The distance between them suddenly closed. Qin Fei felt she could count every lash on his eyelids, his hot breath brushing her skin. She swallowed hard.
Cen Hejue felt the damp warmth on his palm, frowned, and quickly pulled his hand away, wiping it with a cloth.
Qin Xiu thought the whole scene absurd. Her gaze darted between Cen Hejue and Qin Fei, unease rising.
“Perceptor, so yesterday—did you see me or not?” Qin Fei pressed again.
His lips moved, words muffled: “I did.”
“You see? The truth is clear now.” Qin Fei shrugged, pointing at the two maids who had lied. “Bold of you. I saw you sneaking into Mingxin Hall yesterday, yet you dared to throw mud on the Chancellor’s daughter. Who sent you?”
The maids trembled, exchanging glances, too afraid to speak.
“No answer?” Qin Fei sneered, mimicking the original princess’s spoiled arrogance. “So you’re not afraid of me? My temper isn’t that forgiving.”
The maids collapsed to their knees before her, startling Qin Fei so much she nearly knelt too. It was the first time anyone had bowed to her since she transmigrated into this book—suddenly, the feudal world felt very real. She swallowed and edged closer to Cen Hejue, still feigning bravado. “Speak, or beware—the Perceptor may take your lives.”
Behind her, Cen Hejue muttered low enough for only her to hear, “If they don’t speak, what’s that to me?”
Qin Fei turned back with a bright smile. “Husband and wife are one, aren’t they? If they’re bullying me, shouldn’t you seek justice for me?”
At those words—*husband and wife are one*—Cen Hejue’s expression darkened. He clearly hadn’t expected her shamelessness.
The maids shook harder, glancing repeatedly at Qin Xiu.
“What’s this?” Qin Fei asked curiously. “Why keep looking at my Third Sister? If you won’t speak, people might think she ordered you to frame the Chancellor’s daughter.”
Qin Xiu’s face drained of color. She clutched her chest, cried out in pain, and collapsed.
“Third Princess!” Ah Bi rushed to catch her. “Summon the imperial physician! Her heart ailment has flared!”
Whether she truly fainted was uncertain, but at least Gu Nian and Qin Fei’s names were cleared.
When the Emperor heard his beloved daughter’s heart had acted up, he hurried from the Zichen Hall to Qin Xiu’s Yuxiu Palace. Learning Qin Fei was involved, he didn’t wait for Qin Xiu to wake—he immediately blamed Qin Fei, summoning her and Cen Hejue to Yuxiu Palace.
Upon entering, Qin Fei looked around. The old emperor’s theatrics were thorough: Yuxiu Palace was far inferior to Baohua Palace. No wonder the world believed Qin Fei was the favored daughter, not Qin Xiu. Later, when Qin Fei was sent away in marriage, Qin Xiu was carefully protected. The people praised the emperor’s noble sacrifice—giving up his “most beloved” daughter for peace.
“Sigh—”
Before they reached the main hall, Cen Hejue heard Qin Fei sigh. He glanced at her. “What’s wrong? Is the Eighth Princess worried now?”
“Worried about what?” Qin Fei asked, puzzled.
“Worried your lies will be exposed?” Cen Hejue asked, hands clasped behind his back.
Qin Fei froze. “What lie did I tell?”
“Yesterday, you never had Hu Si escort Gu Nian home. Just now, in front of the Third Princess, you were bluffing.” Cen Hejue exposed the truth.
Feeling guilty, Qin Fei rubbed her nose. “How did you know?”
Cen Hejue’s lips curved without warmth. “When I left the palace yesterday, Hu Si was still there. The Chancellor’s residence isn’t that close. Unless Hu Si sprouted wings, he couldn’t have flown back.”
“…”
Her lie pierced so cleanly that Qin Fei had no choice but to admit it. “Fine. But wasn’t it Qin Xiu who schemed first? And you, Perceptor—you clearly saw me yesterday, yet claimed you hadn’t. You knew the truth but stayed silent. Is that the conduct of a gentleman?”
Cen Hejue found her more and more intriguing. “A gentleman? Does the Eighth Princess truly think I am one?”
Of course not. Qin Fei grumbled inwardly, but outwardly kept her composure. “No matter what others think, in my heart, you are a gentleman. Even if you sometimes act in ways that seem less than upright, I know—if you had another choice, you wouldn’t do so.”
His faint smile faltered. “What else do you know?”
Qin Fei stopped at the hall’s entrance, winking playfully. “Actually, I can read fortunes. Do you believe me?”
He raised a brow. “Do you think I’d believe in fortune‑telling?”
She clicked her tongue. “How about this—if I’m right, you must grant me one condition.”
“What condition?”
“First, let me read. If I’m wrong, you owe me nothing.” Qin Fei grinned.
He found it laughable, but she was utterly serious, studying his face. “You’re handsome, but between your brows coils a shadow of gloom. It means you were destined to attract many women, yet this tangled aura disrupts your fate. You may never meet your true love—perhaps doomed to be a lonely star.”
Cen Hejue watched her solemnly joke.
“And this red mole on your nose bridge…” Qin Fei tilted her head, silent for a moment.
“What about it?” he asked.
She stroked her chin. “Your nose is high and straight. That mole seems like your destiny itself—hinting at the position you’ll one day reach. High above the clouds, wielding great power, obtaining everything you desire.”
“Oh?” His gaze sharpened. “So I’ll be a powerful, lonely star?”
Qin Fei shook her head. “Not exactly. That was your fate before I appeared. Without me, perhaps you’d be a lonely star. But I’m tough, blessed with fortune. I’ll stay by your side until our hair turns white. I’ll make sure you’re never alone.”
Cen Hejue felt he’d wasted a whole cup of tea listening to her nonsense.
Suddenly, something soft brushed his nose bridge, like a drop of water.—afleeting warmth.
Qin Fei had raised her hand, fingertips stroking the red mole, then sliding to his brow. “Bad luck, scatter. Good fortune, come quickly.”
His breath caught. Reflected in his dark eyes was her radiant smile, charming enough to stir his heart. His body stiffened.
“Alright. Now I’m your guardian of fate.” Qin Fei nodded solemnly. “Don’t worry. Leave it to me—I’ll definitely botch it… no, I’ll definitely see it through.”
Cen Hejue snapped back to himself, his dazed expression vanishing, replaced by his usual composure.
Qin Fei’s hand was brushed aside. Cen Hejue looked at her without emotion. “Who told you to be my guardian?” His expression was cold and detached, though the tips of his ears were burning red.
“Little Eight, Hejue, come in.” The Emperor had clearly overheard their fortune‑telling outside and sounded exasperated.
Cen Hejue stepped into the main hall first. Imperial Physician Li reported to the Emperor: “The Third Princess’s heart ailment was triggered by excessive agitation. She is stable now. With proper rest, she will be fine.”
Hearing this, Qin Fei nearly rolled her eyes. No doubt this physician was Qin Xiu’s man—like those “exclusive doctors” in domineering CEO novels, lying and colluding without hesitation.
“Agitated emotions?” The Emperor turned to Qin Fei. “Little Eight, did you bully your sister again?”
“…” Qin Fei braced herself, then put on a look of wounded innocence. “Father, how can you say that? Do you truly think your daughter is so wild and unrestrained that she would bully her own sister?”
“…” The Emperor said nothing, but his eyes betrayed the thought: *Isn’t that exactly what you are?*
“Besides, Father, you don’t even know what happened in Mingxin Hall. Why blame me blindly? It’s not as though only I can make mistakes. Perhaps this time it was Third Sister’s fault.”
Her downcast lashes and sorrowful expression gave the Emperor pause.
“But… everyone knows Xiu’er’s temper. She never quarrels. If she wasn’t provoked, how could her heart ailment flare?” Regaining confidence, he fixed her with a stern look. “Little Eight, don’t lie to deceive me.”
“Fine, I admit it,” Qin Fei said.
Cen Hejue instinctively glanced at her.
“You admit to bullying Xiu’er?” the Emperor demanded.
“It’s not that I want to admit it—it’s that this is the answer you want to hear. In your eyes, Qin Xiu is fragile and helpless, while I am nothing but spoiled and willful. Outwardly, you dote on me, but in your heart, isn’t it always Third Sister you cherish?”
Her words nearly made the Emperor lose his composure. Qin Fei lowered her head, tears spilling down her lashes. “I know that bracelet meant the world to her. But that doesn’t justify slandering the Chancellor’s daughter. I only pitied Gu Nian and stood up to prove her innocence. Yet Third Sister pushed the blame onto me. If Perceptor hadn’t testified that I didn’t break the bracelet, I would have been condemned unjustly in Mingxin Hall today.”
With that, she turned and threw herself into Cen Hejue’s arms. He was displeased, ready to push her away—until he caught the flicker of self‑mockery in her eyes. His hand stilled.
“Third Sister has Father and Consort Zheng’s love. I am different. My father doesn’t care, and my mother doesn’t love me. I have nothing.”
“No one… no one loves me.” Her voice trembled with genuine emotion. Memories of her real family surfaced: a father who died early, a mother who favored her brother. She remembered working tirelessly to pay university tuition, skipping meals, never buying new clothes—while her brother basked in their mother’s care. The apartment her father left had two bedrooms; her mother gave the master bedroom to her brother, claiming she was a light sleeper. Qin Fei was left with a narrow sofa where she couldn’t stretch her legs. In summer, there was only one fan. Her mother said her brother was still growing and needed good sleep, so the fan went to him.
She remembered her senior year of high school, when rest was crucial. She woke drenched in sweat, unable to bear the heat, and tried to squeeze into the master bedroom. But there was her mother, lying beside her brother, hand raised, fanning him gently with a palm fan.
For Qin Fei, that place had never been a home. Home meant love. That house was merely a dwelling for two people who shared her blood.
In that little house, her mother would always give the only chicken drumstick in the soup to her brother. Even when Qin Fei was struggling to make ends meet, her mother would spend most of her wages on sneakers for him.
Of course, the remaining half wasn’t for Qin Fei either—it was saved for her brother’s future wedding and house. In her original world, there were similarities to the life of the body she now inhabited. Only, the original Qin Fei was far luckier. Even with her spoiled, willful nature, there were still people who loved her.
Qin Fei was different.
No one loved her.
“…”
Tears streamed down Qin Fei’s face. Then a hand pressed lightly against her back, patting her shoulder. She blinked in surprise, lifting her gaze—only to meet Cen Hejue’s complicated, unreadable eyes.
“Your Majesty, today truly wasn’t the Eighth Princess’s fault. The Third Princess fainted on her own.” Cen Hejue spoke up for Qin Fei, something no one had expected. Not even Qin Fei herself.
The Emperor, remembering belatedly that he ought to maintain the image of a loving father, said, “Ah Fei, just now I was only asking. What are you saying? How could I not care for you?”
Qin Fei seized the chance, burying her face against Cen Hejue’s shoulder, sobbing and refusing to answer the Emperor.
“Since the Master has said it wasn’t Ah Fei’s fault, then I wronged her. Very well.” The Emperor turned to the attendants. “Go to the treasury and select some jewelry the Eighth Princess likes, and that Ru kiln vase she admired recently—bring it to her.”
“No need.” Her refusal startled the Emperor.
“I’ll choose for myself.”
At that, the Emperor finally relaxed.
“As for that… Gu—” He faltered, forgetting the name.
“Gu Nian,” Qin Fei reminded him.
The Emperor nodded. “Since your Third Sister wronged her, please select some gifts on her behalf and send them to the Chancellor’s residence.”
This time Qin Fei did not refuse. She bowed out and left.
With the matter settled, Cen Hejue had no reason to remain and departed as well. But at the fork in the path, Qin Fei stopped him.
“What else does the Eighth Princess want?” His tone was impatient.
Qin Fei clasped her fists in salute. “Thank you for speaking up on my behalf just now.”
In the martial world, righteousness came first. Qin Fei had spent years training at the martial hall—half a wanderer herself. Cen Hejue had helped her once, and she would remember this favor.
“Condition.” Cen Hejue uttered the word, catching her off guard. “What?”
“You said if your fortune‑telling was accurate, I must grant you one condition,” he replied coolly.
“That doesn’t count anymore.”
Qin Fei smiled. “I’ve already decided what condition I’ll ask of you.”
He raised a brow. “What is it?”
“Well…” Qin Fei stepped closer, lips curving into a playful smile. “Now isn’t the right time. I’ll tell you when the moment is right.”
Earlier, before they entered Yuxiu Palace, the sky had been heavy with clouds, threatening rain. But now sunlight pierced through, spilling over the red walls. The two stood facing each other, and Qin Fei bent forward, her bright face lifted, smiling radiantly.
To Cen Hejue, that smile seemed more dazzling than the red walls and sunlight overhead.
It unsettled the heart.
It was irritating.
When they left the palace, Ah Yan came to meet him by the carriage. “Master.”
Cen Hejue boarded, then, after a pause, gave a quiet order: “Investigate who Qin Fei has been associating with lately. See if she’s lost her mind.”
By his judgment, this person was not truly Qin Fei. But if not her, then who was wearing her skin? He intended to find out.
Qin Fei, meanwhile, emerged from the treasury carrying a pile of treasures, returning to Baohua Palace in her sedan chair.
Seeing her mistress grinning ear to ear, Er Ya thought of a phrase: *a petty person in power.*
It wasn’t kind to think that way of her princess. But thoughts were private, and no one would know.
“Here, Er Ya, this is for you.” Qin Fei pulled out two jade bangles from the chest and handed them over.
Er Ya’s eyes widened. “These… aren’t these the mutton‑fat jade bracelets gifted by another kingdom years ago? They’re far too precious!”
“Do you want them or not?” Qin Fei asked.
Er Ya slipped them on immediately. “They’re beautiful.”
“Of course. These bangles are leagues finer than Qin Xiu’s.” Qin Fei chuckled, recalling her sister’s pitiful, tearful act.
“One broken bracelet—who cares? A petty trick.”
Er Ya, hearing Qin Fei mutter to herself, guessed something must have happened today. But seeing the large chest of treasures, she figured the outcome hadn’t been too bad for her mistress.
“Oh, and this little box—you’ll deliver it to the Chancellor’s residence tomorrow. Make sure you hand it directly to Gu Nian.”
Qin Fei tucked the jewelry she’d chosen into another box. Remembering Gu Nian’s oppressive stepmother and half‑sister, she added firmly, “If anyone tries to snatch it, don’t give it. Only Gu Nian is to receive it.”
“Why doesn’t Your Highness give it to her yourself?” Er Ya pulled out an invitation from her sleeve and handed it over. “This was delivered by Miss Gu when you were at Yuxiu Palace.”
“What’s this?” Qin Fei opened it and skimmed: *‘Madam Gu Lin, in her venerable years, cordially invites…’*
Er Ya explained, “It’s the Chancellor’s old madam’s birthday banquet. Miss Gu invites you to attend.”
Qin Fei rubbed the gilded seal, uneasy. Something about this didn’t feel simple. The Chancellor’s old madam’s birthday? A birthday banquet, such a classic setup. No brainless author would miss the chance to stir trouble.
Wait! A birthday banquet!
She remembered—the old madam was the heroine’s grandmother. In the original text, there was only one such banquet. At it, Qin Xiu drugged Gu Nian with a love potion and arranged for a beggar to assault her. Luckily, Song Jinglan arrived in time to save her. Though her chastity remained intact, her reputation was ruined. Rumors spread that she was wanton, seducing beggars, or scheming to get close to Song Jinglan.
Afterward, Song Jinglan hurt her again and again. When Gu Nian was already broken, Qin Xiu dragged the incident back out to humiliate her publicly. By then, Song Jinglan was married to Qin Xiu, doting on her, while scorning Gu Nian. That humiliation was the final straw that drove Gu Nian to take her own life.
“…”
Er Ya shook Qin Fei. “Your Highness, what are you thinking? Which gown should I prepare for tomorrow?”
Qin Fei’s mind was in turmoil, like two little soldiers battling inside her head. “I’m not going.” She shoved the invitation back into Er Ya’s hands.
*Meddling leads to an early grave. Meddling leads to an early grave.*
Earlier, when Qin Xiu framed Gu Nian, Qin Fei had been involved, so she couldn’t ignore it. But the birthday banquet was part of the original plot, nothing to do with her. Why interfere in Gu Nian’s fate? Her goal was to be a salted fish—salted fish don’t meddle.
“Why won’t you go?” Er Ya asked, puzzled. “Miss Gu seemed so happy when she brought the invitation. She said you’re the only friend she invited.”
That pricked Qin Fei’s conscience. Gu Nian had told her that in the palace, no one else treated her kindly.
“No, no.” Qin Fei clutched her head. “Qin Fei, you can’t be too kind. Kind people don’t live long.”
Er Ya didn’t catch her muttering. She brought over a food box. “By the way, Miss Gu also made your favorite pastries when she came. They’re still warm—eat them while they’re hot.”
The box was shoved into Qin Fei’s hands. She threw her head back and groaned.
“What’s wrong, Your Highness?” Er Ya’s eyes widened. “Are you possessed?”
Qin Fei closed her eyes. “Just this once.”
Er Ya didn’t understand.
“Bring me a plain gown. Something inconspicuous.” Qin Fei’s voice was resigned.
“But Your Highness never likes plain clothes. Tomorrow’s a birthday banquet—wouldn’t something grand show more face?”
“You don’t understand. If you’re sneaking around, you can’t stand out.”