The princes were getting older and bolder, cozying up to ministers, and the ministers started picking sides behind closed doors.
Originally, the Chancellor’s House stood above the fray—only loyal to the emperor.
When the emperor was young he and my father had been close; because of that, when I was born I was granted the title Lady Annin and a small parcel of land.
That was a privilege ordinary official daughters could only dream of.
But in my last life I was stupid. I let myself be dazzled by the third prince’s looks and insisted—desperately—that I would marry him.
I ignored that my father never took sides, and I underestimated how sharp and cunning Prince Alexander really was.
So I was forced into the marriage. As expected, I wasn’t loved. I grew jealous of Hazel Bennett and did a string of terrible things.
In the end I betrayed my country for my own selfishness—almost causing a catastrophe—and I destroyed the Chancellor’s House.
I watched my father, the man who had always doted on me, kneel ragged and filthy on the execution platform, his clothes in tatters, while bewildered townspeople threw rotten vegetables at him. I lost my mind.
I rushed up to grab the execution knife and, in the panic, I accidentally…stuck it into myself.
When I woke up, I was fourteen again.
2.
At that moment, Prince Alexander was petitioning the emperor to call off the engagement.
The old me would never have let that happen.
I would have wept, thrown tantrums, even tried to hang myself—anything to stop it. My father, a hopeless doting man, had mimicked my behavior and gone to the emperor to plead in my stead.
The emperor had a headache and told the prince to go prepare the wedding instead.
But now—
“Tuan Tuan—Daddy told you, that third prince isn’t your true match. Look…let’s not marry him, okay?”
Lord Chancellor came bustling into my room the moment he heard. He was nearly forty, calm and scholarly, radiating mature masculinity.
When he wasn’t flattering anyone.
Yesterday, for reasons he still didn’t understand, his daughter had woken up sobbing like she’d been grievously wronged. He was heartbroken just watching her; his liver ached with worry.
Outwardly strict and stern, he held his daughter like a priceless thing—afraid to drop her, afraid to spoil her. His wife died young; he had been both father and mother to me. He’d practically put me on a pedestal. He’d never seen me cry like I did yesterday.
Thinking I might break down again made him miserable. He asked cautiously.
I felt a pang of sadness and set down the warm jug of milk in my hands.
“Daddy, you look like one of those street hustlers when you smile. It’s kind of scary.”
Lord Chancellor’s face fell—not because I mocked him, but because I actually joked with him. By his understanding of me, I should be frantic, clutching his sleeve and bawling my eyes out. This calmness was abnormal.
“Uh…Tuan Tuan, did you hear what I said?”
I nodded and smiled. “Yes. The third prince wants to call it off? Fine—let him.”
He touched my forehead, then his own, murmuring, “No fever.”
I watched him and remembered his gaunt figure on the scaffold. My mouth twisted. I swallowed the ache and said, “You know, I suddenly think Prince Alexander is kind of ugly. Let the engagement go.”
Lord Chancellor: Huh?
Prince Alexander was supposed to be the most handsome man in the Capital.
3.
In a tasteful chamber, a man in a blue silk robe embroidered with silver lotus sat straight-backed at a writing table, practicing calligraphy.
His strokes were neat yet carried an effortless stray—cutting deep into the paper.
From a gilded dragon censer, rosewood incense curled up and softened the room with serenity.
“Your Highness, Miss Bennett has agreed to annul the engagement.”
He paused mid-stroke. The characters on the page were finished—masterful.
His eyes were narrow, nose high, lips thin—equal parts passionate and indifferent, with an altogether upright bearing. That contradiction made him irresistible.
“How odd.”
He put down the brush, completed the last stroke, and looked up at his attendant. “So she came to her senses? Exactly what did she say?”
Prince Alexander was a little surprised. Miss Bennett had clung to him since their first meeting—for five years she’d chased him so relentlessly he was almost haunted. For her to suddenly give up was astonishing.
The captain of the secret guards considered and answered, “Miss Bennett said…she said, ‘Your Highness is ugly.’”
He left out the word “rather.”
Prince Alexander: “……”
4.
Miss Bennett’s voluntary annulment of her engagement to Prince Alexander rocked the Capital’s elite!
Claire Bennett became the cautionary tale for society ladies everywhere.
Scorn and curiosity mingled. Invitations to view flowers and attend banquets poured into the Chancellor’s House like a tide.
I was sprawled on a soft divan, nursing a bowl of iced pudding by the brazier, planning to refuse everything—until Lady Madeline herself posted an invitation.
Of course they were bored and wanted to mock me, but one must maintain face for the future sister-in-law.
Ugh—this was such a headache. The date was tomorrow.
I was comfortable and didn’t want to go out, but I lacked hairpins to match my new dress…sigh—
5.
After half an hour, Lily and June finally dragged my half-comatose self up to dress and primp me.
I wore a red Liu-style gown with gold-stitched plum blossoms and a plain red cloak trimmed with white fox fur—warm and elegant.
I pulled my hair into a simple down-style and tucked in a pomegranate hairpin. Tiny ruby tassels brushed my cheek and made my face look smaller.
I checked myself in the mirror, satisfied, and stepped out with Lily and Maya.
In my last life, Prince Alexander liked strolling the market with Hazel Bennett. I had been jealous and sulky and never enjoyed it—so this time I planned to simply appreciate the street.
Of course, fate had other plans. I stepped outside and found a brash man harassing a poor girl who’d sold herself to bury her father.
“Oy—little thing, come here, lemme take a look—”
“Sir, please don’t touch me!”
Her voice was firm but soft, slightly hoarse—like a feather across the heart. It made my scalp prickle. Holy—no way—wasn’t that Hazel Bennett???
Why was she selling herself to bury her father?
6.
The man I recognized: Heir Whitaker, Samuel Whitaker—the marquis’s son.
A dashing rake, but actually a big oaf.
He had a reputation for collecting pretty things—had he set his sights on Hazel and wanted to “collect” her?
Look—he had the nerve to lay hands on her.
He was already tugging at her sleeve, babbling, “You say you’re selling yourself to bury your father? I’ll buy you. I’ll pay you and take you home. I’ll dress you up every day and make you beautiful!”
Hazel struggled until her lips bled; she looked like she might cry. Her face was pale, those big doe eyes rimmed with tears—she was heart-wrenching to look at.
And actually kind of pretty.
Ugh! I wasn’t thinking she was pretty! I only felt guilty for the harm I’d done her in that last life…yes, that’s it!
Hmph—thinking that, I kicked Samuel Whitaker away. He’d once been my father’s apprentice for two years, so I didn’t fear him. “You’re no better than a pervert. The girl would never go with someone like you!”
He stumbled back, stunned, ready to lash out—but then froze when he saw the defiant little girl in front of him. He took a step forward, then retreated like she was a dangerous enemy.
“Why are you everywhere I go, Claire Bennett? Ugh! Always tattling!”
I narrowed my eyes. He probably remembered being punished when my father dragged me to complain to his master—he’d been roughed up badly enough he couldn’t walk for three days. He fled with his attendants, shouting, “You’ll get your comeuppance!”
Trash.
Hazel glanced after the fleeing Whitaker, then at me, weighing the silver coin in her hand. She suddenly knelt.
“Thank you, miss, for redeeming me. From now on, I belong to you!”
I was stunned. “That silver—wasn’t that mine?!”
Hazel was solemn. “If a bad man gives the money, and a kind miss drives away the bad man, then it’s as if the kind miss gave it.”
That worked???
7.
Me: Claire Bennett—daughter of the Chancellor, Lady Annin—reborn for only a couple days, and my former rival had just become my free handmaiden. She’d be reporting for duty tomorrow.
Her silver-tongued explanation left me speechless. I watched her walk away and stood there thinking.
In my last life, Hazel had been the daughter of the Secretary of Revenues. How had she ended up selling herself to bury her father?
Was I in a false rebirth?
Or had she met Prince Alexander while she was selling herself?
In my previous life I was at home happily embroidering a bridal veil at this very hour, so I wasn’t out on the street. That would mean the prince must have been nearby.
I looked around—no one. When I turned my head up, I saw Prince Alexander leaning over a tavern balcony, drinking. His narrow eyes landed on me.
Ugh—karma works fast.
No big deal, he’s far away, he can’t see clearly.
Maybe he wasn’t even looking at me!
I covered my face and fled without looking back.
Lily and Maya chased after me, bewildered, yelling, “Miss—!!!”
The whole street heard them—how mortifying. What if I’d just swooped in on someone the former fiancé liked and then turned that woman into my handmaiden in front of his face?
Panic swelled—what have I done?
Why did I even go out?
Ah!!!
Prince Alexander watched the flustered retreating figure and the corner of his mouth lifted.
This panicked little act was cuter than the usual fake-genteel routine.
8.
I sprinted to The Jewel Box and checked behind me. Good—no tail.
Silly to think Prince Alexander would chase after me. I nearly cried at how foolish I was.
Where had my previous confidence come from—so nasty and reckless?
I remembered all the poisonings and schemes I’d used last time. Maybe I’d already been exposed. Before any treason, Prince Alexander had been unusually lenient with me. Sigh—this life, I’d keep my distance.
The Jewel Box was the Capital’s largest jewelry shop, backed by the biggest royal merchant in the Northen Province. Its pieces were exquisite and costly—just a single cheap ring from here could make a poor family look respectable as dowry.
No wonder nobility and official daughters loved the place.
Lily and Maya accompanied me up to the third floor. Luckily it was cold and quiet; I didn’t want to run into acquaintances.
“Ah—if it isn’t Lady Annin—”
Ugh, so annoying.
I stiffened and looked up to the fourth floor. A woman in a peach silk skirt descended the stairs, one step at a time. Her limited-edition golden phoenix hairpin with a cat’s-eye gemstone flashed prismatic light.
Her maid supported her, careful not to touch the bracelets on her wrist or the jeweled claws on her fingers.
Lady Madeline, of course.
I bowed, forced a smile, and she gave me a once-over before asking, “So it’s true? You called it off?”
“You’ve got guts now,” she added with a grin.
I put on a solemn face. “I’ve accepted it. A forced melon isn’t sweet.”
Madeline Clarke looked down at the half-head-taller, rosy-cheeked girl in front of her and laughed. “What are you pretending to be serious for?”
She flicked her eyes toward my back and went on, “If Prince Alexander isn’t sweet enough, who in all of Northen Province could be sweeter—”
I didn’t catch the change in her tone. I thought a moment and said, “You know, I suddenly realize someone like my brother is really the best. He looks so delicate, like he’s sickly.”
I said it with a grave face, spouting nonsense and conveniently ignoring the fact that Alexander defeated his own brother at thirteen.
Madeline burst out laughing, snorting until tears almost spilled. The spoiled-rich-girl filter she’d been wearing just shattered.
I took two steps back in disgust. “Watch your image. If someone sees you like that and thinks you’ve lost your mind, I’m not helping you.”
Lily poked me; I ignored her and shrugged.
Madeline couldn’t stop laughing. She didn’t answer, and one of her maids, very tactfully, helped her back up to the fourth floor.
She was still laughing as she climbed. “Hahaha.”
I was livid. God, that idiot’s going to be my sister-in-law?
Do people even deserve to live???
9.
“My health isn’t great, okay?”
A familiar voice spoke behind me—pleasant, with a trace of threat.
My knees almost went weak; I nearly fell forward.
Fine. The idiot was me.
I stared at the long staircase to the fourth floor and swallowed. That staircase wasn’t stairs—it was a lifeline.
I took off running, but I’d barely taken a step when someone grabbed the back of my neck and hoisted me up, bringing me face-to-face with a pair of long, narrow eyes.
“Heh… heh heh… what a coincidence, P-Prince Alexander,” I stammered.
I hated being short in that moment. Standing before a man a head taller than me, I felt like crying.
First he stole someone else’s woman, then he caught me gossiping about him—I suddenly didn’t want to be reborn at all.
Maybe death was better than dying of embarrassment.
“You annulled our engagement, and now you spread rumors about me?
Trying to make sure I never marry?
Hm?”
He said it in the gentlest tone imaginable, the kind that turned me into a quivering quail. I wanted to argue that he’d heard wrong, but then—
“You were the one who wanted the annulment! Not me!”
Alexander looked at the slightly chubby, pink-cheeked face in front of him—the big round eyes glaring like a disgruntled pup newly arrived from far-off lands, the little mouth pursed in a pout.
He could see I was furious and smiled softer. “But the Emperor said it was you who called it off—”
I: #￥…&&*
Okay, that was my father, the Lord Chancellor, saving my reputation by telling the Emperor that, even though I’d already pretty much lost any reputation I had.
I wrestled free of his hand on my nape. “Whatever who proposed it, it’s done. From now on, let propriety stand: may both parties be happy in their marriages.”
Alexander’s eyes dimmed. He still smiled, but after nearly five years of dealing with him, I could tell—he was angry.
Why, though?
So strange.
I lost interest in picking a hairpin. I grabbed the first pretty one and paid for it. Grief, indignation, and anger churned inside me.
It’s just so weird—he’s the one who doesn’t want me, he’s the one who doesn’t like me, so why does he act like he’s somehow interested? Gross.
10.
I stormed back to the Bennett Manor, dreading the next day when every young lady in the Clarke House would grill me about the annulment all over again.
Alexander’s face kept playing in my head. Why was he angry?
I am angry!
From the first time I saw him at nine to when I was fifteen, then married him and died in my previous life in our fourth year—he’d always smile gentle but never lift a finger to be forward.
It made me think I had a chance. So I clung to him recklessly, and he never pushed me away.
The Emperor didn’t oppose his granted marriage, but when I had second thoughts at my coming-of-age, it all fell apart. What kind of behavior was that?
Garbage man!
He remarried Lord Marcus’s favored bride half a year into our marriage!
He knew I did terrible things for him and didn’t stop me, didn’t tell me not to, maybe even secretly arranged things to make me move aside!
I pictured Alexander worse and worse while thinking through everything from my last life, and finally I cried myself asleep.
A curtain stirred. A figure entered the room. He stared at the small woman on the bed, saw the tear-stained pillow, and gently touched her slightly swollen eyes.
He muttered to himself, “So stupid. Stupid and blind.”
11.
“Huh?”
I woke expecting swollen, walnut-sized eyes. Miraculously, there was no swelling—perfect. Lily had done my hair in an intricate knot that looked both ethereal and cute; it suited me.
Maya had picked my outfit: a plum-colored gown sweeping the floor with plum-flower makeup. I looked gentle with a touch of coy charm.
When I stuck in the hairpin I’d bought yesterday… it felt wrong. This wasn’t the pin I’d paid for.
“What’s wrong, miss?” Maya asked.
I examined the pin. It was a phoenix-tail butterfly, lifelike enough that its wings seemed poised to flutter. Tiny colored gems trailed down its tail like a comet’s tail. It was exquisitely made. The pin I’d bought for fifty taels couldn’t possibly look like this—this looked worth at least five hundred. Jackpot.
Maybe a loss can turn out to be a gain—yay. I climbed into the carriage in high spirits, munching a pastry.
I’d already decided to give up on Alexander, and now I was even more certain.
My household was simple—my brother spoiled me, my father indulged me, and the steward handled the rest. I didn’t mind palace intrigue and love triangles.
I didn’t care what happened in my last life anymore. This life, I’d be myself: find someone who truly cherished me, someone who’d come home often to see my father, and live a peaceful life.
12.
“Hey? Is Claire Bennett coming today?”
“No idea. She probably doesn’t have the face to show,” someone tittered. “She kept pestering him, and then she got her engagement annulled.”
“Wasn’t it her who asked for it?”
“Not at all—Prince Alexander proposed it, but the Emperor is being considerate for the Chancellor’s sake, so….”
The women at the banquet chatted about the hottest gossip in town—which, inconveniently for me, was me—with most voices laced with schadenfreude.
Prince Alexander had a strong chance at the throne. Countless official families’ daughters adored him. And I’d been monopolizing his attention, so now they finally had a shot.
I stood at the doorway, listening, looking down. June watched me, worried.
Sigh—fame brings trouble. I stepped inside. A footman announced loudly, “Miss Bennett of the Chancellor’s House—” and the hall fell silent for a beat.
Everyone stared as I entered. I wore a composed smile and took my place with proper protocol.
Madeline sat at the head, her eyes wickedly gleeful. I stuck my tongue out at her subtly.
The second daughter of the Secretary of Revenues leaned in. “You annulled your engagement!”
I nodded. “Yes. So?”
She clucked in wonder, then retreated.
“Probably Prince Alexander got disgusted since she was so forward—” A clipped voice carried malicious laughter that set others snickering.
I looked and saw it was Evelyn Price.
13.
Evelyn was hailed as Northen City’s brightest talent—proud and high-minded. She’d once been my rival, but once I started chasing Alexander, I didn’t bother competing for that title anymore.
Then she started spreading rumors—saying I threw myself at him, that I was shameless and clinging, that he hated me.
Okay, yes— I’d been clingy.
But he didn’t hate me, alright?
Reborn Rich: Revenge, Romance, Repeat
She’d done a lot to wreck my reputation. Tsk. I had suspected Alexander disliked bold women and preferred coy, obedient ones in public, but now—no point anymore.
So when she sneered, I snapped back, “Right, coming on strong isn’t a transaction. You sneakingly gave Lord Marcus a scented sachet during the Needlework Festival—very clever.”
Her face flushed. She hadn’t expected me to know. Put to shame, she leapt up. “Claire Bennett, you’re shameless—and you lie about me! When did I ever give Lord Marcus a sachet?”
I munched my plum cake and looked at her coolly, not even bothering to reason. The girls who’d been her friends shifted and started whispering, wearing looks of disdain.
What fragile friendships.
“Cough, cough. Enough. We’re sisters. Look at these plum blossoms—come on, enjoy them.” Madeline, bored of the scene, tried to smooth things over.
The other ladies quickly calmed Evelyn. She shot me a hateful look as she sat.
I looked at the plum blossoms and felt weary.
I really didn’t like this atmosphere.
14.
Madeline saw my distracted face and dragged me into her room to gossip. “What’s wrong with you?”
Only the two of us, so no need for pretense. I slumped into a chair. “Boring.”
She frowned. “Boring? You loved these parties before!”
I thought for a second. “Maybe I’m different now. I’ve come of age.”
Madeline: “…you’re getting weirder. But fine. I’ve always said Alexander doesn’t like you; stop pining after him.”
I nodded as she spoke. After a pause she said, “I’ve got a few new little maids who can do tricks. Want one to play with?”
I looked up at her bright smile and nodded.
She called, and a girl came in—round-faced, lively. In my previous life, Madeline gave her to me on my wedding day, and she became my most trusted maid. I don’t know what happened to her after I died.
The girl made an orange vanish and then reappear in my pocket. I laughed.
Madeline said, “See? Iris is amazing.”
I nodded. “Yeah, she’s clever. Let’s call her Iris.”
Madeline rolled her eyes. “Are you picking fights with the word ‘Iris’ now?”
Back at the banquet, I kept up my semi-detached act. Madeline, tired of my deadpan, told me to scram—and I sprang to life and left pronto.
Socializing is exhausting.
On the carriage, watching Iris’s sleight of hand, I couldn’t help feeling that fate worked in mysterious ways—
The maid I’d been given on my wedding day in my last life had somehow come to me again.
I sipped hot tea and nibbled at a pastry, restless. How do I pry myself free from memories of my past life?
These three days have felt like a dream.
After dozing for half an hour, we finally reached the Chancellor's House. I stretched, and Lily's voice came from outside the carriage: "Oh? You're that girl who sold herself to bury her father yesterday!"
"Smack."
The pastry in my hand fell to the floor and suddenly tasted like nothing.
I slapped my forehead. Oh my God… I forgot about her.
I lifted the curtain and saw Hazel Bennett in a white dress, expression steady, neither servile nor overbearing. She looked at me and said, "Miss."
Me: …ah. This isn't just a dream—it's a nightmare!
Hazel is very diligent, with smooth poise and delicate features. Even in plain clothes, her beauty demanded attention—tender, moving.
A tiny red teardrop mole under one eye gave her innocence a hint of allure. If she changed into finer clothes she could pass for a lady better than me.
In my last life I didn't spend much time with her except in plots and betrayals. The thing I envied most was that face—I wanted to ruin it at every turn. But now, watching her bustle around me, it's oddly pleasant.
For the past three months I've been holed up inside the Chancellor's House, turning down all invitations. I promoted Hazel from a third-rank maid to a first-rank one and kept her by my side every day.
Honestly, there's nothing special about it—I just wanted to see where I lost out.
Turns out there's a real gap. She may be beautiful and now elevated by me, but she shows no trace of indulgence.
She completes chores conscientiously, keeps good relations with everyone, and doesn't make me worry. When I noticed she liked reading, I handed her a few rare volumes I'd read. She was so moved she nearly cried. So innocent.
Why in my past life did I think she was scheming and demonic?
I also expected Iris to be like I remembered—loyal, obedient, always offering me plans and thinking about my interests. But this time, she acted…oddly.
Like when she went to steal bird eggs, the mother bird defended her chicks and pecked Iris's hand. Iris actually dropped the nest from the tree and tried to stomp the mother bird to death.
I stopped her, but the mother bird was injured and couldn't fly for a while.
Afterward Iris apologized through tears, saying she was angry and had planned to use the eggs for tricks to please me.
I forgave her, but it felt strange. Thinking back to my previous life, a vague suspicion hovered in my mind.
"Dad—does the Secretary of Revenues have any lost daughters or something?"
Lately the court's been tense. Prince Marcus and Prince Julian keep arguing. Prince Lionel sides with Julian and stirs the pot. The Crown Prince tries to stay neutral—"just don't pull me into it." Prince Alexander doesn't voice opinions, but Marcus and Julian won't let him off, and the squabbling got so heated Marcus nearly cursed aloud. Julian couldn't win and was silenced.
The Emperor looked grave and didn't speak. The ministers trembled, but Lord Chancellor knew: the Emperor was just watching the show!
So messed up.
Does he not care about his own sons? Just sit back and watch, claiming it's to feel what the late emperor felt when the throne was contested.
Ridiculous. The Hayes family runs the country well, but his way of thinking is so strange!
Finally, the uproar faded and the Emperor dismissed court, still savoring it.
Lord Chancellor hurried home to have dinner with Claire Bennett—so touched he was in tears. Three days without dinner with his darling daughter had been torture!
Who knew the first thing she asked was about the Department of Revenues' girl—their relationship wasn't good before, right?
He thought a moment and said, "The eldest house's youngest daughter has been missing a long time—disappeared ten years ago, never found. Why?"
I took a sip of soup. "Just wondering, does she have any birthmarks or anything?"
Lord Chancellor nodded. "Hmm, she had a small red mole under the eye, but it's been so long—who would remember?"
He drank, and then Claire Bennett said softly, "I think I've found her."
"Cough! Cough!"
Lord Chancellor choked on his soup at his daughter's words, when she waved and a woman in a white gown stepped forward.
Her face was pure and delicate, with a tiny red teardrop mole beneath one eye.
Lord Chancellor felt this was wildly absurd.
Three months after Claire Bennett's disappearance she became twice the talk of the town—she'd found the Secretary of Revenues' long-lost youngest daughter, originally named Zhou Yunqing.
Her mother had worried and changed her name to Hazel Bennett.
Naturally, Samuel Whitaker—Heir Whitaker—freaked out and claimed he found her first, that I stole her from him. So he started coming to the Chancellor's House every day to pick fights.
I favor bright skirts and it was winter, so I wore red and pinned The Jewel Box's Butterfly Hairpin in my hair.
Watching him lounging in the hall doing nothing but sip tea made me marvel at how easy inheriting a title makes life. He could spend an entire day at my house under the pretense of consulting my father and pick a fight with me all afternoon.
Sure enough, the man leaped up the moment he saw me.
"You see! It's your fault! If I'd brought her to my house, I'd have the Secretary of Revenues' legitimate daughter as my wife!"
I gave him a lazy look, slumped back in my chair, and said, "Give me a break. Which respectable family in the Capital would marry their daughter to you? Drinking, gambling, and worse—no education. Dream on!"
He retorted, indignant, "Pah! I haven't done that!"
My head throbbed. "Who cares? If you're so obsessed, propose to the Department of Revenues! Don't hang around here pestering me every day!"
I stood to leave, but my legs were numb from the awkward position and nearly buckled. I almost hit my knees when an arm caught me.
A man steadied my elbow, frowning as he looked down. His willow-shaped eyes were affectionate, lips pressed thin, a small dimple on his cheek. Up close I smelled a faint grassy scent, mingled with the orange scent I liked—and a soft warmth where his hand held me.
I have to admit Samuel Whitaker's looks are deceiving—really handsome now, nothing like the boy who used to tail me and yank my braids.
I kept my head down and didn't notice how intimate our posture looked, as if we were embracing. I also didn't notice his ears flushing.
"Hey—do you really not like Alexander Hayes anymore?"
The voice came from above. I froze, pushed him away, and said, "Hmph. Once I say something, there's no taking it back—"
He laughed, eyes slitted, and ruffled my hair. "Good child. I'm off—"
Me: "???"
Who allowed you to touch my head? Filthy—!
I watched his cheerful retreat and decided this man only grows stranger with age.
Ugh—men around me are weird.
Because I was already a "mature" fifteen and still unbetrothed, my past accomplishments were too dazzling. Nobles worried Prince Alexander would object or feared I was too wild.
So the suitors who called were mostly mid-level civil officials. Marrying me would curry favor with my father and speed their careers—nothing more. Truly talented, aloof young men wouldn't propose.
Lord Chancellor fumed and scolded their lack of vision. There were one or two high-ranking candidates, but they were illegitimate sons—my father would never approve. Those households were complicated; their prospects bleak. He said he'd rather raise me himself than marry me off into that mess.
I clung to his arm and acted spoiled, insisting I didn't want to marry. He calmed for a bit, then went to the family shrine to speak with my mother's spirit.
Whenever he felt he hadn't done right by me, he'd visit my mother's tablet and talk. Before I married Prince Alexander in my last life, he'd stayed there several days and nights and came back with gray at his temples.
Seeing him do it again made my eyes sting. Even reborn, I'm still such an unfilial daughter who makes him worry.
The weather's warmed lately, so I've been taking Lily, Maya, June, and Iris out in rotation—and sometimes Hazel comes along.
We find a pretty spot, spread a little silk rug, nibble pastries, sip hot tea, and the day slips by.
Of course I have an ulterior motive—if I meet someone appealing, I'll probe his character. If he's decent, maybe I can marry and give my father something to do.
Perfect—"Claire!"
A sweet voice called. I turned: Hazel—in full sky-blue dress, hair pinned with a beautiful blue jade hairpin, looking ethereal. And next to her—oh no—Prince Alexander, Lord Marcus, and Evelyn Price, along with some unfamiliar noble girls.
Ugh, rotten luck.
"Claire, long time no see. I came looking for you when you were ill—are you better?"
I looked at the lively girl before me and then at Alexander's gentle gaze toward her. I smiled, "Yes, I'm out getting some air—"
Predictably, they're together. Sigh—Hazel is cute, but I truly don't want to see Alexander or Evelyn right now—
"I heard the young lady's been looking at suitors—good news must be near, isn't there any update—"
Evelyn said, her eyes laced with thin mockery.
Alexander's brow tightened for a fraction of a second, gone in an instant.
Lord Marcus snapped his folding fan open with a crisp sound and said sarcastically, "Claire is charming, and Lord Chancellor is a pillar of the state—ordinary men are unfit. She deserves a match above all others."
Looking at Lord Marcus and Evelyn together, you could see why—they were a perfect match in annoyance.
Hazel frowned and stood. "Sister, how can a young woman discuss marriage in public? Marriage is the duty of parents and matchmakers. And Lord Marcus jesting about this—it's not proper for a gentleman."
Lord Marcus' face blew cold. He stepped forward and snapped at Hazel, "Are you lecturing me?"
Alexander, always wearing a smile, moved up and stopped between them, saying to Marcus, "Brother, must you get angry? Why?"
Watching this scene made my eyes ache.
I noticed Alexander's brief discomfort. I knew he didn't dislike me—maybe he felt something—but he'd never stand up for me like that, never place himself between me and someone else.
From an observer's viewpoint everything fell into place, and I finally let go.
Past and present—love and hate—let them fade.
I brushed off imaginary dust from my skirt, rose, and nibbled the pastry in my hand as I watched the drama unfold.
Prince Marcus noticed my stare and sneered, "Miss Bennett, pretty, huh?
In all of Northern City, you're the only society lady unbetrothed! Hmph—"
"Who said I'm unbetrothed!"
Me: "Hmm?"
I turned and saw Samuel Whitaker walking over. His hair was loosely tied with a teal brocade ribbon; he wore a teal robe embroidered with silver thread. His gaze was bright.
He carried a birdcage. His peach-blossom eyes were dreamy and affectionate; a small dimple curved at the corner of his mouth—suave, charming, dazzling.
Alexander looked at him in surprise and scoffed, "What are you even babbling about?
If Lord Chancellor wanted Miss Bennett promised to someone, he wouldn't promise her to you—the Capital's biggest rake."
Samuel handed the birdcage to me, ruffled my hair, then planted himself in front of me and said, "What?
You can't promise her to me—can't you?
Even for drinking, gambling, and carousing, I'm way better than him. Ptooey."
Alexander was stunned. Who compares like that?
A proud prince—was he really going to compete with Samuel over who was better at vices?
If the throne's worth that, forget it. Tomorrow the memorials to the censorate would be flying.
Damn!
His face flushed red with anger; he couldn't come up with a retort without losing face, so he swept his sleeve and left.
Evelyn Price trailed him out, giving me a glare. Samuel glanced at her expressionlessly, and she immediately wilted.
The other society ladies dispersed as well.
Alexander looked at me, and Samuel stepped just enough to block his view.
He smiled; Hazel Bennett—no, Hazel winked at me mischievously, mouthed "I'll come back for you," and dashed off. Alexander followed Hazel.
In an instant it was just Samuel and me.
"Little Marquis? Come on, explain. What are you planning to do?"
Samuel—who'd seemed so confident—deflated the second I spoke. He scratched his head and said, "Uh… let’s not let Lord Chancellor hear this, okay? Ha… haha…"
Watching his awkward laugh, I smiled. "I doubt it will be kept from him for even an hour."
I could see the color drain from his face. He asked weakly, "W-what if—what if I marry you? Is that okay?"
Looking at his cowardly expression pulled something in my chest—memories of him as a kid, getting in trouble and terrified of my father's punishment, begging me to protect him. Those two faces merged and softened me.
I patted his head. "Fine. But only if my father agrees."
Better to marry someone I knew than a stranger, and with my father around, he couldn't act up.
He scratched his head, smiling, and escorted me back to the Chancellor's House before hurrying home to prepare the betrothal gifts.
I nodded and went back.
I didn't notice the worry on his face switch to sudden joy; his eyes lit up.
My outing that day started off badly. I stayed home all morning, and my father barged into my room, furious, demanding what had happened that morning.
I only rounded it down to Samuel Whitaker proposing. His eyebrows shot up with anger.
"That little brat dared—I'll beat him to death!"
Then a servant announced the Little Marquis had come formally to propose.
He'd paraded the betrothal gifts around the Capital with drums and banners before arriving.
The Marquis and Samuel were already there.
Word had it the Marquis looked stern but had red-rimmed eyes—perhaps he never thought he'd live to see his son married.
My father and I were both stunned. How could this happen so fast? Even if the Marquis agreed, the matchmaker would usually need three to five days to prepare.
Lord Chancellor bristled and told me to sit tight, then stormed to the front hall ready for a showdown.
There was no way I wouldn't go, so I secretly followed.
When I arrived they'd been talking a while.
Samuel was kneeling, speaking earnestly to my father: "Since I was young, my heart has belonged to Claire. If Lord Chancellor consents, I swear I will take only Claire as my wife, cherish her all my life, protect her. If I betray this, may lightning strike me and may I die wretchedly!"
It was the first time I'd seen him so solemn; my heart thudded.
He played his part well—I almost believed him.
Seeing my father's hesitation, the Marquis's steward immediately unfurled a long betrothal list. The Whitakers' household was ancient and wealthy; though they no longer served in court, their assets were considerable. The long list was full of rare foods, fabrics, medicinal herbs, jewelry—ninety-eight sedan chairs in total. The Empress's betrothal list had once been ninety-nine. The extravagance made me suspect Samuel had been planning this for ages… Wait. Why did this feel like a setup?
After that, I don't remember much. I wandered back to my room in a daze.
In my previous life Samuel and I barely interacted. Later he supported Alexander and we were on bad terms—hardly more than acquaintances. Why was this life so different?
Another hour passed, and my father entered cautiously, sipping tea as he chose his words.
I smiled. "You agreed?"
He looked at my smiling face and, fumbling, said, "Daughter—if you don't like him we can back out, but you know the princes are vying for the throne. The Little Marquis is a rake, but his character's not bad and he hasn't taken sides. Marrying into his house is safer; it won't drag you into the succession."
"And don't think because he looks like a wastrel he runs wild. He knows his limits. He hasn't been promiscuous. If he ever bullies you, I'll go beat him up myself."
Listening to my father's worried, rambling face—frowning, then glancing at me, then getting angry—I hugged him.
He froze, felt my wet cheek, and his heart melted. "Hey, hey, don't cry. If you won't marry, you won't marry. I'll raise you forever, okay?"
I couldn't help laughing through the tears. I looked up at his furrowed, tender face and let him wipe my tears. "I will marry. It's just… I'm not so clever, and I always get into trouble, but I have the best father in the world. I'm so lucky."
He was so moved his face went soft. Pretending he couldn't cry in front of me, he stood and said he had to go, then slipped into the ancestral hall to share the news with my mother.
I watched his retreating back and smiled. I didn't understand rebirth, but this felt…good. Behind a screen someone stood quietly, a small smile with a dimple playing at his cheek.
Then, as if on cue, I got riled up again.
After refusing the Crown Prince, I was to marry the Capital's greatest playboy, the Little Marquis.
I deftly declined all other invitations.
Once the households exchanged tokens, everything moved smoothly: the compatibility divinations were set and the wedding date was fixed for the fifteenth of next month.
Thirty days? Thirty days?!
My father begged the Emperor for a favor, saying he feared I'd be mistreated. To my surprise, the Emperor granted me the title Lady Annin on the pretense of protection.
I didn't have many friends. When Madeline Clarke—my childhood friend—came with her gifts to see if I had thought it through, I nodded. She looked complicated and tugged at the corner of her mouth.
On leaving, she ran into Hazel. The look between them was an absolute disaster.
That familiar scene made me pause. So Madeline had a thing for Alexander? Madeline—my old childhood name for her, which I hadn't used in ages—had been betrothed to my eldest brother long ago. In my previous life she told me Alexander's tastes, his schedule, and comforted me when I was lonely. After marrying my brother, she often came by to let me confide in her, to advise me.
Why did all those preferences always turn out strange? Why did the "cures" I gave Hazel turn into poison? Why did every small quarrel become a life-or-death catastrophe?
I thought Hazel had been blowing things up on purpose to make Alexander dislike me. Turns out that was exactly what had happened.
Everything suddenly clicked. I laughed—how could I have been so blind?
"Claire?"
Hazel's soft voice. I looked at her worried face.
She hesitated, bit her lip, then, deciding, said, "Claire, I know you and Madeline were childhood friends, but—maybe don't care too much about what she says. Just follow your heart, okay?"
Seeing Hazel's gentle, careful attempt to spare my feelings, I felt like I owed her an apology. "I'm sorry."
Hazel blinked big eyes, smiled, a tear mole bright beneath one eye. She looked genuinely happy. "No—it's I who should thank you. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to acknowledge my own family so smoothly. Let's get along, okay?"
She'd said something similar in my past life; then I had bumped into her and left. This time I nodded sincerely and admired her—she was so pretty.
When I returned the crimson jade pendant I'd kept on me to Madeline—the half we'd split at ten—her lovely face stiffened for a moment. "What do you mean? What did Hazel say to you? You believe her and not me?"
I asked only one question: "How long have you loved Prince Alexander?"
She faltered. I stared into her eyes and said seriously, "If you say you haven't, I'll believe you."
She was speechless, then slumped into a chair.
I handed back the pendant. She stared at it but said nothing.
I walked the street with Maya and Lily following silently. The lane was lined with trees and blooms; the sun was perfect. My mood lightened when I heard a familiar voice.
"Hm?"
I turned. A familiar back was shouting, "Boss! Boss!"
I glanced at the shop sign: Ruyi Gaming House.
His pageboy caught sight of me and elbowed him hard. "Hey, what's up? The young master is enjoying himself!"
He glanced back casually. I smiled at him.
Samuel paused, hesitated, then grabbed my arm and started pulling me toward the gambling den.
"Why are you—??"
He looked back, grinning. "Law of numbers—if you play too, they won't beat me up!"
Though gaming houses didn't ban women, in my previous life I kept my gentle, demure image and never came here.
"Hmm."
It sounded like fun.
At first I was a little shy and confused about what bets meant, so I guessed wildly.
I won a few rounds, and my cheeks flushed with excitement.
This was actually fun!
An hour later, my restraint gone, I almost wanted to hop onto the table. Samuel watched the rosy-cheeked woman's face and nearly danced with glee, laughing aloud.
Luckily it was noisy here to begin with, so Claire barely noticed—her eyes were all on the betting cups.
Samuel Whitaker didn’t bother with the cups either; he could tell the numbers just by hearing.
Right now he was watching my hand, which nervously twisted my sleeve—slender, delicate, nails a soft pink.
The hand’s owner smiled with eyes that sparkled like little stars.
I couldn’t help thinking, thank goodness—easy to please, not hard at all. That was the first time I noticed Samuel’s advantage!
He was amazing!
He didn’t even look at the cups and still guessed the numbers!
Cradling the 500 silver I’d won, I felt completely light.
“Heh—prosperous. Not heavy, huh?” the man next to me teased, one corner of his mouth hooked as he flicked his little braid.
“Not heavy! I earned it fair and square! Not heavy at all!” I chirped.
Samuel’s smile narrowed his eyes, making his dimples even deeper. He ruffled my hair and I babbled about my day-long adventure at the gambling hall.
He bought me a candied hawthorn on a stick. I didn’t have a free hand, so he fed me, then stole a bite for himself now and then.
Before I knew it we were back at Bennett Manor. All that chaos had blown the gloom out of my chest.
I hesitated at the gate, wanting to thank him but feeling shy.
How do you say it?
“Thanks for taking me to the gambling hall today after I found out I’m an idiot and lost a friend and had a terrible mood—thanks for coming along?”
That would sound ridiculous. And proud.
He saw me dithering, smiled, and tapped my forehead gently, “Go on in, it’s not heavy.”
I hovered a moment longer, then quickly said, “Thank you for today,” and sprinted back into the house, heart pounding so hard I didn’t notice him watching my retreat with a faint, startled look.
What goes around comes around.
That night after my bath I saw the dark bruises on my arm. How embarrassing—I’d clutched the silver all the way home. They’d ache tomorrow.
I exhaled, got out of the tub. June dried my hair and after a sip of milk I slept in my undergarments and silk trousers.
I must’ve played myself out—pillow, lights out.
When Samuel came in, he found me sprawled on the bed, snoring softly.
He smiled watching me. The quilt lay over my belly, my pale shoulder bare. The view inside the undergarment—just the thought made him close his eyes and force down his urge.
“Little imp,” he muttered under his breath, but moved close and rubbed ointment into the bruises on my arm.
The softness under his fingers darkened his gaze further.
Watching my pink lips pucker in a little snore, he restrained himself and only tapped one finger against them.
“Mmm.” I mumbled and turned over. He chuckled and tucked the quilt around me.
Not long now—less than a month, and he’d get to enjoy the rest.
Of course, the gambling hall trip leaked out to my father. He was furious and, to my surprise, rewarded me with the newest bracelet from The Jewel Box.
Father said Samuel had dragged me to that unsavory place and might have frightened my young mind, so he gave me a consolation gift.
I nodded like crazy and praised his wisdom, then tattled on Samuel and denounced his terrible idea of taking me to the gambling hall.
When Samuel came to visit again, my father caught him with a rattan cane and drove him out of the house. I laughed until I cried.
Days passed. Father hired a governess who’d served at court to instruct me.
I quietly embroidered my bridal veil. My eldest brother returned, dusty from years away—a harsh, icy temperament, so we had never been close, though he doted on me.
In my past life, when Father died at the execution platform my brother was on his way back and I was already dead—he missed his last chance to see me.
He looked me over head to toe like he wanted to ruffle my hair but feared startling me. I hugged him, “Brother, welcome home.”
He stiffened, patted my head, touched, and said I’d grown up. Then he stormed off to pick a fight with Samuel.
He was furious that his little sister, who’d finally been willing to get close, had been led away. It was a crime.
I watched him go and smiled; living again felt wonderful. I could make up for every regret.
Thinking about Samuel being chased all over the city by my brother made me oddly satisfied—until I heard my brother got pinned by a spear in the duel.
After he returned and spoke with Father in the study, rumors spread that his engagement to Lady Madeline had been called off. Days later came word that she’d gone to the temple to tonsure and practice. I wanted to run to find her, then stopped—why pursue her?
June and Lily watched me slump back into bed worriedly. They knew I’d quarreled with Lady Madeline but not the details. I planned to tell no one.
Honestly, I wasn’t happy to hear she’d gone to the temple. Who comes back after that? Why would she do this—was it because of the broken engagement?
I didn’t hate her—not from some saintly mercy, but because I knew that even without her, I would have turned into what I had before. Jealousy had already corroded me; I would have ruined Hazel Bennett without mercy.
Still, she was only seventeen. I wanted a good ending for both of us.
On the day Lady Madeline left, I stayed in bed. I’d been there ten days, only getting up to use the chamberpot; I even ate in bed. Nothing lifted my spirits.
Father and brother guessed why and came to visit, bringing treats.
Twenty days until the wedding.
That morning, June and Lily insisted on bathing and dressing me. I fell back onto the bed, listless.
“I remember on the estate you’re like a pig—eat in your nest, sleep, then eat again,” Samuel drawled, leaning in the doorway with his braid flipping. His little dimple begged to be poked.
“What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding.” I shot him a look and lay back down.
“That’s only three days before the wedding. This is still early,” he said.
I pursed my lips.
Then—he scooped me up around the waist. I grabbed his neck in surprise and panic; June and Lily slipped out.
I wanted to wring their necks!
He laughed low and leaned close. “After the wedding, you won’t be able to leave the bed much—”
I went on full alert. What did he mean? Domestic abuse after marriage? If he touched me, my father would kill him!
I gritted my teeth, “We’ll see who can’t get out of bed—hmph.”
He blinked, laughed louder, “Then I’ll look forward to it—”
Me: “???”
Is his brain broken?
After that day I decided to eat properly and exercise, preparing to pummel Samuel on our wedding day.
Samuel watched me run laps around the courtyard, teasing me about being slow, about my short legs. I’d grab him and beat him senseless. Every time he got hit he looked annoyingly pleased, his dimple daring me to poke it. I did, worrying he’d been dinged in the head.
With his antics time flew. Before I knew it, wedding day arrived.
I was woken before dawn to be dressed. My scalp stung from the hair coiling—ouch, I yelled and wriggled.
The imperial red Shu brocade was embroidered with giant paired lotuses in gold thread, colored with many silks, then draped with a veil of pale rose dragon-silk. The dragon-silk was thin and threaded with silver flowers—ethereal and dazzling in sunlight.
I stared at myself in the mirror, stunned. I’d never looked this beautiful—rosy cheeks, a coquettish gaze. “Enchanting” didn’t even cover it.
“Oh—our bride is so pretty—” the maid doing my makeup cooed.
I took her hand, “No, sister, it’s your makeup skills!”
I secretly thought she was at least forty.
With the veil down, my brother carried me to the bridal sedan chair, whispering as he carried me, “If he bullies you tell me. If it comes to it, you can come home—your brother will take care of you,” and the like.
My eyes softened. In my last life we weren’t close; he’d been cold. Today he was talkative, almost fatherly.
I hugged his neck, “You should marry soon too, brother—stop bossing me.”
He smiled. I almost lifted the veil—he’d never laughed out loud like this before!
We climbed into the sedan under shouting trumpets and drumbeats. Samuel rode along, tossing wedding coins to the crowd who scrambled below.
I sat inside listening to the laughter outside, and smiled without meaning to.
After the vows and the guests’ cheers, the veil was lifted. Samuel in his ceremonial clothes had finally tied up his usually loose hair. He looked at me with shining eyes.
Had he always been this handsome?
My gaze flicked toward Alexander Hayes. He looked at me with a flash of admiration—brief, and I felt nothing.
Hazel Bennett stood beside him, eyes red as if about to cry. I…didn’t cry.
Suddenly the world went red as the veil was dropped again.
A man’s voice hissed in my ear, gritted and jealous: “Looking at someone else in front of me? You’ll be in trouble, little miss.”
I smiled—he could get jealous?
Back in the bridal chamber, I lifted the veil, starving after a day without food. I was about to sneak a petite cake from my sleeve when someone called outside, “Hey—young lord, why leaving so soon? Keep drinking!”
Samuel snarled back, “Drink yourself. Marrying a wife isn’t easy, go away.”
I froze.
He rushed in, sat down, and lifted the veil.
I forced down the cake bite.
Samuel watched with a helpless smile, “Come on, drink the nuptial wine together. Don’t choke.”
I leaned over to drink. June, Lily, May, and Iris slipped away while I drank. When I finished and looked up, it was just Samuel and me, our eyes locked.
"Huh?
Why did they leave? I haven't eaten yet."
Samuel Whitaker looked at my flushed face from the wine and frowned. "Lord Chancellor, ahem—father-in-law! Or—nanny, didn't they give you some little book?"
I frowned, thinking. I did get one last life—back then I accidentally spilled tea on it so the ink ran. I could make out a couple of people tangled up fighting.
I had been exposed for framing Hazel Bennett; on my wedding day I didn't even see Alexander Hayes, and later I barely saw him at all. Getting to share a meal counted as a blessing.
This time the cover looked the same as last life’s, so I didn't open it. I was reading a novel at the time and then forgot about it.
When he asked, I blinked. "That little book about the two people fighting? I read it already—what about it?"
Samuel choked a little at my answer, then after two seconds shook his head and smiled helplessly. "You really are hopeless."
I blinked in confusion. You have to learn martial arts to get married?
That sounded impossible.
Samuel looked up at me, a light I couldn't read shining in his eyes. His voice went hoarse. "It's fine. I'm patient—I can teach you slowly—"
I scrunched my face, annoyed. "You mean I have to learn? Can't I just not?"
Samuel swung his leg over and straddled me, pinning me to the bed. He smoothed my cheek. "You must."
I felt hot and tugged at my collar without thinking. His expression grew serious; his gaze darkened and for a moment I was kind of scared. I shifted. "Um, what are you carrying in your pants? It's… kind of painful…"
He leaned down slowly until his face was an inch from mine and grabbed my hand. "Claire?"
My face burned. Nobody calls me that nickname but Father and my oldest brother. Him calling me that was—shameful.
"Don't call me that!" I shoved at him. Being this close made me dizzy with nerves.
"Claire—"
His voice dropped even lower, and then—huh?
Both of his hands started wandering over me.
I twisted awkwardly.
"Hey? Why are you taking off my clothes??"
"Hey? Where are your hands going??"
"Ow, ow, ow! It hurts!"
– remaining content loading – "Claire—wake up—"
The voice in my ear pulled me back awake. I turned over with a frown and felt someone's hand moving over me again. I had to open my eyes and grab the hand. I pouted: "I'm not learning anymore! I've been practicing all night! It hurts!"
My whole body ached. Looking at the purple marks, this was not martial arts—I'd been tricked. I wanted to go ask Father or my brother, but how could I even explain this?
How do you even say it? Samuel Whitaker tricked me into "training" and ended up fondling me and using who-knows-what—cough cough.
Samuel had inched even closer; his hands kneaded over me and he murmured in my ear, "I've waited so long—this isn't nearly enough—"
I grabbed that hand and tried to struggle. When did he get so strong? I remembered being able to punch him into next week when we were kids!
In the end I failed and was made to "practice" again. I was miserable.
Watching the bed curtains sway, I felt like I might die from training alone. This marriage thing was brutal.
That honeymoon night I felt the weight of it, and after sharing a bed with Samuel for a month, I decided to go hide in a temple for a few days.
No—saying I went to the temple to pray for peace or the wellbeing of the world would be a lie. I went to find some peace, maybe to see an old friend.
(the princes fighting over the throne: We're losing hair over this and you're talking about happiness?) Anyway, with Samuel looking all forlorn, I happily packed, took Lily, June, Maya, and Iris, and ran to Lotus Life Temple.
Lotus Life was the foremost temple in the Northern Province. Legend said the first abbot had no parents, born from the lotus pool in the rear mountain—untainted by the mud, pure in the clear water; gentle and upright.
A century later, his spirit didn't pass on but lingered in the temple to help those fated to see him. If you were lucky, he'd grant you a wish.
Legend even said the founder of our dynasty, Emperor Wen, had met that first abbot back when Lotus Life was a shabby hut and pledged to save the people—then became the True Dragon Son.
When I was a child, I thought it was a ghost story. Picture it: black night, wind in the trees, you alone in a ruined hill-side shrine and some unknown spirit pops up saying they'll grant you a wish. Terrifying. If it were me I'd bolt and become a spirit on the spot.
After two hours of jostling along, we finally arrived. Climbing the tall stone steps made my legs tremble; halfway up I felt half-dead. Falling would be a one-way trip.
At the gate a little monk with rosy lips and white teeth came to greet me. He looked about ten but radiated a calmness beyond his years.
He led me to the guestroom and bowed. I returned his bow and patted his head.
Young monk: "…"
Me: "…"
An awkward silence. My sudden maternal impulse had gotten the better of me, so I pulled out a small pouch of preserved fruit I'd bought but not eaten.
"Do you want this?" I asked.
The little monk's serene expression faltered; his eyes glistened strangely. "Thank you, benefactor—no, I shouldn't—"
He stared at the treat and mumbled. I shrugged and tucked it into his arms. "Take it—"
"Then… little monk will accept it!"
He snatched it and ran off cheerfully. Watching his retreating figure, a smile tugged at my lips.
That little monk was Ting Zhu. In my previous life when I was kept at the temple, he was the one who brought my meals.
The monks never treated me badly; it was my daily self-pity and bad temper that drove away those who brought me food. Seeing them leave made me feel smug—like I was getting revenge on Alexander Hayes. It was pathetic but satisfying.
Then they gave me a kid as company and my interest waned. I couldn't stand being confined, so I sulked in a corner and cried like a lunatic.
Seeing me always crying and refusing food, Ting Zhu gave me a preserved fruit and told me about his father dying—how his mother would give him a piece when he cried and it made him miss his father less.
I sneered, thinking a kid like him couldn't possibly understand my suffering. Sorry—I was short-sighted. I truly believed I was the most miserable person alive and didn't know that single pouch of preserved fruit took him three months to buy.
I tossed the fruit away and shoved him out the door. But then, enraged, I turned to scold him and saw him pick up the fruit from the ground, dust it off, and put it in his mouth.
To be honest, even if I considered myself the world's most unfortunate, I still had food and comforts. Seeing him eat something he'd literally picked up shook my pampered worldview.
The next day I gave him a big bag of preserved fruit. His single-lidded little eyes trembled with joy; his eyes were wet as he gobbled it down and ran—carrying the food he'd brought me. Shit.
After that he became my little scapegoat, trembling as he led me around the temple. I learned not everyone wore silk.
I learned those plain-looking robes weren't that shabby; for many ordinary people, they were decent clothing.
I learned the temple rice was brown rice mixed with some odd, scratchy stuff inedibly named.
I learned Hazel Bennett had been right when she said I was wasteful and ignorant of the people's hardships.
I learned some couldn't afford a one-ounce silver medicine and came to the temple for help.
That year I saw things I hadn't in my previous twenty years. Too bad it didn't last—when I left I was taken straight to the execution platform and died trying to snatch a blade empty-handed.
Otherwise, maybe I could have quietly divorced Alexander Hayes and freed my father who'd taken the blame for me. Though my father's death was tangled up with political calculations—someone thought killing him would make the emperor believe he wasn't vying for the throne. Complicated. Alexander disliked me so much he couldn't hide his disgust; if not for some unknown reason, he might've had me "snapped."
Temple life was plain, boring, and steady. I couldn't help but glance at Corinne.
Okay fine, little Ting Zhu, you were an extra—my real reason was to see Corinne.
My feelings were complicated. Over ten years of closeness, she had become more than a friend—like family. I had no sisters, so we whispered secrets.
She had indulged and pampered me like an older sister. I didn't believe any of it was fake.
I climbed up on a wall and watched her in plain clothes kneel and chant before the shrine. I retracted my head quietly. It was hard to reconcile the glamorous woman she used to be with this calm, desireless figure.
I must owe her plenty. I hoped we'd never meet again, yet I missed the old version of her.
I'm not stupid, just not brilliant. Samuel met my brother, and then my brother immediately broke off the engagement—there had to be more to it. I couldn't believe there wasn't.
Samuel must have been watching me for a long time, keeping tabs on those around me. He always pretended to be a lazy good-for-nothing, but I knew when he sneaked out at night—I just didn't ask.
If the old Marquis's merits hid the truth, and a talented young Whitaker drew the emperor's eye, the throne might get restless. Families like the Hayes were the same: whenever suspicion came, the emperor would go with the tide—execute, and then put on a show of grief.
I lay in a soft chair watching the candle flame, thinking back to last life. Samuel had sided with Alexander Hayes and been dragged into court struggles—was that because of me? If so, if I hadn't been killed by Alexander then maybe the unknown reason I survived was because of Samuel.
Thinking of his lazy, fearless second-son demeanor made me ache for him and hurt for him at the same time.
I must have broken his heart last time.
Realizing that, it hit me: I love him this much already.
"Hey, hey—only three days apart and you already miss me enough to cry?"
That familiar voice froze me for a second. Seeing the man hurriedly wiping my tears right in front of me, I couldn't help wrapping my arms around him and blurting, "I love you so much—"
Why is it that whenever I need you, you're always by my side?
Samuel Whitaker stiffened at my confession; his mind went blank for a beat. He'd always assumed Claire Bennett married him out of convenience.
So she felt the same as him?
His grip tightened without him thinking, pulling the small figure in his arms closer. In a voice meant only for her, he whispered, "Me too—this life and the last."
Special epilogue dropped in the column. More sickly-sweet treats await—come and indulge!
