Peering through the window, Cai Ping was stunned, her heart leaping into her throat! No matter how meticulously she had planned, she never expected Shangguan Qian to appear out of nowhere.
Even more shocking was that Shangguan Qian had picked up the fake sheepskin manuscript.
If Shangguan Qian handed the counterfeit manuscript to Zhao Qing, and Zhao Qing discovered the switch, all of Shen Wei’s schemes would crumble.
Cai Ping’s mind raced frantically as she desperately searched for a way out of this predicament.
“Filthy and stinking—better to burn it.” Shangguan Qian wrinkled her nose in disgust, not even bothering to open the aged sheepskin book before tossing it into the nearby brazier.
The winter chill had made braziers a common sight in every room for warmth.
The manuscript landed on the scorching coals, quickly blackening under the intense heat. A foul stench filled the air as the pages curled into ash, crumbling at the slightest touch.
Cai Ping exhaled in relief. Without lifting a finger, Shangguan Qian had destroyed the fake manuscript.
If Zhao Qing ever investigated, the blame would fall on Shangguan Qian—who would ever suspect Shen Wei?
“Miss! You mustn’t take those pearls!” The maidservant paid no mind to the burning manuscript, her eyes red as she tried to stop Shangguan Qian from pocketing the pearls.
Shangguan Qian ignored her, tucking the two pearls into her pouch before striding away without a backward glance.
The maid dared not chase after her, tears streaming down her face in helpless frustration.
Cai Ping stepped inside, taking the maid’s hand in reassurance. “If Zhao Qing demands answers, simply tell the truth—that Lady Shangguan barged in. As servants, how could we ever defy our masters? If she casts you out of the marquis’ estate, come find me. I’ll arrange a new position for you in the capital.”
The maid sniffled and nodded through her sobs.
...
By noon, the marquis’ estate was alive with music and firecrackers as Shangguan Xuan, the Marquis of Zhennan, welcomed the County Princess of Pingyang into his home in grand fashion.
The wedding feast lasted all day, the estate brimming with celebration. As night fell and snowflakes drifted from the sky, the bride Zhao Qing sat on the edge of the crimson bridal bed, unable to suppress her joy.
The lavish chamber was adorned with scarlet double-happiness characters, exquisite candlesticks, and a priceless rosewood table—every inch exuding opulence beyond anything Zhao Qing had ever seen.
“The marquis’ lady.” Her lips curled into an irrepressible smile. No longer was she the lowly herb-gatherer from the outskirts of Liangzhou. Now, she was the esteemed wife of a noble house in the capital.
Wealth and privilege would be hers for life!
And with the weapon blueprints from The Taihua Notes, she could win the emperor’s favor and her husband’s admiration.
Creak—
The door swung open, and Shangguan Xuan stepped in, clad in his red wedding robes. Zhao Qing hastily raised her silk fan to veil her face, calling out with tender sincerity, “My lord, you’ve returned.”
Her voice was soft, tinged with shyness.
Shangguan Xuan reached out, gently lowering the fan. In the glow of the red candles, Zhao Qing’s delicate features were revealed. In a city teeming with beauties, her looks were unremarkable.
But Shangguan Xuan adored her cleverness, her unique courage.
They shared the ceremonial wedding wine.
Clasping her hands, Shangguan Xuan gazed at her affectionately. “A-Qing, I swear I will never betray you.”
Zhao Qing smiled sweetly. “A-Qing believes in you, my lord.”
His throat bobbed as he pulled his beloved wife into an embrace, the two tumbling onto the bed together...
Meanwhile, snow blanketed the mountain paths, obscuring the desolate trails.
Sun Qingmei tightened her robes, her fair face cracked by the biting wind, lips chapped and bleeding.
Leading her horse through the endless white, she pressed on toward distant Liangzhou, unwavering in her resolve.
...
...
The Glazed Pavilion was silent but for the falling snow.
Prince Yan had yet to return, leaving Shen Wei alone in the warm chamber, poring over The Taihua Notes. Since returning from the marquis’ estate that afternoon, she had read the book cover to cover multiple times.
Shen Wei was certain—the author was none other than Princess Taihua, Li Qingxun, the founder of Southern Chu a century ago.
The hastily scribbled notes were the princess’ idle musings while recovering from injuries in a cave. Before her transmigration, she had been a mechanical engineering graduate, meticulously sketching weapon blueprints with annotations in English and Roman numerals, interspersed with simplified Chinese characters.
Even if Zhao Qing had stumbled upon this book, she could only decipher the simplest designs. The English and numerals were entirely beyond her.
Beyond the blueprints, Princess Taihua had also penned a dozen diary entries in a chaotic mix of simplified Chinese and English. The handwriting was so atrocious that Shen Wei had spent hours piecing together just two entries.
[July 5, Rain – Recovering in Cave
Ugh! A hundred middle fingers to the heavens! I wanna go home, damn it—I swear I’ll build a bomb and blow this stupid world to smithereens!
...Though, lately, that bastard Prime Minister Zhang’s looking fine. I’d tap that.]
[July 15, Sunny
For fuck’s sake! I miss takeout, Starbucks, and overtime in the lab! When will this damn foot heal? I wanna go home!
Turns out Zhang He’an’s dad was an imperial astronomer—oh, a fortune-teller’s brat, huh? I asked him to read my fate, and the jerk spouted some cryptic crap like, “A-Xun, destiny is heaven’s will.”
Bored out of my mind. Screw it—I’m bedding him tonight.]
[October 5, Rain
My leg’s almost healed. Zhang He’an plans to send me back to the palace tomorrow. I don’t wanna go! I crave takeout, bubble tea, overtime—I want freedom!
I miss home. God, I’m so lonely…]
“What a pity.” Shen Wei closed the book.
The Taihua Notes held no clues to leaving this world. After founding Southern Chu, Princess Taihua had fallen ill, passing away at thirty-five.
Shen Wei clutched the manuscript, her gaze drifting to the blazing brazier nearby. She held the aged pages over the flames, the heat searing her fingertips.
One release, and the century-old notes would vanish into ash.
In this unfamiliar era, bit by bit, Shen Wei found herself assimilating into its currents.
Too far from home, one forgets their roots. Too long in disguise, one loses themselves.
In the end, Shen Wei couldn’t bring herself to burn the book. With a quiet, aching hope she couldn’t name, she hid it away instead.
Outside, Cai Lian’s voice broke the silence. “My lady, His Highness has returned.”
Shen Wei steadied her breath, slipping into a practiced smile as she stepped out. Night had fallen, snow dusting the carp lanterns overhead as the tall figure of Prince Yan emerged from the white.
His voice was steady. “Weiwei, come inside. It’s cold.”
As always, Shen Wei handed him a warm towel, murmuring sweet nothings before they retreated to the chamber for supper. Amid the winter freeze, they played the part of a loving couple, their affection as natural as the falling snow.
Outside, the world was hushed.
...
...
At the Marquis of Zhennan’s estate, Zhao Qing served tea to Old Madam with perfect decorum the morning after the wedding.
For now, Old Madam seemed satisfied, offering no difficulties. She even entrusted Zhao Qing with the household's management, granting her authority over the estate.
Zhao Qing was brimming with self-satisfaction. With the authority of managing the household now in her hands, she would henceforth be the most esteemed mistress of the Marquis's estate, basking in a life of luxury and privilege.
Her first order of business was to visit Luofang Courtyard to retrieve The Taihua Manuscripts hidden within a crevice in the bricks and move them to the main residence. As long as she possessed The Taihua Manuscripts, her wealth and status would remain secure for the rest of her days.
But when Zhao Qing pulled out the brick from the corner, she found—nothing inside!
