Volume One, Chapter One: A Tragic Death and Rebirth

“What a pitiful sight—having to wash endless clothes even during the Lantern Festival.”

“Pitiful? She deserves it. If she hadn’t been so jealous and hurt the little princess, would His Majesty have punished her with reflection in the Eternal Lane? She really thought she was the most beloved princess? Just an adopted daughter, not even worth a strand of the gentle princess’s hair.”

“Exactly. The little princess grew up among commoners and knows how to care for us servants, unlike her—arrogant and malicious! Let’s not bother with her. Come, let’s eat sweet dumplings. It’s a festival, no need to let her ill luck taint our day!”

In the bitter chill of winter, within the sunless confines of the Eternal Lane, several palace maids spat as they passed by Mu Yuan Zhi, who was huddled in a corner, shivering from the cold. They continued on, laughing and chatting.

Mu Yuan Zhi’s hands were red, swollen, and numb from the cold. She tried to warm them with her breath, but as she moved her arm, the heavy shackles dragged down several buckets, and the laundry she’d worked on all morning was instantly covered in snow and dust.

She leaned her head back against the wall in defeat, the feeling of injustice she had nearly suppressed now surging anew.

Taking a deep breath, Mu Yuan Zhi reminded herself that having lived a second life, she must no longer wallow in self-pity.

Compared to her previous life—stripped of her skin and stuffed with straw, tortured to death—what were cold and hunger, what was servitude, but trifles?

She looked at her own skin, battered and bruised, but still clinging to flesh and bone.

Her imperial father once praised her for skin whiter than snow, jesting that he should grant her the title Princess Snow. Yet it was he who later condemned her to be flayed alive, her skin turned into a drum, stuffed with straw, and hung at the city gate for all to see.

Whenever she recalled this, terror engulfed her, her chest tightened, and she grew even colder, fingers digging into her palms just to stay conscious.

In her previous life, she spent sixteen years as a noble princess before learning she was adopted. Her true parents, the great general and his wife, perished in battle soon after her birth, and the emperor, longing for a daughter, brought her to the palace to raise.

Then, when the true princess was found—Pei Yunxi, who had grown up among the people—she was immediately showered with the palace’s affection.

Mu Yuan Zhi would never forget that day: her imperial father caressed the head of the newly returned real princess, Pei Yunxi, and declared that his only princess had finally come home.

But hadn’t he said she was his only princess? How had everything changed overnight? Why were her father and brothers suddenly no longer her family?

Lost and helpless, she stood in the great hall like a stranger. It was a long time before her father even noticed her, calling her over to comfort her, assuring her she was still his good daughter. Yet, he soon proclaimed to the world that she was but an adopted child—not his real daughter.

Pei Yunxi easily stole away the love of her father and brothers, while Mu Yuan Zhi, accused of jealousy and plotting against the true princess, was stripped of her freedom, locked in Eternal Lane, and sentenced to death for misconduct.

How ironic—her name, Yuan Zhi, meant freedom and nobility, yet she died in disgrace and shame.

Mu Yuan Zhi steadied her breath, ruthlessly suppressing all traces of weakness.

She had died once already. What could be more frightening than death?

This was her first time locked in Eternal Lane. She still had a chance. In this life, she would live for herself!

Suddenly, a sharp voice rang out from outside the lane: “His Highness the Crown Prince has arrived!”

Mu Yuan Zhi looked up to see a tall, imposing figure striding toward her. His dark cloak, embroidered with golden dragons, was rich and heavy, utterly out of place in this bleak prison.

She was momentarily dazed, gazing at his handsome, familiar yet unfamiliar face.

This man, whom she had called Crown Prince Brother for sixteen years, had once crossed mountains and deserts to find a rare herb for her—yet later, for Pei Yunxi, he had driven his sword into her chest.

At this moment, before their estrangement, there was still undisguised concern and pain in his eyes as he saw her bloodstained prison garb.

The storm in Mu Yuan Zhi’s heart quickly settled. All that she had once desperately tried to reclaim—the grievances, the tears—should have ended with her past life. She no longer cared.

“Yuan Zhi, do you admit your fault?” Pei Shangyan asked.

A cold laugh echoed in Mu Yuan Zhi’s heart.

The very same question as in her former life.

He used to call her Little Sister. Now it was Yuan Zhi, to distinguish her from Pei Yunxi—the real little sister.

Seeing her silent, Pei Shangyan frowned slightly, thinking she remained unrepentant. “Yuan Zhi, this time you’ve gone too far—even using a hidden weapon to harm your sister! You’ve always been willful, using such underhanded methods, but this time, how could you be so thoughtless? Do you know she burned with fever for days and nearly died? Yet, even so, her kind heart pleaded for your release as soon as she awoke.”

Underhanded means? Mu Yuan Zhi almost laughed. Her custom-made firepowder weapon had once enabled the imperial army to defeat a force of a hundred thousand with just eight thousand. In times of peace, her weapons had become a mark of disgrace?

“I admit my fault.”

Mu Yuan Zhi’s lips, nearly frozen, parted, her tone cold and distant.

To admit fault, after all, was just a matter of moving one’s lips.

In her previous life, she had refused to wrong herself, refusing to confess to what she hadn’t done. In the end, she was sentenced to this place, made to toil like an animal, hauling waste, scrubbing chamber pots, chopping firewood, washing clothes, beaten if she slowed for even a moment.

Severe chills nearly killed her here.

Even after her release, she bore the stain of that crime, suffering constant reproach.

Now she realized it was her own doing. They were always biased—whether she admitted it or not, what difference did it make?

Freedom and health mattered most. She had to learn to love herself.

Pei Shangyan doubted his ears. Before Yuan Zhi was locked in Eternal Lane, she had begged him in tears, swearing she was innocent.

“So it really was you?” Pei Shangyan was pained. “Then why did you say before that you were wronged?”

“It was indeed me,” Mu Yuan Zhi replied, lowering her eyes, her voice calm.

Pei Shangyan produced an imperial decree. “Very well. Father said that if you admit your fault, this decree will be read, and you’ll be released.”

So that’s how it was, Mu Yuan Zhi thought. In her past life, she simply failed to understand her place.

“Thank you for your grace,” she said, still with that respectful, distant air.

Pei Shangyan drew his sword and deftly cut through the heavy iron chains binding her.

Same man, same sword, same swift, merciless stroke—Mu Yuan Zhi was instantly transported back to her past life and couldn’t help but flinch.

She could still hear her own ragged screams, crying out, “Crown Prince Brother, it hurts so much!”

But the only answer was a blade biting ever deeper into her flesh.

Mu Yuan Zhi tried to stand, but her legs, numb from the cold, gave way. Pei Shangyan strode forward and caught her in his arms.