In the first year of Yongzhen of the Later Yue dynasty, mid-March, in the capital Lin’an.
Grain Rain had just passed, and it was the season of late spring, when plums turned golden and wheat blossoms shone white.
In the rear courtyard of the Ding’an Marquis Cheng residence in the eastern part of the city—
It was not yet noon. The leaves of the osmanthus tree in the courtyard had deepened layer by layer into a rich green, echoing the brilliant vitality of spring outside. A swing, strung with colorful ropes, hung between two trees. Cheng Yunxiang, the second young lady of the marquis household, stood upon it in a ruqun of goose-yellow and peach-red. As the swing drifted downward, a light sheen of sweat adorned her temples, and she laughed brightly, urging the maid behind her, “Higher, push me higher…”
The two maids, Suli and Liufang, bent forward and used all their strength to send the swing soaring once more.
Where the breeze brushed past, her skirts fluttered lightly, and the ornaments at her waist chimed softly.
Amid the laughter and joy, faint rustling sounds could be heard. At some unknown moment, a neatly dressed senior maid had entered through the side gate. She approached, lowered her head, and performed a respectful curtsy. “Young Lady, the Marquis has returned from court and is currently in the Old Madam’s quarters. Madam is there as well. I was sent to invite you over.”
The maid was Zhuru, who served at the side of her grandmother, Old Madam Cheng. The “Marquis” she referred to was the Old Madam’s son, Cheng Ping, the Ding’an Marquis and Yunxiang’s father, while the “Madam” was her mother, Chen Baomiao.
Cheng Yunxiang slowly stepped down from the swing. She raised a hand to smooth her slightly loosened raven-black hair and walked out of the courtyard, following Zhuru toward the main room of the east courtyard where Old Madam Cheng resided. “Sister Zhuru, did something happen?”
She had gone to pay her respects to her grandmother that very morning. Why had someone been sent to summon her again so soon?
Judging by the position of the sun, it should be just after the court had been dismissed. Normally, at this hour, Cheng Ping would still be at a teahouse with a few colleagues, enjoying tea and music, far from returning home so early. Yet today he had hurried back… could something in court have implicated the Cheng family?
At the thought, unease rose in Cheng Yunxiang’s heart.
Seeing the bright and lively young lady, Zhuru stepped closer and lowered her voice, whispering, “This servant heard the Marquis mention that news has come from the palace… Consort Chen is ill…”
Cheng Ping had four daughters in his household. His eldest legitimate daughter, Cheng Zhixiang, had grown into a striking beauty, graceful and delicate, skilled in song and dance, and accomplished in music. She was the foremost beauty of Lin’an.
Five years ago, during the Lantern Festival, Song Yu, who was then the Crown Prince, had slipped out of the palace in plain clothes to enjoy the festivities. While admiring the lanterns, he encountered Cheng Zhixiang. With a single glance and her radiant smile, she captured his heart. He followed her from a distance until the lights dimmed. Not long after that night, the Grand Princess personally came to propose marriage.
At that time, the Eastern Palace already had a Crown Princess of the Fan family, along with Consorts Pan and Zhang. After entering the palace, Cheng Zhixiang became a Liangdi. Later, several other noble families sent in women as well, but none, whether new or old, could rival the favor she received. Some had never even been summoned, gradually turning into resentful figures within the deep palace.
At the end of last year, after the late Emperor passed away, Crown Prince Song Yu ascended the throne. Perhaps due to the short time since his accession, he had not yet established an Empress. In the harem, there were only four consorts: Virtuous Consort Fan, Consort Chen, Consort Pan, and Consort Zhang. The title “Chen” was personally chosen by the new Emperor, and Cheng Zhixiang’s favor remained as strong as it had been in the Eastern Palace.
Her full sister, Cheng Yunxiang, along with the two daughters born to concubines, Cheng Hanxiang and Cheng Lixiang, were all still unmarried, awaiting their matches.
…
Hearing that her elder sister was ill, Cheng Yunxiang quickened her pace, lifting her skirts as she walked swiftly.
The Cheng residence was a grand estate of five courtyards. Lush greenery filled the grounds. Passing white walls, black tiles, covered corridors, and several flower gates, she finally arrived at the main room of the east courtyard. The maids and old servants, seeing her from afar, lifted the beaded curtain. “Miss Yun has arrived.”
Entering the room, she saw her grandmother seated on the main couch. Old Madam Cheng, in her sixties, wore a dark blue robe patterned with gold. Half her hair was silver, her face plump and fair, her eyes sharp with worldly understanding. At the moment, her brows were furrowed and her lips slightly downturned, as if deep in thought.
Cheng Ping had not taken a seat. He paced slowly before her, a tall and well-built man in his forties, with a fair face and a short beard. Dressed in a green official robe with bamboo leaf patterns, he appeared both dignified and refined, a handsome man even in middle age.
He glanced at Cheng Yunxiang as she entered, gave a slight nod, then turned to his wife Chen Baomiao, who sat below Old Madam Cheng on the right. In an impatient tone, he said, “Why haven’t the third and fourth girls arrived yet? Send someone to hurry them again.”
Chen Baomiao, about the same age as him, had plain features and a somewhat flat face. Her expression remained calm, and she did not respond to her husband. Instead, she looked at Cheng Yunxiang. “Did you see Hanxiang and Lixiang on your way here?”
All three daughters had been summoned together, and they should have arrived one after another.
Chen Baomiao was born into one of the nine great families of Lin’an, the Jiangdong Chen clan. In her youth, she had fallen for Cheng Ping’s handsome looks when he was still of humble means. Against her parents’ desperate objections, she married him and lived a modest life. In the second year of their marriage, she gave birth to Cheng Zhixiang. Six years later, she became pregnant again, but during labor, she suffered a difficult birth. After two days and nights, she finally delivered a baby girl who barely seemed alive. Seeing the child on the verge of death, she forced herself upright despite her extreme weakness, clutching the newborn and wailing until she fainted.
Cheng Ping, though heartbroken, wrapped the child in his outer robe and, with a sigh, prepared to take her away. Yet at that moment, the infant suddenly sneezed, coughed out the amniotic fluid choking her lungs, and cried loudly—
She lived.
But unknown to them, within that infant’s body was no longer the original second daughter of the Cheng family. Instead, it was Shen Luo, a woman from the future who had transmigrated into her.
She had once been a programmer. At twenty-eight, under her mother’s pressure to marry, relatives introduced her to a PhD candidate from a top university. Judging from his photo, his looks and height were acceptable, so she agreed to meet him.
During their first dinner, while cutting his steak, he deliberately brushed her hand and even pinched her fingertips. His repeated, inappropriate advances immediately extinguished any goodwill she had. When she withdrew, he said matter-of-factly, “Miss Shen, I hope we can move quickly. After all, you’re not that young anymore. If you delay, having multiple children later will make it hard to maintain your figure… You know, for a successful man like me, his wife must remain slim and elegant, able to wear all kinds of fashion…”
For the next half hour, he outlined their future life together, including buying a house, a car, and raising children. He meticulously allocated her entire income into expenses, not even leaving her any personal allowance.
Hearing him call himself a “successful man,” Shen Luo nearly laughed out loud. She found an excuse, paid her share of the bill, and left early. The blind date ended there.
But after returning home, her mother kept nagging, urging her to marry him immediately, saying she would never find another opportunity like this and that she was getting too old.
Shen Luo remained silent, but her mother continued endlessly, eventually breaking down in tears. She cursed her ex-husband who had abandoned them years ago, lamented the hardships of raising a child alone, and began smashing things around the house.
The chaotic noise struck Shen Luo like a hammer. Unable to stay, she returned to the office to work late. Near three in the morning, she suddenly felt a tightness in her chest, and then everything went black. When she woke again, she had become Cheng Yunxiang, the newborn second daughter of the Cheng family.
Back among the living, Shen Luo let out a long breath and burst into tears, releasing all the grievances of her previous life.
Hearing the commotion, Madam Chen jolted upright and cried out, “My child—”
Within moments, the new mother’s emotions swung from despair to joy. The intense fluctuation caused postpartum convulsions. Afterward, she sought treatment everywhere, drinking countless bowls of medicine and carefully recuperating for over half a year before recovering.
Perhaps the ordeal had exhausted her, extinguishing any desire to bear more children. After her confinement, she took the initiative to arrange several concubines for Cheng Ping. From then on, he frequently took new wives, and the concubines gradually bore him children, adding two daughters and two sons to the Cheng family. Grateful to his wife, and with their eldest daughter entering the Eastern Palace and bringing honor to the family, Cheng Ping grew increasingly respectful toward Chen Baomiao. Though their marriage was not overly passionate, he gradually became somewhat fearful of her authority, and their household came to be ruled by her, achieving a harmonious balance.
The noblewomen of Lin’an envied her greatly.
In private, they advised their unmarried daughters that when choosing a husband, talent mattered, but looks mattered even more. A talented man might not succeed, but a handsome one would never be a loss. Look at Chen Baomiao—she bore a daughter as beautiful as Cheng Ping, who gained the Emperor’s favor. As a result, she received noble titles and enjoyed endless wealth, all without needing to struggle to control her husband.
…
Now, the osmanthus had bloomed in the Cheng residence for sixteen years, and Cheng Yunxiang was also sixteen.
As a noble young lady, she had grown up in luxury, wearing fine clothes, eating exquisite food, living in grand houses, and being served by attendants. She lacked nothing except one thing—marriage. Since her coming-of-age ceremony last year, matchmakers frequently visited, and her family had begun seeking suitable husbands among the noble families, which troubled her greatly.
…
“I did not see Hanxiang and Lixiang on my way,” Cheng Yunxiang replied respectfully.
She was worried about her elder sister and had come as quickly as possible.
After speaking, she greeted Old Madam Cheng, who smiled kindly at the bright and radiant girl. “Yun girl, come sit beside me.”
She motioned for her to sit on the couch.
Just as Cheng Yunxiang sat down, the two concubine-born daughters arrived, accompanied by their mothers, Concubine Zhou and Concubine Li. They greeted Old Madam Cheng together.
Concubine Zhou had a delicate face, refined features, and a graceful bearing, though her slightly forward-leaning posture gave her a somewhat humble air compared to the main wife. Her daughter Cheng Hanxiang resembled her by half and Cheng Ping by the other half, a poised fifteen-year-old.
Concubine Li was soft-featured with fair skin and a slender figure, but her somewhat dull eyes diminished her beauty, earning her the nickname “wooden beauty” among the servants. Her daughter Cheng Lixiang resembled her father more, sharing six or seven parts of his appearance. Though younger than Hanxiang, she was taller.
They were unaware of Consort Chen’s illness but, seeing Cheng Ping still in his official robes, felt uneasy.
Old Madam Cheng gestured calmly for them to sit beside Cheng Yunxiang. The two concubines found seats near Chen Baomiao.
Cheng Ping paced again, then said in a low, grave tone, “After court today, Eunuch Wei passed me a message from the palace. He said Zhixiang is ill.”
At his words, the concubines tensed. Just as they were about to ask what illness she had, Cheng Ping sighed softly, “And at such a time…”