"Hey, wake up... Is she dead? Why don’t you check her breathing?"
"Qin Ji, you’re always egging me on to do such filthy things. I won’t do it."
"I heard the other day that the Prefect brought back a group of Hu dancers from the Northern Governor. Those Hu women are stunningly beautiful, with snow-white skin and exotic attire—this girl matches the description. Could she be one of them?"
"Probably not. I’ve seen a few Hu dancers from afar, and their hair wasn’t pure black. Anyway, whether she’s a Hu dancer or not, we shouldn’t meddle. The estate’s been bustling with cleaning these past few days—must mean an important guest is coming. Maybe she’s already here, and this girl was discarded after being played to death by some noble. She was weak—just bad luck."
Qin Ji lowered her gaze at the woman lying half-submerged at the edge of the pond and fell silent.
The woman’s thick, unbound black hair spilled over her face, revealing only the graceful curve of her jaw. She lay face-down on the pond’s edge, her ink-dark tresses fanning out, while the hem of her ankle-length skirt floated in the water, exposing a slender, pale calf.
She was motionless, like the most vibrant lotus blooming by the pond.
The dancer lifted her eyes. "Let’s go. No need to bother with this ‘beautiful corpse.’ Someone will come to deal with it later."
In these times, even commoners with their own households were as worthless as weeds—let alone concubines who could be traded like gifts.
A noble playing a woman to death? So what if she died?
"Steward Sun has been harping on us not to slack in our performances, or we’ll face consequences. Given his urgency, I’d say the guest is no ordinary figure."
"Prefect Jiang is one of the most powerful men in Nankang Commandery. For him to be this tense, the visitor must outrank him."
"I hope it’s someone truly grand. Even the scraps from their fingers could feed us for ages—not to mention if one of us catches their eye..."
The two dancers chatted as they walked away, completely missing the slight twitch of the "beautiful corpse’s" fingers.
Dai Li felt as though she were floating among clouds until voices became threads, pulling her downward.
She heard people speaking.
At first, the words were distant and muffled, but gradually they sharpened—though they still felt unreal.
Governor? Hu dancers? Nankang Commandery?
As the voices faded, the threads yanked sharply, slamming her drifting consciousness back into her body. The surreal weightlessness solidified into reality.
A chill seeped into her bones. Groggily, Dai Li crawled out of the pond and looked around.
Birdsong mingled with distant chatter. Before her stood artificial hills, exotic flowers, and a vast pond dotted with lotus blooms, spanned by a winding pavilion bridge.
Everything was utterly unfamiliar, like a bizarre dream.
Dai Li pinched her palm and whispered in disbelief, "How...?"
Three years ago, after her husband died in a plane crash, she had raised their son alone, sending him from kindergarten to elementary school.
She remembered the day her son died—the sky had been heavy with dark clouds, threatening to collapse, though it hadn’t rained at first. She’d walked the little boy, his red scarf tied neatly, to the school bus and handed him to the teacher, promising as always, "Mom will wait for you at home."
Soon after the bus left, the downpour came, hammering the earth like it meant to shatter it. A strange unease had prickled at her, but she’d brushed it off—until news came of the bus plunging from the river-crossing bridge.
The bright red scarf remained vivid, but its young owner would never return. When Dai Li jumped from that bridge, she’d felt only relief. She would follow the strange dreams to reunite with Zhou Zhou.
The sky was too dark, and you got lost. Mom couldn’t wait for you to come home, so she went to find you.
She’d thought it was the end. Yet now, the surreal surroundings and the sharp pain in her palm told her this dreamlike world was real.
Was there truly another world beneath the river?
Or could the dead carry their memories and bodies elsewhere?
Dai Li had no answers.
But a thought swept through her like a storm, like a spring rain reviving all that was withered—
If she could wake here, maybe her child could too. Those strange, recurring dreams might have been omens after all.
My son must be here!
The possibility sent a shiver through her, a surge of determination straightening her spine and piecing her shattered mind back together.
A breeze brushed her damp skin, and she sneezed. The pond’s chill had seeped into her bones. Shivering, she staggered to her feet. Her limbs were stiff, but her foggy mind cleared slightly.
Had those voices been real? If so, her situation was dire...
Hu dancers, performances, guests, nobles.
They hadn’t been frightened by a "corpse," only startled and annoyed. Were they unafraid of death, or was it just commonplace?
Dai Li suspected the latter.
That was a bad sign. If even delicate performers could dismiss a body so casually, what of guards or servants?
This might be a ruthless era.
Her shoes and the lower half of her dress were soaked. Dai Li wrung out the skirt and stomped her feet. In her original world, it had been summer—she’d worn emerald-green lace-up sandals with leather soles. Now water squelched out with each step.
"I need to change clothes. This outfit stands out too much." She glanced down.
The skirt was fine, long enough to cover her ankles, but her short-sleeved blouse was undeniably modern—not even close to the "new Chinese" style.
Recalling the direction the two women had gone, Dai Li reasoned they’d returned to practice. She could head toward the women’s quarters.
The garden was enormous, clearly frequented by the estate’s ladies—along the path, she spotted an apricot-colored handkerchief fluttering on a potted plant.
Dai Li’s eyes lit up. She snatched the cloth and secured it over her face with two black hairpins.
It wasn’t perfect, but it would do.
After a moment’s thought, she smudged dirt on her forehead. Now she looked like a dancer who’d fallen into the pond, too embarrassed to show her face.
Disguise complete, she pressed on. Her plan was sound, but as she left the garden, she realized she’d underestimated the estate’s scale.
The garden connected to a transitional courtyard with four arched gateways—one behind her where she stood, and three others ahead, to the left, and to the right, each shaped like a crescent moon.
Dai Li frowned and immediately dismissed the forward arch, focusing only on the left and right paths. Common sense dictated that gardens were typically situated at the rear of estates, so proceeding straight ahead would likely lead to the reception hall.
Left or right?
In ancient times, the precedence of left or right was not fixed. For instance, the Western Han dynasty revered the right, while the Qin dynasty and Eastern Han favored the left. Moreover, determining left or right required a point of reference—something she lacked.
Dai Li took a deep breath.
Fine, she’d go right.
Pavilions, winding corridors, and eaves soaring like beaks—the further she walked, the more astonished she became. This estate was far more opulent than she had imagined, suggesting its owner was not merely wealthy but also of noble standing.
Whether by luck or because the household was preoccupied with other matters, she encountered no one as she traversed two long corridors.
A stroke of fortune.
After walking further, she arrived at the entrance of a pavilion courtyard. The buildings she had seen thus far were grand, and this was no exception. Dai Li couldn’t determine whether this was the women’s quarters.
A breeze brushed past, lifting the hem of her damp skirt against her calves. Pressing her lips together, she stepped inside.
Before entering, she had braced herself to encounter others and prepared an excuse. Yet, to her surprise, the vast, elegant courtyard was eerily silent—save for a few birds chirping, there was no other sound.
Dai Li scanned her surroundings again. "No one? Something feels off..."
But at this point, she had no choice. The absence of people suited her just fine. She quickly crossed the pavilion’s front courtyard.
The courtyard appeared to be a single-section estate. Beyond the front courtyard, low buildings flanked both sides, framing the central main hall.
Dai Li bypassed the main hall and headed toward the right-side building. The door was unlocked, and with a gentle push, a faint creak revealed the interior.
Inside, a square table stood in the center, paintings adorned the walls, and a half-height vase in the corner held vibrant fresh flowers. A beaded curtain draped over a small arched doorway leading to the inner chamber. The air carried a pleasant fragrance, faintly floral.
This was undoubtedly a meticulously arranged residence.
Silence stretched, the birdsong outside now muffled. Dai Li quietly closed the door and ventured further inside. The inner chamber was a sleeping area, and given the care taken with the outer furnishings, she suspected spare clothing might be stored here.
The clothing chests were easy to locate. She opened them all, only to find robes in shades of gray, black, and blue—straight or curved hemlines, accompanied by headwear, belts adorned with jade pendants, and even boots and socks.
From head to toe, nothing was overlooked—but every item was men’s attire.
Dai Li’s delicate brows furrowed as she hesitated.
The clothes were clean, but if she were caught wearing men’s garments, it would be an unmistakable sign of her suspicious identity.
With distinguished guests arriving at the estate, an unknown figure appearing at this critical moment would at the very least warrant her arrest.
Just as she wavered, she suddenly heard voices outside.
Footsteps, chatter—not just one or two people, but what sounded like a group approaching.
"My lord, the carriages and luggage have been arranged in the neighboring courtyard. Both this residence and the adjacent one were prepared by my elder brother for your stay. You and your retinue have traveled far—please rest here. Servants will arrive shortly for your convenience, though you may dismiss them if they displease you. As for your Xuanxiao Cavalry stationed outside the city, my brother has dispatched provisions, including a hundred sheep, to ensure your soldiers are well-fed and rested. The evening banquet is set for the end of the Shen hour. My brother and I will await your esteemed presence in the main hall." The speaker paused, as if feeling his words insufficient, then added, "Should there be any oversight in our hospitality, we humbly ask for your guidance."
His tone bordered on obsequious, sending a chill down Dai Li’s spine—not only because of the approaching crowd but also due to the title used.
Straight and curved robes were attire from the Qin and Han dynasties, and this era followed the twenty-rank nobility system, with the highest rank being "Liehou" (Marquis). However, not all marquises were addressed as "Junhou" (Lord Marquis)—only those with monumental achievements or those who had risen to the position of chancellor merited the title.
It was then that Dai Li realized why this lavishly decorated courtyard was empty.
The household had cleared the premises to welcome their esteemed guest, ensuring no unnecessary personnel remained.
As for whether servants would be retained, that was entirely up to the guest. Given the absence of any attendants, Prefect Jiang likely assumed the lord would decline his offer.
"Prefect Jiang has gone to great lengths. Please convey my gratitude to him," a deep male voice replied with practiced courtesy, his laughter ambiguous. "Servants won’t be necessary. I’ve grown unaccustomed to being waited on during my travels."
Jiang Chongjiang nodded hastily. The smile on the towering man’s lips did nothing to ease the tension coiled in his chest. He only wished to fulfill his elder brother’s task and leave as swiftly as possible.
This man was no Dong Zhou, the chancellor who had clawed his way to power through political maneuvering in Chang’an.
No, this man had earned his highest rank through sheer military prowess.
The northern territories had once been plagued by chaos—Xiongnu, Xianbei, Wuhuan, and other barbarians descended like specters in the night. The northern reaches of Youzhou and Bingzhou had been dismissed by rulers as "chicken ribs."
Chicken ribs—tasteless when eaten, yet a pity to discard. The land had been so barren that even the greediest mosquitoes could scarcely draw blood from it.
Yet who could have foreseen that such a desolate wasteland would nurture the fiercest of tigers? With jaws agape, this tiger had devoured the northern demons, his robust warhorses fueling the growth of his Xuanxiao Cavalry and laying the foundation for his forceful "provisional" takeover of Bingzhou a year prior.
Without exaggeration, much of the northern frontier now bore the surname "Qin"—his Qin, Qin Shaozong’s Qin.
A man of such ruthless ambition and iron-fisted methods was someone Jiang Chongjiang, who preferred a life of leisure, kept at a respectful distance. After exchanging a few more pleasantries to conclude the interaction, Jiang Chongjiang departed with his entourage.
Dai Li listened as the footsteps faded, but her tension didn’t ease—moments later, voices sounded again outside.
"Jiang Chonghai is quite the smooth talker. Not a fool, it seems," someone remarked with a chuckle.
"His family only rose to prominence in his father’s generation. For Jiang Chonghai to become a leader in Nankang Commandery, he must have some skill."
Dai Li’s nerves tightened. These men were clearly entering the courtyard, and from their conversation, there were at least three of them. The leader would undoubtedly take the main hall, leaving the other two to occupy the side chambers.
Her room would soon have an occupant.
Her gaze dropped to the men’s robes in her hands. Earlier, she had hesitated—now, the choice was no longer hers.
There wasn’t enough time to change.
Setting the clothes aside, she turned toward the open window on the other side of the room, intending to slip out.
But as she took her first step, a faint "squeak" escaped from her waterlogged sandals.
She froze.
Surely they hadn’t heard. She had closed the door, and she was in the inner chamber while voices still carried outside. She tried to reassure herself.
After steeling her nerves, she resumed her path toward the window.
One step, two steps, three...
The carved wooden window drew nearer.
Just as she was two steps away from it, the outer door suddenly swung open. Dai Li's pupils constricted slightly, but before she could seize the moment to flee, a deep male voice erupted like thunder beside her ear:
"Who's in there? Come out."
Dai Li felt as if she had plunged into an abyss.
She had been discovered? Even with a door between them, how had he sensed someone inside...
Footsteps sounded outside as if the person was checking whether the intruder was in the outer chamber.
"Refusing a toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit."
A flash of silver shot inward, slicing through the beaded curtain with such force that it severed a string of hanging pearls, embedding both blade and beads into the wall behind the small door.
The dagger hummed with vibration. Turning at the sound, Dai Li caught her own terrified reflection in the cold, gleaming steel.
