Qiu Che had a long dream.
In the dream, she spent her entire life climbing to the pinnacle of power, eventually becoming the prime minister with influence over the entire empire.
But on the very night she received the imperial edict appointing her to the position, her own father lured her into the backyard and poisoned her, ending her life.
The next day, the prime minister's mansion was engulfed in flames.
Someone carried her cold, stiff corpse from the burning mansion to a secluded wilderness and buried her with care.
… Then, standing before her grave, that person unsheathed their sword and ended their own life.
As the dream ended, Qiu Che saw herself holding half of a comb. The vivid image of blood splattering seemed to pierce through the haze of the dream, landing directly on her face.
Her pupils contracted sharply.
In the next instant, the fragmented scenes of the dream shattered before her eyes like a broken mirror.
A fleeting life, as ephemeral as a mayfly.
Qiu Che jolted awake, gasping for breath. Her surroundings were pitch dark.
Light seeped through the windows, softly illuminating the familiar yet unfamiliar bedroom, silently confirming the truth: she had been reborn.
Yes.
Qiu Che had died.
But now, she was alive again.
From the moment of her death to her rebirth, she had witnessed, as a bystander, the burning of the mansion by her wife, Li Qingwu, followed by her wife's suicide by the sword.
Now, three days had passed since she awakened, returning to ten years prior.
It was the eighteenth year of the Zhenfeng Era.
The same year she became the top scholar, basking in glory.
Qiu Che raised a hand to cover her eyes, her expression weary.
After a long while, she lifted the blanket, got out of bed, and stood before the mirror, examining her youthful eighteen-year-old body.
At eighteen, Qiu Che looked much the same as she would ten years later—her features were striking and beautiful.
A little makeup could transform her into a charming young man, and with her height surpassing most men, her disguise was flawless.
In women's attire, she was dazzling; in men's attire, she was elegant.
Soon, after riding through the streets, this face would become the dream of countless women in the capital.
The only difference from ten years later was her eyes.
The gaze of someone who had risen to great heights and walked on thin ice for years was vastly different from that of a sheltered scholar.
For a moment, Qiu Che felt as if she were looking at her future self through the dim mirror.
As her fingertips touched the mirror, a face suddenly flashed through her mind.
Li Qingwu.
In her previous life, Qiu Che never imagined that after ten turbulent years in the political arena, she would not gain a single genuine heart.
In the end, it was her wife, Li Qingwu—whom she had never truly looked at or touched—who collected her remains, avenged her, and even ended her own life at her grave.
As if in mourning.
In the past three days, Qiu Che had thought countless times about why Li Qingwu would do such a thing. What benefit could it bring her?
The conclusion was always the same:
She loved Qiu Che.
But wasn't their marriage forced by Qiu Che using despicable means at the behest of her father and brother?
Li Qingwu had every reason to resent her, especially after being neglected for ten years.
Rumors even mocked her as a wife who would eventually be discarded.
So why?
She couldn't understand.
And if she couldn't, she decided not to dwell on it.
Lowering her gaze, Qiu Che dressed and called, "Yunyan."
A young maid entered with a basin of water, curtsying. "Second Young Master, you're awake? The imperial examination is soon. Let me help you freshen up."
"...Mm."
It was April 26, the day for the final imperial exam.
As Yunyan served her, Qiu Che occasionally glanced at her, her gaze peculiar.
Yunyan, noticing, blushed nervously. "Second Young Master, is there something on my face?"
Qiu Che smiled faintly, withdrawing her gaze. "No, I just think you look more radiant than usual."
Yunyan's face turned redder, her heart fluttering. "Young Master flatters me."
Qiu Che tossed the towel aside and, with a casual flick of her sleeve, said, "Let's go."
"Go where?" Yunyan asked instinctively, then regretted her boldness.
Fortunately, Qiu Che didn't mind, merely glancing at her. "To the exam."
Skipping her father's and stepmother's greetings, Qiu Che left the mansion.
From her memories, she pieced together the state of the Qiu family ten years ago. They were a declining noble family, burdened with debt.
Her father, a drunkard, cared little for her success. Her brother was a scoundrel, indifferent to her.
Her stepmother despised her and her birth mother, who, as a concubine, was confined to her quarters.
The once-grand mansion was lifeless.
Qiu Che walked alone, contemplating her strategy.
Suddenly, a modest carriage appeared, heading toward the palace. She recognized the driver as Fufeng, an imperial guard under Li Qingwu.
The carriage stopped before her. Fufeng said coldly, "You're heading to the exam?"
"Yes," Qiu Che replied warily.
"My mistress instructed me to offer you a ride."
Though puzzled, Qiu Che accepted, boarding the carriage.
Inside, she silently resolved: in this life, she would not involve Li Qingwu in the Qiu family's mess.
Let her live as the noble and delicate eldest princess she is.
Living a life of peace and happiness might just be the ending she truly deserves.
But just as she was lost in thought, Qiu Che watched in disbelief as the carriage that had passed her turned around leisurely and stopped in front of her.
She: "?"
The driver, a stoic secret guard, said with a straight face, "Are you a candidate heading to the palace exam?"
Qiu Che nodded in confusion. "How did you know that?"
Fufeng glanced at the box in her hands and didn't answer. Instead, he tilted his chin slightly. "My master is kind-hearted and worries you might be late. Get in; we'll take you to the palace gates."
Qiu Che couldn't help but glance at the tightly closed curtains of the carriage, thinking, Is it really my luck to encounter such a good deed?
She cupped her hands in thanks and asked, "Thank you for your generosity. May I know which kind-hearted person is inside? I'll be sure to express my gratitude in person someday."
To disguise herself as a man, she had trained her voice to shift from its natural clear and melodious tone to one that sounded convincingly masculine, without any flaws.
With a fake Adam's apple so realistic it could fool anyone, no one had ever realized she was a woman in all these years.
Fufeng, however, seemed impatient. "Are you getting in or not?"
The carriage remained silent as ever.
Qiu Che expressed her thanks once more and didn't hesitate further. She lifted her robe and got in swiftly.
Strangely enough, the carriage, which had been moving leisurely, picked up speed the moment she boarded.
It traveled steadily and swiftly to an alley not far from the palace gates. Only then did An Yi stop the carriage and say, "Get out."
Qiu Che glanced again at the unmoving curtain of the carriage, thanked them, and left.
Once she had walked far enough and joined the other candidates entering the palace gates, Fufeng finally spoke:
"Your Highness, the person has left."
"Mm," a warm and gentle voice replied from within the carriage, "I know."
A jade-like hand slowly lifted the curtain, revealing a delicate face as radiant as a hibiscus flower. At the corner of her eye was a tear mole that added a touch of allure.
Yet her expression was serene and composed, suppressing the brightness of her beauty with an air of elegance.
Li Qingwu gazed in the direction Qiu Che had gone, then lowered her hand. Looking down at the half-finished embroidered handkerchief in her hand, she said softly, "Let's return to the palace."