Chapter 2

“Lady Shi? What’s wrong with you?”

Peach Blossom saw Shi Lingyao’s pale face, her slender body trembling like the willow by the river at the village’s edge—so fragile that it wouldn’t take much effort to break her; a mere breeze could snap her in two.

Having only just met, Sister Peach Blossom had already found her to be a warm-hearted soul.

Moreover, no one would joke by exaggerating the passage of time, would they?

Shi Lingyao struggled to steady her mind and shook her head. “Perhaps the wind was too strong just now; my head aches a little.”

Seeing her unhealthy pallor, Peach Blossom nodded, believing her.

Noblewomen were always a bit delicate.

At that moment, her husband, Fang Futou, was still working in the fields, and their son Gou Dan had wandered off somewhere unknown. Peach Blossom led Shi Lingyao back home. Noticing a fresh pile of chicken droppings not far off, she felt a little embarrassed and said, “This farmhouse is humble, Lady Shi; please don’t mind.”

Shi Lingyao had no mood to be picky; besides, it was already generous of them to help her, and she had no other options.

Peach Blossom swiftly laid out the cleaned bedding. Seeing Shi Lingyao linger at the doorway, her radiant beauty seemed to illuminate the modest room, making it appear brighter by comparison.

As the village’s old scholar might say, it was... um... rustic?

Peach Blossom silently chided herself, knowing she was illiterate and foolishly thought herself a literary star after exchanging a few words with a noblewoman from Bianjing.

After tidying the bed, she smiled at Shi Lingyao and said, “Please come in and sit, Lady Shi. This room used to belong to my eldest daughter, Da Ya. She’s gone to the town to help her aunt sell breakfast and isn’t home. The bedding is freshly washed and clean, so please feel at ease.”

Shi Lingyao gave a slight nod and thanked her.

Seeing her exhaustion, Peach Blossom said no more but promised to bring her food soon, then closed the door and busied herself hiding the pure gold lotus bracelet Shi Lingyao had given her earlier.

Shi Lingyao sat on the bed, lost in thought. The farmhouse bed was certainly no match for the tall, soft beds she was used to. After giving birth to twins, Xie Zongwei rarely shared her bed. The sturdy, spacious canopy bed in their room allowed her to sleep however she liked—how comfortable it had been.

But recalling the past only made Shi Lingyao painfully aware that she could never return to those times.

Ten years ago, the fall from the cliff had inexplicably thrown her forward a decade.

To everyone else, she had disappeared for ten years; in truth, she had been presumed dead for a decade.

How heartbroken must her mother and siblings be? Her twins had lost their mother while still so young.

And Xie Zongwei...

Shi Lingyao silently repeated his name twice, then realized worrying about him was pointless.

They were wed by arrangement, a marriage of convenience, and their three years together had been cold and distant.

She believed that Xie Zongwei’s quiet mourning upon hearing of her ‘death’ was because she was his first wife and the mother of his twins.

Beyond that... probably nothing else.

She bit her fingers, a bad habit since childhood whenever faced with deep sorrow.

Knowing only her family would grieve for her while Xie Zongwei had long moved on made her sad.

...Anyway, he never loved her.

He would probably rise high in his official career, remarry a beautiful wife, and keep adding half-siblings to the twins—fifteen or sixteen more.

A single tear slipped down, soaking her pale green gown embroidered with quiet lilies.

If that was the case, what was she to do when she returned? Share Xie Zongwei, once wholly hers, with another wife?

The thought of dividing him, once hers alone, among others tightened her chest with bitterness.

Xie Zongwei, you bastard!

Wiping the lingering tears from her eyes, Shi Lingyao made up her mind.

She must get into Bianjing City!

Though she couldn’t enter without a talisman for now, she could ask Peach Blossom’s husband to deliver a message to her mother and family at the Shi residence.

Her mother loved her dearly; seeing her ‘resurrected’ would surely bring joy beyond surprise, wouldn’t it?

Shi Lingyao searched her memories for reassurance but found none.

Would the ten years between her and her loved ones have dulled what was once deep affection?

Ten years was an eternity; would those she once knew now see her as a stranger?

Her heart tightened with panic and confusion at the realization that she had somehow landed ten years in the future.

She collapsed onto the bed, closing her eyes weakly.

...

Fang Futou finished his day’s labor and returned home. Usually taciturn, he went first to fetch a bowl of water to drink but was stopped by his wife.

Surprised, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Peach Blossom handed him a coarse ceramic bowl filled with water. Seeing it, he thought she had kindly boiled fresh water for him and smiled broadly.

After drinking the large bowl, he clicked his tongue. “Red Matchmaker, why does the water taste so sweet today? Did you prepare it specially for me?”

Caught off guard by his words, Peach Blossom blushed and teased, “It’s sweet because I put a whole spoonful of white sugar in it!”

Emphasizing ‘a whole spoonful,’ Fang Futou knew how hard she worked to save money for a brick house and widened his eyes in exaggerated shock. “What, is life unbearable?”

Her laughter lightened the room. Leaning close to whisper, she shared what had happened today with delight:

“I’ve checked—it really is gold! Husband, with this gold bracelet, you won’t have to work so hard, and Da Ya won’t need to help her aunt at the stall anymore. Our whole family can live in a new brick house!”

Seeing the joy almost spilling from her eyes, Fang Futou nodded eagerly, setting down his bowl. “I’ll go borrow the donkey cart from Second Uncle right now!”

Watching her husband’s rare display of happiness, Peach Blossom wiped her eyes and quickly began preparing the meal.

She took down a string of cured meat from the eaves, meant to be saved for Da Ya’s ninth birthday, and picked garlic sprouts, wild onions, and other greens from the garden, determined to nourish their family’s ‘goddess of wealth.’

Shi Lingyao was awakened by the fragrant aromas.

Waking in the cramped, dim room, she felt disoriented, blinking as memories returned, then sighed and lowered her gaze.

If only this were a dream.

She should be on the way home after admiring the peach blossoms, pondering what gifts to prepare for her twins, and...

Now, thinking of such impossible things only heightened her despair.

She inhaled deeply of the rich, earthly scents that made her feel alive once more.

A soft knock came at the door. Shi Lingyao quickly called, “Please come in.”

The wooden door creaked open, and a small head peeked inside.

Gou Dan looked at the beautiful woman on the bed, sniffed, and obediently said, “Lady Shi, my mother sent me to call you to eat.”

Shi Lingyao smiled at the little rascal and nodded, her voice clear and sweet like a yellow oriole fluttering through the woods.

She refused to drown in melancholy and suffocate herself.

Since she was back, she would live well.

“Coming!”

Shi Lingyao resolved to eat well to gain strength to see her mother—and her twins.

Father need not matter; she must see her sons.

She recalled how, not long ago, the twins were smaller than this little rascal, and now, in the blink of an eye, they had grown into twelve-year-old boys.

She blinked, wondering if they had grown taller than her.

...

As dusk fell over Bianjing, the city’s lights began to glow.

The imperial capital revealed its most dazzling side at night, red silk banners fluttering, elegant streets bathed in moonlight and mist. Even the common folk, used to this splendor, could not help but feel proud.

To live in such a prosperous and wealthy dynasty was truly a blessing.

A green-canopied carriage quietly passed through the bustling streets.

The attendant guards didn’t understand why their master, a man who preferred quiet, always made the coachman take a detour around Chunsha Street before returning home.

This habit had lasted for ten years.

The carriage stopped slowly before a serene, ancient mansion. Two guards stood at attention as a slender hand lifted the indigo curtain, revealing a handsome face, cool and distant.

His features were refined and elegant, his attire embroidered with the nine dragon patterns, a dark jade pendant hanging at his waist with long silk tassels. Rather than appearing heavy, the ensemble accentuated his tall, upright bearing like a steadfast pine.

The servants bowed silently upon seeing their lord return.

Xie Zongwei lowered his weary gaze and said coldly to Uncle Zhong, the steward, “Send Junting to my study.”

Xie Junting, the second young master of the household, was twelve years old. Unlike his elder brother, Xie Junyan, praised by contemporary scholars as a young man of promise, Junting was stubborn and fiery, often causing trouble.

Uncle Zhong hesitated. “Young master, the second young master is currently paying respects to the Grand Matriarch. This...”

The Grand Matriarch doted on the twins, who had lost their mother young, to the point that even Xie Zongwei, her own son, had to yield before them.

Uncle Zhong’s words delicately implied that the Grand Matriarch would not allow him to reprimand her grandsons.

“Go fetch him yourself.”

Xie Zongwei’s brow furrowed faintly as he glanced at Uncle Zhong, who hurriedly nodded in agreement.

Only after stepping out of sight did Uncle Zhong rub the back of his neck, feeling a chill.

Though Xie Zongwei intended to speak with his son, many official duties still awaited him once in the study.

Xie Junting stomped into the room deliberately but failed to rouse even the slightest reaction from his stoic father.

After a moment, Xie Zongwei set down his brush on a bronze brush rest shaped like Mount Fushan and looked up at the defiant yet tender-faced youth. His tone carried a hint of helplessness: “Speak. Why did you fight with the son of the Left Minister of the Ministry of Personnel?”

A fight?

Xie Junting sneered disdainfully. “I clearly beat him without him landing a single blow.”

Xie Zongwei’s gaze remained calm. “Are you proud of that?”

Xie Junting said nothing but clenched his fists tightly at his sides.

He was always like this—no matter what mistake he made, his father would only assume this haughty, superior demeanor, neither angry nor displaying any other emotion...

...As if he were utterly insignificant.

Gritting his teeth, Xie Junting whispered, “The Left Minister’s wife wants to arrange a marriage for you. I don’t hit women, but can’t I beat her son?”

An arranged marriage.

Xie Zongwei lowered his eyes, a shadow passing through them. His pupils were dark, and Junting, so shallow and impulsive, didn’t notice the pain flickering within.

“Junting, this isn’t your concern.”

Junting suddenly raised his head to meet those perpetually cold, indifferent eyes.

“Are you really going to remarry?”