Fu Yi's eyes traced the flickering shadows that danced along the bedroom walls, cast by the small oil lamp on the desk. Outside, the muffled sounds of children playing drifted in, mingling with the winter chill. Zhu’s fingers moved deftly, combing his damp hair as he leaned back, his thoughts elsewhere.  “The Young Mistress seems livelier today. When I first saw her so frail, I nearly lost my breath,” Fu Yi said, his voice softened by lingering worry. 

Zhu hesitated, her movements slowing as she pursed her lips. “She was already better by the time you arrived. But that day… she nearly died. It was my fault—I was late, and I thought A’Yue...” She trailed off, her expression darkening at the mere mention of the name.

Fu Yi’s gaze settled on his wife, his eyes heavy with the weight of the past. “Ten years have passed, and yet people are still fickle. The Young Mistress was just three when the General and Madam left. I still remember the General’s farewell—he rode off, but kept looking back, his eyes red and filled with sorrow. Don’t bring up A’Yue again. Her first husband died under the General’s command, and her new husband has ties to the Ge family. It’s impossible for her to truly be devoted to Madam.”

Zhu’s hand tightened around the comb, and she slapped it onto the desk, her voice rising with a mix of frustration and defiance. “A sword has no eyes, Fu Yi. Following others for the promise of a better future is a fool’s game. Madam has always been kind, always generous to the widows and children of soldiers, never once stopping them from remarrying. When rumors came that you’d died in Nanding City, I had the children wear mourning clothes. I even considered remarrying, but I never neglected Madam’s orders! Afraid of death—ha! If you’re afraid, then you should keep your man safe at home, like A’Xiao did. Life might be simpler, but at least your family is intact. No one can have both a bright future and perfect peace.”

Fu Yi’s lips twitched, caught between the urge to respond and the wisdom to remain silent. After Nanding, he had sent word home as soon as he could; it hadn’t been long. He swallowed the comment he wanted to make about Zhu’s plan to remarry—perhaps it would have been more proper to wait at least a year. “Don’t be angry,” he said, changing the subject with a weary smile. “By the way, since I’ve been back, I keep hearing that as the Young Mistress grows, she becomes more unruly. They say she’s quick-tempered, prone to scolding the servants, and impossible to manage. But from what I see, she’s a good child. The kids adore her.”

Zhu resumed combing his hair, a faint snort escaping her lips. “I’ve never set foot in the main house, so I can’t say how she was brought up there. I always thought it was those spiteful women who tainted her behavior. She’s still young, and when Madam returns, she’ll guide her properly. The Young Mistress has a good heart. Since she woke up, she’s been gentle and considerate. I was worried she’d fall into despair, so I asked A’Mei to take her outside for a bit. She was in such high spirits after they saw off the Qiu family’s Eldest Daughter for her marriage.” Fu Yi nodded, pleased by the report. But curiosity nagged at him, and he asked, “Did Old Man Qiu marry off his daughter again?” Every time he came back, it seemed that old Qiu had arranged another wedding. “How many daughters does he have, anyway?”

Zhu’s eyes narrowed as she shot him an exasperated glance. “I told you, it’s the Eldest Daughter. You’re not listening. The Qiu family has two sons and one daughter—she’s the oldest. When you were last here, she had just remarried, and now she’s on her third husband.” Fu Yi shook his head slowly, a hint of disbelief in his expression. “Old Man Qiu’s too lenient with her. It’s one thing for a widow to remarry, but her first husband was a decent man. She keeps leaving one marriage for another just because she fancies someone new. The neighbors are bound to talk.” Zhu allowed a wry smile to tug at her lips. “Her new husband’s well-born and has a gentle nature,” she said, almost teasingly.

Fu Yi glanced at Zhu, then quickly looked away, his pride mingled with a quiet self-assurance. He had always prided himself on being a good husband, unlike the Qiu General, who bent to his wife’s whims. He remembered the day Zhu had admired a performer at General Wan’s estate, praising the man’s strength and appearance. The Qiu General, in a bid to please his wife, had merely raised his cup, smiling indulgently as he remarked, “My wife has good taste. That man may not match me, but he’s the finest among the performers.” General Wan had choked on his wine, unsure whether to laugh or bristle with indignation.

Fu Yi’s eyes flicked to a small wooden letter on the table, brought back hastily upon his return. He pointed at it and asked, “What did Madam write?” He could not read. Zhu cast a glance at the letter, her voice deliberate and measured. “Everything is ready. We’re just waiting for Madam to come back.” Fu Yi nodded, his gaze fixed on the flame that wavered uncertainly. “When will she return?” Zhu answered softly, “In a few days.”

The sun hung high overhead, casting sharp shadows along the stream as the children, tired from their play, began to drift back to their homes. Yu Cai Ling stood near the water, watching as a rural boy approached hesitantly. He lingered, his gaze fixed on her, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. After what felt like an eternity, he hurriedly handed over three plump, lively fish to A’Mei, then dashed away in a flustered retreat. 

A’Mei, her face bright with amusement, called out, “Young Mistress, someone’s taken a liking to me!”  Yu Cai Ling clenched her teeth, eyes narrowing as she turned towards Fu Deng. “A’Deng, haven’t you found a proper mirror grinder yet? The bronze mirror in my room is so dull I can’t see anything clearly.” She sighed in frustration, her desire to glimpse her own reflection more urgent than ever. The boy’s lingering looks had unsettled her, making her wonder about her own appearance—and what had captured his attention. But there was only herself and Fu Deng by the boulder. Surely, the boy wasn’t sneaking glances at Fu Deng… or was he? She shuddered at the thought.

Fu Deng chuckled, his expression warm. “The New Year is coming, and all the craftsmen have gone home to celebrate. It’s not easy to find anyone to work now.” Turning to his sister, he chided lightly, “And what nonsense are you spouting? That fish was meant for the Young Mistress.” He had noticed the boy’s shy glances as well.

Yu Cai Ling fell silent, her steps heavy as she trudged along the rugged country path. This ancient, unforgiving world was a far cry from the comforts she once knew. Even something as basic as a clear reflection was a luxury beyond her reach. The bronze mirror distorted her features, and the water’s reflection was no better, warping her face into an unrecognizable blur. All she knew was that her skin was pale, but beyond that, the details of her appearance remained a mystery. She wondered if the boy’s interest was a sign of some peculiar taste in beauty.

Her thoughts turned to her father, a man whose whims were as fickle as the wind. In his youth, he had fallen for her mother’s intellect, marrying her despite their vast differences in temperament. But as his business prospered, his tastes shifted; he began favoring the beautiful but less clever types, indulging in affairs that nearly drove him to financial ruin. In the end, he wised up and married a determined widow—unyielding, unrefined, but steadfast. Together, they clawed their way back from the brink of disaster.

Yu Cai Ling often resented her father, but she couldn’t deny the legacy he left her—a sharp mind and a knack for survival. Since her arrival in this new world, she had been constantly scheming, plotting her path forward. Holding the fish, she glanced around and sighed. In this harsh era, appearance was everything. In her previous life, a modern woman could rely on education and hard work, but here, a plain face was a heavy burden. What were her options? Train to become a fearsome warrior and rule the mountains like some legendary bandit queen? Even that seemed far-fetched.

Still, she had been lucky so far. She could have easily ended up as a servant or concubine, her life bound to the whims of others. But as she frowned, lost in thought, another idea sparked. Why limit herself to the role of a woman? She could disguise herself as a man, take on the world of officials, merchants, or farmers. Gender could be bent, and in this place, there were surely countless handsome, struggling men who could use saving. She smirked at the thought—why not become the savior they never knew they needed?

The wind bit at her cheeks, sharp and invigorating. When they finally reached home, Yu Cai Ling handed the fish to Zhu, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “We still have some catfish oil left from the past few days. Fry the fish heads until they’re crispy, and use those fresh mushrooms to make a hearty fish soup. A’Mei’s father and brother have come a long way, and nothing beats a nourishing bowl of soup.” Even in this primitive world, where iron pots were still a novelty and stir-frying was a distant dream, the rich blend of oil and water could still yield something comforting.

The room fell into an odd silence as Fu Yi and Fu Deng exchanged glances, but A’Mei and A’Liang cheered at the prospect of their favorite dish. A’Mei clapped her hands with delight. “That fish soup is the best! And the fish tails—let’s fry them up with ginger, pepper, and soy sauce, just like last time.” Zhu chuckled softly, recalling the strange series of events that had led to this newfound culinary enthusiasm. In a village where meals were traditionally steamed, boiled, or roasted, the Young Mistress had been the first to experiment with a richer, oil-based cooking method. A few days ago, after witnessing the villagers slaughter a pig, Yu Cai Ling had brought back a bowl of belly fat and asked Zhu to render it in a hot iron pot. The scent had been so irresistible that it had drawn curious neighbors from miles away. From that moment on, the possibilities seemed endless, each dish more delicious than the last.

Zhu had asked the Young Mistress where she had come up with such an innovative cooking method, but A’Mei was quick to interject with an eager explanation. “When the pig was being slaughtered and the meat divided, a piece of fat accidentally fell onto the edge of a nearby brazier. The iron basin pressed against it, and the fat started to melt, releasing a delicious aroma. That’s when the Young Mistress came up with the idea.” A’Mei’s eyes sparkled as she recounted the story, though she admitted she hadn’t seen it herself—she had been too busy playing with the other children at the time.

Zhu nodded thoughtfully, her smile warm and knowing. “I’ve already used up the last of the pork fat, but yesterday I slaughtered a few chickens and rendered the belly fat. It tasted just as good.” She knew that this method wasn’t entirely new—some people had been collecting dripping grease for cooking before, but no one had thought to use it so deliberately. The result of frying fish in the oil was unexpectedly rich and flavorful, without a trace of the usual fishy smell. It was a simple technique, yet it demanded a lot of firewood and meat, making it a luxury reserved for wealthier families.

As she pondered this, Zhu’s admiration for the Young Mistress grew. She saw Yu Cai Ling’s intelligence as a sign of great potential, believing the girl would one day be a fine bride. The malicious rumors that circulated outside—the whispers meant to tarnish Madam’s good name—were surely nothing more than the spiteful fabrications of envious women.

Zhu, always sharp and perceptive, remained loyal to the family, her mind clouded only by her own biases and assumptions. If not for her unwavering faith in the Young Mistress, she might have noticed that something about Yu Cai Ling was different, something subtly amiss.

Yu Cai Ling, overhearing their conversation, felt a pang of surprise. She didn’t think of the ancient people as ignorant; on the contrary, they were resourceful in ways that rivaled her own modern insights. She had shown Zhu how to render oil just once, and Zhu had quickly grasped the technique, expanding it to create butter, chicken oil, and duck oil. She even began experimenting, adding ginger, pepper, cornel, and other spices to create preservable oils like sesame and spicy oil. It was a level of cleverness and adaptability that Yu Cai Ling admired deeply. If not for Zhu’s quick wit, Yu Cai Ling might have interrogated A’Mei relentlessly about every detail of her body’s age, the ruling dynasty, and her lineage stretching back eight generations.

Zhu’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “I’ve just steamed the rice, poured over it with soy sauce and meat broth, and served it with fish soup. Young Mistress, please have some more.” Her gaze softened, eyes filled with a maternal kindness that could have melted the coldest heart.

Meals were simple, often consisting of mixed rice or a blend of rice and vegetables, topped with a savory stew of meat or greens. Wealthier households might include grilled fish or small side dishes. Yu Cai Ling already appreciated Zhu’s cooking, so she adopted a shy smile, bowed her head modestly, and went to wash up for dinner.

Dinner was a feast of delicate flavors—a blend of tangy sauces and meat broths absorbed by the rice, and the mushroom and fish soup was light yet deeply satisfying. Even Fu Yi and Fu Deng found their appetites insatiable, eating heartily alongside the children. Normally, people only ate two meals a day, but since Yu Cai Ling was recovering from a serious illness, Zhu insisted on feeding her five times a day, much to the delight of A’Mei and A’Liang, who shared in the bounty.

After dinner, Yu Cai Ling sat by the warm stove, peeling a sweet orange and listening to A’Mei chatter away about the local gossip. For the first time in a while, she found herself at peace. These quiet moments, with their simple comforts, made the strange new world feel bearable. Perhaps, she mused, she could endure this punishment a little longer.

But the tranquility shattered when Zhu spoke, her voice dropping like a stone in a pond. “Tomorrow, someone from the main house will come to take the Young Mistress back.” The words felt like a douse of cold water, leaving Yu Cai Ling momentarily stunned, her mind reeling as she struggled to process the news. Yu Cai Ling knew that how she responded now could shape her fate. If she cried out, lamenting, “I miss my father and mother!” an outspoken person might seize the chance to recount every detail of her parents’ lives—from their first meeting, to their marriage, to the day they left their daughter behind. But Zhu was a reserved soul. If pressed, she would either bow her head in silence, or offer nothing more than a solemn sigh and a quiet, “I know.”

If Yu Cai Ling played the part of an innocent child and asked, “Zhu, do you know what kind of people my parents are?” Zhu’s response would be as guarded as ever. “How dare we, as servants, speak of the Master’s affairs?” she would say, her tone respectful but firm, and then offer nothing more. In truth, Yu Cai Ling wasn’t even certain whether the parents of this body were still alive.

Yu Cai Ling had been trying to pry information from Zhu for days, each attempt carefully veiled in subtlety. She dared not ask outright who wielded power at the main house, who oversaw her daily life, or what her parents’ current situation was. Such questions would immediately raise suspicion in anyone clever enough to recognize their implications, and Zhu, with her sharp instincts, was the last person Yu Cai Ling wanted to alarm.

Zhu watched Yu Cai Ling’s forlorn expression and felt a pang of sympathy. Torn between her loyalty to the young mistress and her duty to her Madam, who had specifically warned her to keep quiet, Zhu leaned closer and whispered, “Don’t be afraid, Young Mistress. Let’s calm down—you can do whatever you like tonight.”

Yu Cai Ling looked up at Zhu, weighing her options. She knew she needed to press further, but her voice carried a pitiful tone as she sighed, “Zhu, did I really make such a big mistake?” The question was expertly framed, innocent enough not to trigger suspicion.  Zhu’s indignation flared immediately. “What’s wrong with the Young Mistress? You didn’t kill anyone, set fire to anything, or steal or take anything by force.” Yu Cai Ling felt a surge of relief. At least it wasn’t a criminal case. Civil matters, especially involving minors, could only go so far in punishment. She took a steadying breath and asked, “Then… why am I being punished so harshly?”

“Those are not good people! To bully the Young Mistress…” Zhu’s anger boiled over, but she caught herself and exhaled sharply, choosing her words carefully. “Don’t worry, Young Mistress. They dare not be presumptuous with you.”

Yu Cai Ling’s mind churned. Could it be that her parents were truly gone? The implications were chilling, and Zhu’s words hinted at a deeper truth, but Yu Cai Ling sensed she couldn’t push further without raising alarms. She hesitated before softly murmuring, “I’m afraid I might die if I go back.”  Zhu’s thoughts flashed back to the sight of the Young Mistress, frail and on the brink of death just ten days ago. She squeezed Yu Cai Ling’s hands tightly and vowed, “This servant swears on her life that no one will dare harm the Young Mistress.” Zhu’s voice wavered slightly, revealing just a hint of the truth she could not fully speak.

Yu Cai Ling felt a peculiar sensation stir within her—a mix of fear, uncertainty, and an odd flicker of hope.

That afternoon, the Zhu family bustled outside, their clanging noises echoing through the courtyard as they prepared for the impending departure. That night, Yu Cai Ling found rare comfort in a deep, undisturbed sleep. But when she awoke the next morning, she was met with an unsettling sight—the courtyard had transformed overnight. All the warmth and care of the previous days had vanished. The everyday necessities, the familiar jars and bottles of sauces and salt on the stove, were gone. The space felt empty, cold, and desolate. Most unsettling of all was that Fu Yi and his son had left before dawn, their departure shrouded in silence.

As the day wore on, the wait for the main house’s representatives stretched unbearably long. It wasn’t until the afternoon, just as Yu Cai Ling was drifting into another fitful sleep, that she heard the distant clatter of two carriages approaching, their arrival delayed far beyond reason. Yu Cai Ling’s frustration simmered as she calculated the journey—it was barely half a day’s ride from the main house to their location. If they had left at dawn, they would have arrived well before noon. The delay was deliberate, a testament to the laziness and disrespect of the servants of the despicable woman who had sent them. They hadn’t even bothered to set out until the sun was well up, a clear sign of their disdain.

Yu Cai Ling was unceremoniously pulled into the carriage, her mind racing with questions she had hoped to ask but finding no chance to do so away from prying eyes. A’Mei and A’Liang clung to her, their reluctance to part evident in their tearful goodbyes.

Inside the carriage, brocade and embroidery were piled in abundance, and a small stove provided warmth against the cold. However, the comfort ended there; the ancient carriage, devoid of any shock absorption, rattled and jolted with every bump in the road. Within moments, Yu Cai Ling was wide awake, her senses sharpened by the constant jarring. From the moment she had climbed aboard, her ears were assaulted by a piercing, nagging voice—a woman who prattled on about Yu Cai Ling’s lack of ladylike behavior, her rebelliousness, and how her Madam had struggled to cultivate her manners.

Yu Cai Ling glanced up, her eyes narrowing as they settled on the scrawny figure of Supervisor Li. Zhu had briefly introduced the woman, but Yu Cai Ling didn’t need an introduction to know she disliked her. Supervisor Li’s disdainful glare confirmed the feeling was mutual. 

The woman was dressed in a dark blue robe cinched at the waist with a crimson brocade belt, her appearance cluttered with an excessive display of gold and silver jewelry. Unlike Zhu’s modest round bun, Supervisor Li’s hair was styled in three large buns, two of which hung at her temples like crescents, while the third jutted atop her head like a pointed crown, held together with three thick golden hairpins resembling incense sticks. Her face was caked in heavy makeup, and Yu Cai Ling couldn’t help but silently critique the era’s questionable beauty standards, wondering again about her own appearance.

“Did Fourth Young Lady hear what I just said?” Supervisor Li’s voice cut through the air, sharper than before.

Yu Cai Ling felt her patience wearing thin. She was not one to suffer fools lightly. After her parents’ messy divorce during her childhood, she had dreamed of becoming someone tough and unyielding, like Sister 13 from *Young and Dangerous*. Instead, life had dragged her down the path of college and good citizenship, far from the rebellious figure she once admired.

“I didn’t hear you clearly,” Yu Cai Ling replied coolly, adjusting the wide sleeves of her robe with deliberate calm.

Supervisor Li’s expression twisted with frustration. She had assumed that after enduring days of hardship in the countryside, Yu Cai Ling would be humbled, perhaps even docile. But the girl’s defiance had only hardened. Suppressing her irritation, Supervisor Li leaned forward, her tone insistent. “I said, Madam is lenient and has chosen to forgive the Fourth Young Lady’s mistakes. When you return, you must obediently follow Madam’s guidance.” Yu Cai Ling’s gaze hardened, her instincts flaring. She had always lived by a simple code: be kind to those who treat you well and show no mercy to those who don’t. She had no intention of swallowing her pride in this miserable world. If things went awry, she’d just consider death a ticket to another life.

“So many Madams,” Yu Cai Ling sneered, her voice laced with contempt. “Which one are you talking about?” The venom in her tone was unmistakable. She might as well have spat out a curse, cursing the woman’s ancestors in the crudest way she knew how.

“Madam is your Aunt!” Supervisor Li’s voice rose in exasperation. “You don’t even recognize your own Aunt?”

“Oh, I know who she is,” Yu Cai Ling responded coldly, her smile as thin and sharp as a blade. “She’s Uncle’s old Mother.”

"You, you…” Supervisor Li sputtered, her face flushing with rage as she pointed a trembling finger at Yu Cai Ling. “Do you even understand what it means to be filial? To show gentleness and respect? If you continue to behave so disgracefully, do you still wish to avoid punishment?”

Supervisor Li found herself unnerved. Yu Cai Ling was someone she had dismissed since childhood, a girl who bullied the weak and feared the strong. She was domineering with servants but crumbled before true authority. Every time she was severely punished by her Madam, she would return more compliant, and Supervisor Li’s words had always managed to tame her. Until now.

“I was seriously ill and nearly died,” Yu Cai Ling said, her voice steady as she lifted her eyebrows, defiance gleaming in her eyes. “I’ve come to terms with who I am and how I behave. If you think you can make things difficult for me, think again. If you have any sense, stay away from me, or I’ll get off this carriage right now and never come back.”

The past ten days had been anything but wasted. Every day, Yu Cai Ling ventured out to observe the rural customs, immersing herself in the daily lives of women and children. She listened intently to their stories, absorbing every detail. The lower classes mirrored the behaviors of the upper echelon, and the divide between them wasn’t as vast as she’d imagined. This region, where the private estates of several affluent families converged, was rife with tales of scandal and intrigue. In just a few short days, she had already heard of three divorces and four remarriages across various households, not to mention the vicious quarrels between newlyweds. The local customs were rough, almost wild, and the rules of etiquette and law were far looser than what she had expected from ancient times.

Supervisor Li, seeing the defiance in Yu Cai Ling’s eyes, quickly shifted tactics. She leaned on her authority as an elder, raising her voice to a shrill pitch. “Your parents don’t care about you anymore! Your Aunt has been raising you for ten years, day and night. And look at you now—so shameless!”

Yu Cai Ling’s mind spun at the words. Her first thought was a revelation: the parents of this body weren’t dead. The second was a question that hit too close to home—had this body, too, been abandoned by parents who divorced while she was young?

Yu Cai Ling’s own parents had been the first in her town to divorce after the reforms. Though divorces became more common later, at the time, their split had sparked unprecedented gossip. Even as a kindergartner, Yu Cai Ling had borne the brunt of the town’s relentless scrutiny and judgment. Instead of cowering under the weight of public opinion, she had developed a devil-may-care attitude, a resilience that hardened her heart and thickened her skin.

Without warning, Yu Cai Ling yanked the hairpin from her hair, exposing the sharp edge. She popped open the small cover of her hand warmer, rolled up her sleeves, and slammed her palm down on the desk with a resounding crack. Her voice was fierce, laced with the rebellious spirit she’d honed over years of defiance. “Don’t think I won’t shove this in your face, you wretch!”

End of chapter 2