Chapter 8: Cotton Rose

                    

In this life, Jiang Xuening had originally not planned to ever cross paths with Zhou Yinzhi again.

But now—suddenly encountering Xie Wei—she had no choice but to protect herself.

Though Zhou Yinzhi was petty, the advantage of dealing with petty men was simple: as long as profit was involved, one could walk the same path and each take what they needed.

Earlier, when she had used a copy of Youxue Qionglin as an “account book” to intimidate her servants, that scene had likely already been observed by Xie Wei. Even if it wasn’t deeply calculating, it certainly couldn’t be dismissed as “not intelligent.”

In her previous life, she truly had no scheming heart.

At fifteen, confused and terrified, she had been thrust into the capital, uncertain of the parents awaiting her. Then came the Heavenly Doctrine rebellion, the wilderness, and Xie Wei—her heart filled with fear and anxiety. How could she have pondered the deeper meaning of words spoken in illness?

She had heard them, but truly forgotten.

Later, wracking her memory, she could only recall fragments: “Shen Lang’s character is unequal to great responsibility” and “The common people are human, and so is the Son of Heaven.”

Even so, Xie Wei had tested her three times before letting it go. Now, four years later, after seeing her actions today, he might suspect she remembered everything, only feigning ignorance to survive.

The courtyard was hushed. Slender branches hung from the trellis, sunlight slanting westward like crimson gauze across the corridor.

Jiang Xuening sat beneath it, forcing herself to calm.

Three paths lay before her:

First, continue pretending to be foolish. She had already pushed blame onto Yan Lin, claiming he taught her everything. If she killed someone and said Yan Lin did it, he would admit it.

Second, pledge allegiance to Xie Wei. The devil cloaked in sage’s robes had been the great victor of her previous life. Aside from the Xiao clan, the imperial family, and rebels, he was not bloodthirsty. But what did she have to offer? Yan Lin had armies, You Fangyin had wealth. She had nothing.

Third, oppose Xie Wei head-on. She knew his greatest secret, his schemes, and possessed foresight from rebirth. But he was Imperial Tutor, and she was merely a young lady. His intelligence was alive; her knowledge was dead. Could she truly defeat him?

Every road seemed a dead end.

And yet—there was a fourth path.

No matter how formidable Xie Wei was, he was still a man. In her previous life, she had used charm to sway men. Could she try to ensnare him?

But the thought chilled her. She remembered that night in goose-yellow silk, painted alluringly, carrying stew to the Western Warm Pavilion. Xie Wei had looked up, eyes darkening, brow lifting imperceptibly. He had smiled faintly: “Your Majesty, please have some self-respect.”

Humiliation had burned her then. Even now, recalling it made her want to dig a pit and bury herself.

No—before Xie Wei, such thoughts were suicide.

Thus, only the first and second paths remained.

Seeing Zhou Yinzhi became crucial. Whether for the looming Yongyi Marquis case or simply to gain bargaining chips, she needed him.

But before Tang’er returned, an older servant arrived, bowing. “Madam heard the Master called your servants for beating. She asks Second Miss to come explain.”

It was Meng Shi’s summons.

Jiang Xuening’s heart was still in turmoil. She wanted Zhou Yinzhi, not Meng Shi. Displeasure flickered across her face. She answered coldly, “I know. I’ll go now.”

Meng Shi sat with Jiang Xuehui when Jiang Xuening arrived.

She bowed perfunctorily. “This daughter pays respects to Mother.” Her voice was indifferent, ignoring Xuehui entirely.

Meng Shi frowned. “Rise. What happened today that you made such a commotion?”

Jiang Xuening replied evenly, “They had been undisciplined for long. Today they grew presumptuous. Yesterday I mentioned it to Yan Lin, and he taught me a method. So I acted. If this disturbed Mother, it is my fault.”

She spoke Yan Lin’s name directly, unlike others who called him “Young Marquis.” It revealed how much he indulged her.

Meng Shi’s brows furrowed deeper. Yan Lin was reckless, bold. Ever since Jiang Xuening met him, she dressed as a man, caroused, and the household had to cover for her.

Meng Shi said sternly, “Tolerance is not indulgence. For a young lady to not return home all night—if word spreads, it implicates your sister. How does this place her?”

Her words were reasonable. But Jiang Xuening clenched her palms, lowering her eyes. “Mother is right. This daughter will be more careful.”

Meng Shi slammed her teacup, about to scold further.

Jiang Xuehui quickly intervened, grasping her hand. “Mother, younger sister is maturing. She managed her servants today. If Heir Yan makes her better, why worry? If her marriage is prestigious, it benefits us all.”

Jiang Xuening thought coldly: it was only because she caught Wang Xingjia’s wife stealing. Yet Xuehui twisted it to her advantage.

Meng Shi relented, waving dismissively. “Fine. Your father will decide. Go back. You needn’t pay respects tonight.”

“Yes.” Jiang Xuening bowed and withdrew.

Outside, the sunset clouds blazed. Beneath the western wall, cotton roses bloomed pink and vivid.

A flower fell, striking her head. She caught it instinctively, looking up.

Yan Lin sat boldly atop the wall, black robe belted, sword at his side, smiling. “Today’s lecture ended early, but the Emperor detained me. The day after tomorrow is the Double Ninth Festival. There will be a lantern festival. I want to take you to see it.”

The glow lit the flowers—and his cheek.

Jiang Xuening was dazzled, momentarily lost.

Then she realized: the Double Ninth lantern festival. In her previous life, Grand Princess Leyang Shen Zhiyi had left the palace with Shen Jie, encountered her dressed as a man, and fallen in love…

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