The mansion stood stark against the morning light, its black and white walls gleaming like fresh ink on parchment. The courtyard was paved with smooth gray stones that glistened after last night's rain. Red pillars rose tall beside intricately carved railings adorned with blooming hibiscus patterns. Water droplets rolled lazily down the wide leaves of banana trees before splashing into the soft earth below.
Inside one of the rooms, an elegant purple incense burner shaped like a mythical beast released wisps of soothing woodsy fragrance. On the four corners of the bed hung silk sachets embroidered with tassels, their bright colors catching the sunlight. Two maids stood near the bedside, fanning gently to cool the person lying there.
"Why hasn't she woken up yet?" muttered Biyu, her voice tinged with worry as she fanned the still figure on the bed. Her green robes rustled softly with every movement. "It's been more than half a shichen! Where is the doctor?"
Another maid nearby nodded anxiously. "Madam Second Wife has kept things under wraps. This isn't just any ordinary illness—it's scandalous for the family."
Biyu glanced at the sleeping girl, her lips pressing tightly together. "If they're trying to corner her, this could ruin her completely," she whispered fiercely. "I need to go check outside—"
Before she could finish, a faint groan came from the bed.
"She's awake!" cried the other maid, rushing forward.
The young woman stirred, rubbing her forehead slowly before sitting up. Her eyes fluttered open, dazed but sharp.
"Biyu…" Ye Qingge murmured weakly.
"I'm here, Miss!" Biyu smiled, taking her hand. "How do you feel? You've slept through an entire day and night. The fever broke hours ago, but we were starting to worry."
Qingge blinked, staring at the two maids in front of her. She remembered them well—or rather, she thought she did. Four loyal maids had once served her: Biyu, Luyu, Baihe, and Shuangjiang. But none survived her previous life.
Biyu handed her a cup of tea. "Drink some water, Miss. You must be thirsty."
Qingge hesitated, gripping the cup tightly. Something felt… off. Was this death's illusion? It all seemed so real.
As Qingge sipped the tea, memories crashed over her like waves. In her past life, these hands weren't so delicate. They'd grown calloused from reviewing ledgers late into the night, scrubbing clothes in the cold palace dungeons, or fighting for survival in foreign lands.
Her mind flashed to Biyu's fate—how she'd sacrificed herself to protect Qingge from humiliation in Qin. Then there was Baihe, who died protecting Princess Qingyi during her marriage journey, and Shuangjiang, killed in the imperial harem while vying for favor. And finally, Luyu—the most beautiful of them all—who became a concubine to curry favor with powerful ministers. Betrayed by jealousy, she was beaten to death by another man's wife.
Tears welled up in Qingge's eyes as she recalled how devastated she'd been when news of Luyu's death reached her. She'd cried herself sick, nearly miscarrying her child.
And yet here Biyu stood now—young, vibrant, alive—as if nothing had happened. Qingge stared at her trembling hands. These weren't hers. Not anymore. Her old hands had been rough, scarred, and worn. But these? Soft, pale, unblemished. A pampered lady's hands.
"This can't be real," Qingge muttered, clutching her chest. "Am I dreaming?"
Biyu frowned, reaching out to touch her forehead. "Miss, are you feeling dizzy? Did the fever return?"
The coolness of Biyu's fingers snapped Qingge back to reality. She grabbed the maid's wrist, startling her. "What year is it?" she demanded hoarsely.
"Year 68 of Mingqi, Miss," Biyu replied hesitantly. "Why? Are you unwell?"
Mingqi Year 68. Qingge froze. That was the year she turned fourteen—the year she met Huang Xuanhao, fell madly in love with him, and begged her father to arrange their marriage. The year everything began spiraling out of control.
She closed her eyes, overwhelmed. Could it be true? Had she really returned to the past?
The Ye household consisted of three branches: the eldest branch led by Ye Chenchuan (Qingge's father), the second branch headed by Ye Guichuan, and the third branch overseen by Ye Wanchuan. After the original matriarch passed away, the current Grand Madam—a stepmother—took charge. Though the brothers appeared united, tensions simmered beneath the surface.
Because her parents were often away leading military campaigns, Qingge grew up under the care of the Grand Madam and her aunts. Or so she thought. In truth, they'd groomed her to become a useless, spoiled daughter—a pawn easily discarded. Every time her parents returned home, they found her even less accomplished than before. It wasn't kindness; it was sabotage.
But this time would be different. This time, Qingge vowed to rewrite her destiny.
Just then, a servant rushed in, breathless. "Miss, Lady Yehua has arrived to see you!"
Qingge stiffened. Yehua—the cunning cousin who'd pushed her into the pond years ago, ruining her reputation. She clenched her fists, determination blazing in her eyes.
"No matter what happens," she whispered to herself, "I won't let history repeat itself."
With renewed resolve, Qingge prepared to face her cousin—and whatever schemes awaited her.