The autumn rain seemed endless, falling in a steady drizzle.
Beneath the long pavilion, an old woman and a young married woman chatted over tea.
"What does Shao Cheng see in this sickly weakling?" the young woman asked, glancing disdainfully at the soiled white figure on the ground.
"Just a vixen," the old woman replied after taking a sip of tea. "Shao Cheng has no experience, so it's normal for her to be smitten. But she fainted after kneeling for only half an hour. She'll likely be short-lived."
The young woman sighed, "If it were just a concubine, it wouldn't be so unacceptable."
The old woman tutted, "She's the legitimate daughter of the Marquis of Zhennan."
"Look, she's awake."
Song Qingchao opened her eyes to find herself sprawled in a puddle of mud. She exhaled a puff of warm air, her vision blurred and unclear.
Pavilions and towers, ponds and waterside terraces.
Had she not died?
For a moment, she was dazed, as if transported back to the time when she accompanied her father back to the imperial court and entrusted herself to the Feng family.
Her first meeting with Feng Shao Cheng was right here.
That one meeting led to a lifetime of regret.
On the night of her wedding, he handed her over to the enemy king, subjecting her to endless humiliation, trampling over the corpses of her father and brothers as she entered enemy territory.
Perhaps it was heaven's pity, or a reward for a beauty that could topple a city, that granted her a chance to relive her life.
Song Qingchao coughed softly and pushed herself up, her slender hand pressing into the icy mud.
The jade bracelet on her wrist was still there, emitting a faint, shimmering green glow amidst the murky darkness.
Her fingers traced the jade bracelet, thankfully, her spatial dimension was still intact.
It just wasn't as bright as it was in the fire.
If this dimension hadn't endangered her life, she wouldn't have been so timid in her previous life.
Song Qingchao shakily stood up. Her body was already frail, and her steps were now unsteady.
But two elderly women stepped forward to grab her.
"Let go of me!" Song Qingchao shouted, but she couldn't catch her breath, gasping for air.
A pair of embroidered golden shoes appeared before her. She looked up and saw a face strikingly similar to Feng Shao Cheng's.
A palm-sized face topped with deep-set eyes.
This person held an umbrella and a handkerchief, feigning a delicate disposition.
"Miss Song, you are so precious, why must you follow our Young Master Shao Cheng to suffer?"
"Suffer?" Song Qingchao, using all her strength, broke free from the women's grip. "Then I shall not suffer this fate. Madam Feng, I bid you farewell."
She turned to leave, but was stopped again.
"Hey, what do you mean by this?" Madam Feng asked, her heart aching as she rubbed the damp Shu brocade. "Our Young Master Shao Cheng has visited three times to propose, how can you turn away so quickly?"
Song Qingchao lowered her gaze and replied calmly, "This humble girl is merely eager to return home."
"Eager? Don't forget, you were the one begging us today." Madam Feng pinched her voice, her tone twisting and turning. "If Shao Cheng didn't favor you, we certainly wouldn't permit it."
Song Qingchao gazed at her faintly, "Then do not permit it."
In her past life, she was trapped in the Feng household. By the time she returned home, everything had been turned upside down. Her mother was dead, her brother crippled. All that remained for her was a blood-stained imperial decree.
"The Marquis of Zhennan, Song Baitong, has colluded with the enemy and attempted rebellion. He should be executed along with his entire clan. However, in consideration of his meritorious service in pacifying the southern barbarians, his family's death sentence is commuted, and they are to be exiled to the frigid lands, forbidden to return to An for eternity."
What a traitor.
Her entire family had died for loyalty and filial piety, so how could there be "treason"?
If she hadn't held back tens of thousands of Northern barbarian soldiers in the end, Da Yuan would have fallen long ago!
So, in this life, what if she truly became a traitor?
However, nothing was more important than returning home.
Song Qingchao bowed and tried to bypass Madam Feng.
But the woman did not move aside. Instead, she blocked her path with a smile, "Miss Song, the Feng family is now a new noble house. What do you take us for?"
"Oh, really?" Song Qingchao raised her expressionless face, but her eyes seemed to hold knives as she glanced at Madam Feng. "Have you finished speaking, Madam Feng? This humble girl is frail. If I catch a cold in your residence and fall unconscious upon returning home, will my father blame your esteemed household?"
Madam Feng involuntarily took a step back, her eyes darting away, yet she still held her chin high, feigning composure.
"Please step aside," Song Qingchao's gaze grew colder.
She had grown up in a military camp. Despite her delicate and frail appearance, the awe-inspiring aura she possessed was forged through iron and war.
In her previous life, she had lingered, unwilling to leave. In this life, why were they preventing her departure?
Could it be that the Feng family was involved in the downfall of her household?
Thinking carefully, after the Marquis of Zhennan's mansion fell, the Feng residence prospered. The Feng family, traditionally scholars, even produced a valiant general. This was indeed strange.
But she could not ponder this now. She did not know the exact time when her family's affairs would unfold.
She had to hurry!
But as she moved, a sharp pain pierced her brow.
Madam Feng's sharp fingernails poked at her forehead, one after another, digging deeper. "Your mud-legged father is illiterate. It is your fortune that our Young Master Shao Cheng fancies you. You should cherish it."
Cherish?
Song Qingchao raised an eyebrow, then grabbed the fingertip poking her forehead and gently snapped it.
With a crisp crack, Madam Feng's wailing screams echoed.
Song Qingchao threw her to the ground and looked down at the delicate woman clutching her hand to her chest and crying. "You can speak ill of me, but my father pacified the southern barbarians, struck fear into the enemy, and was made a marquis in his youth. His honor cannot be tarnished by you!"
The two old women by the side tried to step forward.
She snatched the umbrella from one of the women's hands and used it as a sword, her movements both soft and powerful, striking them again and again. "This prosperous Chang'an was bought with the lives of my father and the soldiers. It is not for you to be so presumptuous!"
Song Qingchao did not spare another glance at the three figures on the ground. She dropped the broken umbrella and turned to leave.
From a distance, she heard Madam Feng, sobbing in the mud pit, angrily call her a "sickly weakling" and a "country bumpkin."
She covered her chest and let out a sneer.
If not for using her heart's blood to nurture the spatial dimension within her, how could she be so frail?
Even with meticulous care, and years of martial arts practice, her body still suffered damage.
By chance, she found a way to transfer the spatial dimension to someone else, which gave her some relief.
But what was poison to one was a delicacy to another.
This dimension became a slow poison for others, taking their lives within days.
Unexpectedly, as she left the courtyard, she stumbled into someone's arms.
"Chao Chao, why are you all wet?"
This voice belonged to Feng Shao Cheng.
Song Qingchao's heart ached intensely. She waved her hands, trying to break free from the embrace.
She was disgusted!
"Shall I help you change into some clean clothes?"
Feng Shao Cheng bent down, his concern evident, his tone gentle, yet his words brooks no argument. "When the rain stops, I'll send someone to escort you back."
"Shao Cheng," Song Qingchao finally pulled her hands free, stepping back, her eyes warily fixed on him. "No, thank you."
He stepped forward, she retreated.
"Chao Chao, be obedient."
His eyes were clear, but his smiling demeanor sent a shiver down Song Qingchao's spine.
"Why are you avoiding me? I'm not going to eat you, am I?"