Her close friend grasped Jiang Zhaohua's hand and traced the character "nine" in her palm.
Jiang Zhaohua grew even more confused. Nine? There was no Ninth Prince in the capital—could it be the ninth-ranked marquis?
She puzzled over it for a long while but still couldn’t figure it out.
Her friend sighed in exasperation, leaning in to whisper in her ear, "It’s the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord."
"And he has a woman by his side now—one he dotes on excessively."
Clang!
The teacup in Jiang Zhaohua’s hand crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces. Tea splashed across the hem of her skirt.
Her face turned deathly pale, lips trembling as she stammered, "Th-That’s impossible…"
She had sent people to keep watch near the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord’s private estate, the Xie Residence, for ages. No woman had ever been brought inside!
In fact, the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord hadn’t even returned to the Xie Residence in all that time!
Right…! Like a drowning woman clutching at straws, Jiang Zhaohua spoke urgently, "The Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord hasn’t left the palace in ages! How could he possibly be keeping a woman?"
Her friend stared at her, baffled by her uncharacteristic outburst.
"Leave the palace? The woman is hidden inside the palace…"
"What?!" Jiang Zhaohua’s face drained of all color, and she let out an undignified cry.
"That can’t be!"
In her past life, the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord had never allowed any woman near him!
Rumors had long swirled in the capital that he preferred the company of men—particularly young, untouched boys…
Before Jiang Zhaohua was taken to the Xie Residence, she had only half-believed the gossip. But after arriving, she saw with her own eyes and knew it to be true.
Xie Lin never permitted women to serve him. All his attendants were boys under ten years old.
In her past life, from the day Jiang Zhaohua was brought to the Xie Residence until her death years later, there had never been a woman by the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord’s side.
Though after her arrival, he had merely lifted her bridal veil, given her one indifferent glance, and walked away—never to lay eyes on her again…
Even so, she had been the most exceptionally treated woman in all those years!
How could there be another woman in this life?
And not just brought to the Xie Residence, but hidden in the palace?
Doted on by the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord…?
No. Impossible. Absolutely impossible!
Jiang Zhaohua struggled to breathe. Why was this life so different from the last?
If there truly was such a woman by Xie Lin’s side… who could she be?
A horrifying answer surfaced in Jiang Zhaohua’s mind—one she dreaded most.
"Ah—!" A sharp pain suddenly tore through her abdomen, leaving her drenched in cold sweat.
"A physician! Fetch a physician!"
"My stomach—it hurts!"
The physician arrived swiftly. After taking her pulse, his expression darkened.
"What could possibly have frightened you so, madam, that you’d neglect the child in your womb?"
"I’ll prepare a tonic to stabilize the pregnancy. Drink it, then return home and rest. Do not move recklessly, and above all, avoid further emotional distress…"
Jiang Zhaohua lay in the carriage on the way home and went straight to bed, ordering her maid to brew the medicine.
Duan’s mother was alarmed. "What happened? Did she fall?"
The pain in Jiang Zhaohua’s abdomen still raged, and the sound of Duan’s mother’s voice made her head throb. She waved a hand, instructing the maid to send the older woman away.
From the maid, Duan’s mother learned that Jiang Zhaohua hadn’t fallen—she’d merely been frightened while chatting with noble ladies.
"What could they have said to unsettle the baby so?"
The maid shook her head. The noblewomen had spoken in whispers, keeping their attendants at a distance.
Duan’s mother couldn’t make sense of it. Anxious and irritated, she fumed at Jiang Zhaohua’s fragility and carelessness… If anything happened to her precious grandson—!
Jiang Zhaohua herself was terrified. She followed the physician’s orders meticulously, avoiding any thoughts of Xie Lin.
Over and over, she reassured herself: Even if the woman by Xie Lin’s side was Jiang Yunshu, even if Jiang Yunshu hadn’t died… it didn’t matter!
What could Jiang Yunshu do, alive or not?
At most, she’d be trapped in some sunless prison, just as Jiang Zhaohua had been—never to escape.
How could a woman like that threaten her, the legitimate daughter of a marquis and wife of a future chancellor?
Jiang Yunshu would be forced to listen helplessly, just as Jiang Zhaohua once had, as news of her husband’s rising fortunes spread—gnashing her teeth in hatred but powerless to act.
Jiang Yunshu couldn’t leave… She’d never come for revenge…
Jiang Zhaohua told herself not to trust rumors. Those women might be lying.
Even if it were true that the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord was infatuated with Jiang Yunshu now, it meant nothing.
Others didn’t know Xie Lin’s nature, but Jiang Zhaohua did. His heart was ice.
However taken he might be by Jiang Yunshu’s beauty, the novelty would fade. Soon, she’d be cast aside—condemned to a life worse than a scullery maid’s, just as Jiang Zhaohua had been…
Besides, the woman might not even be Jiang Yunshu…
After days of bed rest, her condition stabilized. When the physician confirmed the pregnancy was safe, Jiang Zhaohua discreetly sent her maid to gather every scrap of gossip about the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord’s woman.
The maid, though puzzled, soon returned with answers.
"They say the woman is an exceptional dancer. The Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord intends to adorn her shoes with the finest pearls—just for her performances…"
Jiang Zhaohua’s heart sank. Jiang Yunshu could dance. Was it really her?
But then the maid added, "Lately, the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord has been searching for rare zithers for her."
"None of the famed instruments in the capital satisfy him. Rumor has it he’s sent men west to find a master luthier… to craft a zither worthy of her beauty…"
Jiang Zhaohua exhaled in relief.
It couldn’t be Jiang Yunshu.
Because Jiang Yunshu had never learned to play the zither!
When their tutor had tried to teach the sisters, Jiang Yunshu had been too lazy, complaining that the strings hurt her fingers. She’d refused to practice.
Now that the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord sought zithers for his beloved, the woman had to be someone else.
She’d overreacted… Jiang Zhaohua rested her hands gently on her belly, remorseful for putting the baby through such distress.
That woman wasn’t Jiang Yunshu. Jiang Yunshu was long buried in the earth.
Meanwhile, she was married to a future chancellor, carrying his child.
