"It was Jiang Yunshu's fate to die in Zhaozhao's place."
These words echoed relentlessly in Concubine Qiao's ears. Her eyes bloodshot, her body drenched in blood, she lunged at Lady Hou.
"Die! All of you, die!"
But Concubine Qiao, tortured to the brink of death, had no strength left.
Lady Hou kicked her squarely in the chest, sending her tumbling across the ground, blood pooling beneath her.
Gasping in agony, Concubine Qiao mustered the last remnants of her strength, lifting her head with great effort to glare hatefully at the three before her.
For a moment, Jiang Zhaohua was frozen under the weight of that gaze.
What kind of look was that...?
Was it truly worth it? To go this far for Jiang Yunshu, a girl who wasn’t even related to her by blood?
Jiang Yunshu was already dead. Concubine Qiao could have lived comfortably in the Marquis's Mansion, wanting for nothing...
Jiang Zhaohua’s thoughts drifted. In her past life, when everyone believed she had died, had anyone ever gone to such lengths for her?
Her own father, mother, younger brother... had any of them mourned her as deeply as Concubine Qiao mourned Jiang Yunshu?
Concubine Qiao was so consumed by grief that she had thrown away her own life, all for the sake of avenging Jiang Yunshu...
What right did Jiang Yunshu have to be loved like this?
Suddenly, Jiang Zhaohua snapped out of her thoughts. What was she thinking? Why was she comparing herself to a dead woman?
When Jiang Yunshu was alive, aside from her face, she had been inferior to Jiang Zhaohua in every way...
Surely, the love her parents had for her surpassed whatever affection Concubine Qiao held for Jiang Yunshu.
In this life, she would marry Duan Jinxing. She would rise to greater heights, make her parents proud!
The good fortune Jiang Yunshu had in her past life—now it was Jiang Zhaohua’s turn to claim it. A smug smile curled on her lips.
Just then, a panting servant rushed in. "My Lord, My Lady! The Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord has arrived at the mansion!"
"He’s already at the gates!"
The Marquis and Lady Hou paled at the news.
"The Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord... What business does he have here?"
Terror gripped them, yet they dared not delay. They hurried out to receive him.
Neither noticed how Jiang Zhaohua behind them had gone deathly pale, her entire body trembling, cold sweat beading on her forehead.
She clenched her handkerchief tightly, repeating to herself: She was different now.
She was the legitimate daughter of the Marquis's Mansion, the future wife of the Prime Minister—no longer the nameless, faceless woman from her past life, toiling among the lowly servants in the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord’s estate.
She had no reason to fear him...
His visit must be unrelated to her. He was here to see her father... Yes, that had to be it...
Her entire body shook. She wanted to flee back to her quarters, bury herself under the covers, put as much distance between herself and the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord as possible!
But when the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord arrived, every member of the household was required to greet him at the gates.
Grandmother stood at the forefront, followed by the Marquis and Lady Hou. Jiang Zhaohua stood behind them, fighting the urge to run.
As the legitimate daughter, she had her younger siblings behind her. She couldn’t let them see her panic.
The streets surrounding the mansion had been cleared, an eerie silence hanging in the air—unlike anything Jiang Zhaohua had ever witnessed.
Imperial guards clad in gleaming armor stood watch outside, their weapons drawn.
No... This wasn’t a guard detail. It was a siege. The mansion was surrounded!
A wave of indescribable dread crashed over Jiang Zhaohua.
Even Grandmother and her parents ahead sensed something amiss, their fearful gazes fixed on the procession slowly halting before the gates.
The Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord’s entourage was grand—imperial guards leading the way, countless attendants trailing behind.
At the center was an extravagant, towering carriage.
As the procession came to a stop, Grandmother knelt, and the rest followed suit.
A eunuch unhurriedly lifted the carriage’s curtain, inviting the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord to step out.
With a light step on the eunuch’s back, he descended.
Jiang Zhaohua kept her head bowed, not daring to look up, not daring to be seen.
From the corner of her eye, she could only see his boots.
But instead of moving forward, the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord turned back toward the carriage...
Was there someone else inside?
Baffled, Jiang Zhaohua risked a glance.
She watched as he personally drew the curtain aside.
A slender figure emerged. He reached out, steadying her, then carefully lifted her down from the carriage!
The Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord was carrying a woman?
As he took a few steps forward, the woman’s legs dangled from his arms, the hem of her skirt revealing a pair of embroidered shoes adorned with cloud motifs.
At the tips gleamed two pigeon egg-sized pearls, their soft pink-white luster shimmering with every movement.
Jiang Zhaohua had never seen pearls so large—let alone a flawless matched pair!
A single pearl of that quality could be passed down as a family heirloom. A pair was priceless beyond measure. Yet here they were, casually sewn onto a pair of shoes?
The rumors... They were all true...
In her past life, the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord had only glanced at her once before casting her aside to labor among the servants, never sparing her another thought.
What kind of woman could captivate him like this?
Unable to resist, Jiang Zhaohua stole another look.
"Ah—!"
The sight struck her like lightning. A scream tore from her throat before she could stop it.
The Marquis and Lady Hou jerked their heads up at her cry—and froze at the sight of Jiang Yunshu, the girl they believed dead.
The Marquis trembled where he knelt, teeth chattering.
Lady Hou shrieked, "A ghost!" before fainting on the spot.
Jiang Zhaohua collapsed to the ground.
No... Impossible... How could Jiang Yunshu still be alive?
Why was she with the Nine Thousand-Year-Old Lord?
The man who never allowed women near him—why was he cradling Jiang Yunshu in his arms?
He held her with such care, as though she were the most fragile treasure in the world.
