now that she was alive again was to eat.
After quite a while, the bolt on the door was slid open, and an old servant woman entered carrying a simple meal. Du Qianqian’s eyes lit up. She picked up her chopsticks and began to eat, cleaning every last dish. Only after finishing did she feel that this frail body had regained a bit of strength.
Du Qianqian was locked in that room for three whole days. During that time, through careful probing, she finally pieced together the situation of the body she now inhabited.
This young woman, named Shen Qianqian, was sixteen years old and hailed from Xuzhou. She had been sold by her parents to work as a maid in Yangzhou. Mama Liu, seeing her exquisite features, had kept her in a separate courtyard to raise, intending to offer her up as a concubine to some powerful official in the future.
Shen Qianqian’s reputation in Yangzhou was indeed quite poor. Rumors had it that she had seduced many promising young scholars—anyone with decent looks and acceptable family background would find her making eyes at them and flirting shamelessly.
Her wanton nature was bad enough, but her temperament was also said to be vicious. A few months earlier, a young gentleman she had her eye on took a liking to another girl in the courtyard. In a fit of rage, Shen Qianqian ordered her personal maid to push the girl into the river. Fortunately, the girl was rescued in time and survived.
Mama Liu couldn’t bear to harm that breathtaking face, so she gave Shen Qianqian a few lashes and let her off but the damage to her reputation was already done.
Some days ago, a refined and cultured young gentleman had arrived in Yangzhou. Word had it he was from the capital, from a distinguished family with formidable connections.
All the powerful families in Yangzhou were eager to curry favor with him. Shen Qianqian, bold as she was, drugged his wine and climbed into his bed.
This gentleman was well-known for his integrity and uprightness. Having been schemed against so thoroughly, his good name had taken a hit. Though he held no affection for Shen Qianqian, he nonetheless agreed to take her back to the capital as a concubine.
As for why Shen Qianqian had tried to run away, Du Qianqian couldn’t quite figure it out.
During those days confined indoors, a maidservant attended to her—presumably the very one who had served Shen Qianqian before.
The girl seemed terrified of her. Every day when she brought meals, she didn’t dare lift her head to look at Du Qianqian, and her hands trembled as she held the tray. Considering Shen Qianqian’s notorious cruelty, she had probably mistreated this young maid terribly.
Du Qianqian felt a pang of sympathy. A girl of barely ten or so, trembling in fear, not daring to smile or even sit—was that any way for a person to live?
Back when she was that age, she had been galloping on horseback without a care, never having to worry about anyone’s disapproval.
Before marrying Chen Queyu, Du Qianqian’s life had been quite carefree. Her father and brothers doted on her, and her uncles indulged her as well—she had lived boldly and freely.
“What’s your name?” Du Qianqian rested her chin on her hand and asked, looking at the girl.
The young maid was clearly terrified, her frail body trembling even more violently. “This servant is called Luyi, miss…”
Du Qianqian could guess what she was surprised about—forgetting her own personal maid’s name was bound to raise suspicion. She smiled and said, “Mama Liu hit me too hard and injured my head. I can’t remember many things from before. You mustn’t tell anyone about this.”
Luyi immediately covered her mouth, her eyes filled with fear. “This servant won’t tell.”
Du Qianqian sighed inwardly. It seemed this Miss Shen was indeed vicious through and through—one casual remark had scared the child half to death.
She reached out and patted Luyi’s head. “There’s no need to be afraid.”
But this gesture only made the girl tremble more, not less. She stammered in reply, “Th-this servant is not afraid.”
Alright then—winning people over was not something that could be rushed.
The room was scented with sandalwood, its faint fragrance lingering in the air. The window lattice was propped open, and golden sunlight slanted diagonally into the boudoir.
In her daze, Du Qianqian suddenly remembered she still had an important question to ask. “Luyi, do you know the name of that gentleman who bought me?”
Luyi kept her head lowered, as if wishing she could bury it in the ground. She bit her lip and said softly, “His surname is Rong. I think he’s called Rong Xuan.”
Upon hearing that name, Du Qianqian’s heart jolted. Her fair fingers turned cold. She had indeed met Rong Xuan before, though they had exchanged very few words—and that man had never yielded an inch to her.
She was two years older than Rong Xuan. Back then, when she visited the Rong household to play with the second young miss, the old matriarch had asked Rong Xuan to address her as “elder sister.” In front of the matriarch, the young master had nodded in agreement, but the moment they were alone, he reneged and sneered that she was dreaming.
Those past events were still crystal clear in Du Qianqian’s memory.
Seeing her lost in thought, Luyi added, “Though this servant has never seen that gentleman, I’ve heard he is exceptionally handsome, peerlessly refined, and has the finest temperament—gentle and kind.”
Du Qianqian rubbed her aching temples. What she remembered most vividly was everything she had witnessed in those eight years after her death—and Rong Xuan was by no means a kind-hearted man.
Three years later, this young master Rong would rise steadily through the ranks, wielding political cunning with ease.
Come to think of it, Rong Xuan was rather peculiar. After her death, he had frequently visited the Duke of Chen’s mansion under the pretext of being an old acquaintance, and occasionally played with her son, who was then seven or eight years old.
Her son had grown to look more and more like Chen Queyu—stern, unsmiling, always holed up in his study refusing to go out. Though her son was not close to her, Du Qianqian had always worried that his temperament would make it hard for him to find a wife in the future.
Du Qianqian harbored a certain fear of Rong Xuan from the depths of her heart. When she was a restless ghost, she had witnessed Rong Xuan personally kill someone—and that someone was the trusted maidservant of the concubine from Chen Queyu’s western courtyard.
The two had no connection whatsoever. No matter how hard she racked her brain, she couldn’t figure out why Rong Xuan would kill a maidservant.
“Luyi, do you know what that Master Rong is doing in Yangzhou?”
“This servant heard them say he’s here for the silk trade.” Seeing the confusion in Du Qianqian’s eyes, Luyi grew anxious again, afraid that this young miss might start causing trouble again. Although she had been quiet these past few days, Luyi still harbored her doubts.
“Miss, please don’t think about running away. If Mama Liu catches you, you’ll be in for a severe beating. This gentleman is a dragon among men—a wealthy merchant from the capital. Even if you become his concubine, life won’t be too hard on you.”
Besides, she had been sold to Yangzhou by a matchmaker as a poor girl from a humble family—it was nearly impossible for her to marry into a high station.
Others might not know, but Du Qianqian was well aware that Rong Xuan was not a merchant at all. By this time, he was already a court official. However, the Rong family members were not particularly fond of him.
Du Qianqian didn’t like him either. No matter how amiable Rong Xuan appeared to outsiders, she had always known that he was quite wicked at heart—accustomed to underhanded schemes and ruthless in his methods.
**