Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Hey, girl, not to nag you, but why seek death at such a young age?"

The tractor rumbled along the narrow country road as the woman in the passenger seat peppered her with advice.

Wen Zhi, dressed in a loose gray T-shirt and clutching a bag of fancy headdress and jewelry she had just changed out of, sat atop a pile of golden wheat stalks, bouncing with every rut in the road. She nodded while pressing down on the straw hat atop her head, her eyes brimmed with happy tears.

She’d really made it back to modern times.

Only, it was now 2022—a full twelve years since the year she had fallen into the water.

Back then, she had been in her second year of middle school, on an autumn outing with her classmates, when she took a spill into this same pond and got sent back in time. What used to be a small wooded area had since been cleared and planted with golden wheat, and the pond she had fallen into had become a fish pond.

Though the land looked different now, she was back.

And it wasn’t winter anymore—it was the height of summer, just as the wheat was ripening. The wind blew, and everything was so bright it hurt to look.

Seeing her tears streaming down, the woman on the tractor couldn’t help but offer advice: "Tell me what’s troubling you. If we can help, we will. Don’t do anything drastic."

The driver side-eyed his wife. "If she doesn’t want to talk, don’t push her."

Wen Zhi’s vision blurred with tears as she murmured, "Thank you," then added, "I’m over it now." She truly hadn’t expected to return after all these years.

A death sentence, reversed.

She clenched the longevity lock (a traditional good-luck charm) in her palm—Mu Mu must have returned too.

She had searched the pond’s edge but found no trace of him. Maybe he had landed somewhere else.

The most urgent thing now was to go home and ask her parents for help.

In the modern world, the Wen family was old-money elite, a powerhouse family. Her parents had only her, their beloved daughter, doted on since childhood, their pride and joy…

Nervousness crept in the closer she got to home. After more than a decade, everyone must have thought she was dead. Forgotten her. Or perhaps they had other children now?

The couple drove the tractor to the nearest bus stop and shoved some spare change into her hands.

Just as Wen Zhi was about to thank them, a three-pound grass carp plopped into her hands. The fish, strung on a rope, was still flopping, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on her.

Dressed in a T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops, a straw hat on her head, carrying a fish in one hand and a woven bag in the other—anyone else in this getup would have looked like a hick. But her fair skin and long, ink-black hair made her look like she’d stepped off a runway.

Noble Consort Wen, holding the fish, wasn’t sure what to make of this.

"You guys are too much!"

The woman was effusive. "Nonsense! If you hadn’t belly-flopped and stunned two fish, we wouldn’t have caught anything all day. We kept the bigger one—honestly, we came out ahead. No need to fuss, go home and make some fish soup to settle your stomach."

As the bus pulled up, the woman pushed her aboard. "Hurry, hurry, or you’ll miss it!"

Wen Zhi boarded with the fish in hand. The few passengers on the bus turned to stare—likely unaccustomed to such an outfit—their gazes lingering, and even a couple of students surreptitiously snapped photos of her.

She didn’t mind. Finding a seat, she sat down with the fish, letting them stare their fill.

The closer the bus got to the city center, the more passengers boarded, and every single one couldn’t help but stare at Wen Zhi the moment they stepped on.

She was simply too eye-catching—both for her unusual attire and her striking beauty.

In the midday sun, Wen Zhi, still under the curious gazes of the crowd, stepped off the bus, still clutching the fish.

Twelve years had passed since she was last here, and the roads and scenery had changed drastically. After asking for directions and walking for over half an hour, she finally arrived near her family’s ancestral home.

The Wen family’s ancestral home, passed down through generations, was the sole property in an upscale district, occupying a vast area. The walls of the estate were covered in large, blooming roses—her mother’s favorite flowers.

Wen Zhi’s eyes reddened once more as she carried the fish toward the main gate.

A commotion broke out at the entrance, accompanied by the sound of scuffling footsteps moving outward. Wen Zhi didn’t rush forward but stopped to observe.

A minute later, the gate swung open, and a middle-aged couple, along with a young, fashionable woman in stilettos, were forced out.

The middle-aged woman, unwilling to accept this, pushed against the door with all her might, trying to wedge half her body back inside while cursing, “You wretched old man! Who do you think you are, acting so high and mighty? How dare you kick us out! Open the door! Open it! We had a deal that if Wen Zhi didn’t return in two years, the Wen family’s assets would go to us. If you don’t open up now, we’ll call the police!”

The middle-aged man didn’t push the door, but his tone was threatening. “Uncle Zhong, we’re only holding back out of respect for your years of service to the Wen family. My brother and his wife are dead and gone, and Wen Zhi died over a decade ago. It’s inappropriate for you to keep occupying the Wen estate.”

With a loud bang, the gate was yanked open. Butler Zhong, his hair half-gray and his frame lean, strode out wielding a broom, swinging it at the trio as his voice trembled with fury. “Lies! The young mistress lives! I promised the master I’d wait for her return. Keep your hands off her inheritance!”

Zhou Li, Wen Zhi’s second aunt, was caught off guard when the broom smacked her in the face. She shrieked, then snapped, “Wen Zhi is dead!” Who knew what had gotten into her brother-in-law back then? After searching for so long without finding her, he stubbornly refused to report her missing. Even in death, he left a will bequeathing all the Wen family’s assets to her.

And he had that old fool Butler Zhong stay in the Wen estate as the estate’s custodian.

By law, if an heir remained missing for two years without being found, the inheritance could pass to the next in line.

Apart from their branch of the family, there were no other heirs left in the Wen family.

Butler Zhong, who had been cold and composed moments ago, suddenly grew agitated, his voice rising. “The young mistress isn’t dead! The master’s heir can only be her. Tomorrow marks two years—not a single hour sooner will I sign anything. Give up on this delusion of yours!” When the master was gravely ill, they hadn’t cared at all—only eyed the fortune. Butler Zhong’s heart had turned to ice.

He’d sworn to the master as he lay dying that he would wait for the young mistress’s return.

But Uncle Zhong was no match for them. After just a few swings of the broom, Wen Jinyuan, Wen Zhi’s second uncle, grabbed him. “We’ve shown you respect, and you spit on it.” Losing patience, he raised his foot to kick Uncle Zhong in the stomach.

Wen Jinyuan was tall, slightly overweight, and in the prime of middle age. A kick from him would likely shatter Uncle Zhong’s frail bones.

But before his foot could land, something pale flashed through the air—something large and reeking of fish—slammed into the right side of his face. His portly frame swayed, his raised leg faltered, and he toppled backward, landing flat on his back.

The object that had hit him rolled a couple of times before flopping onto his face, its lifeless fish eyes glaring at him. Wen Jinyuan almost passed out right then.

“Husband!” Zhou Li screamed, immediately bending down to help him up.

The chic young woman, who had been standing quietly, didn’t rush to assist. Instead, she turned toward the direction the fish had come from.

To the right of the gate stood a young woman—straw hat, T-shirt, shorts, flip-flops—her slender arms pale and luminous, her jet-black hair framing a tear-streaked face that was both stunning and fierce.

Her drowsy, phoenix-shaped eyes locked onto the woman with a gaze full of sorrow, fury, and a thirst for revenge.

Wen Bingchun found that face unsettlingly familiar. When she noticed the bright red tear mole beneath the woman’s left eye, she recoiled in horror, her stiletto snapping under her.

The image of a drowning girl struggling in the water overlapped with the face before her.

Wen Bingchun blurted out, “Xiao Zhi!”

The name hit like a thunderclap. Both Wen Jinyuan and Zhou Li on the ground snapped their heads toward Wen Zhi.

The woman before them looked strikingly like their long-deceased sister-in-law, but she looked quite different from the young Wen Zhi of the past. How could this possibly be Wen Zhi?

Just as Wen Jinyuan and his wife were puzzled, Uncle Zhong, with broom in hand, approached teary-eyed and trembling: "Miss, Nuan Nuan, is it really you?" Uncle Zhong excitedly used her childhood nickname.

Wen Zhi gave a small nod, tears falling anew. She gently hugged Uncle Zhong, her voice choked with emotion: "Uncle Zhong, I'm back."

"Thank goodness you're back," Uncle Zhong said, wiping his tears and saying heaven had eyes.

Wen Jinyuan recovered from his shock, rubbing the back of his head as he stood up, scrutinizing Wen Zhi: "Uncle Zhong, your old eyes must be deceiving you. Wen Zhi is long dead. This woman might just be a lookalike imposter."

Zhou Li chimed in: "Right, this woman looks like some kind of temptress. How could she be my niece?" The Wen Zhi in her memory, though willful and playful, was extremely well-mannered and would never hit anyone.

Uncle Zhong retorted: "I’m not blind. She is Miss Nuan Nuan."

Wen Zhi patted his back, then stepped back and walked slowly toward Wen Bingchun with her broken high heel. Her seemingly gentle, smiling eyes pierced Wen Bingchun like knives.

"Cousin, when we left that day for the autumn outing, it was you who led me to the pond..."

Wen Bingchun immediately panicked: "Wen Zhi, what are you talking about? You were the one who followed me back then..." Her voice abruptly cut off.

Wen Zhi sneered: "Oh, maybe I remembered wrong."

Wen Bingchun was infuriated by her mocking expression.

Wen Zhi then turned to Zhou Li and Wen Jinyuan, "Uncle, Aunt, when we left that day, you told Cousin to take good care of me and even gave me a bag of snacks. Have you forgotten?"

The couple went pale.

Wen Zhi was the treasure of the Wen family. Wen Jinyuan, the second uncle, was a worthless man, given to every vice and relying on Wen Zhi’s father for support. Naturally, he had shown excessive "concern" for his niece—even more than for his own daughter.

"You can’t be Wen Zhi," Wen Jinyuan said stubbornly.

Wen Zhi said with a faint smile, her stunning face full of scorn: "This isn’t ancient times where blood tests can be faked. DNA doesn't lie. I’m registered and in the DNA database—just compare them and you’ll know."

"And if you don’t leave now, I’ll call the police and accuse you of plotting to kill me by pushing me into the water back then."

The Wen family trio stared at her in fear.

Wen Zhi extended her hand to Butler Zhong: "Uncle Zhong, the phone..."

Within a minute, the three Wens were gone in an instant.

Wen Zhi put away the phone, was quiet for a beat before asking, "Uncle Zhong, when did my parents pass?"

Butler Zhong burst into tears: "Madam died of grief the year after your accident. The master searched for you for years and passed away two years ago."

"Miss, you’ve finally returned... wuwuwu..." Butler Zhong began to wail.

Wen Zhi’s heart felt needle-sharp pain. She had imagined many outcomes, but never this one.

Having endured years of palace intrigue without shedding a tear, now she couldn't stop crying.

But she knew this wasn’t the time to cry. Wiping her tears, she took a deep breath: "Save the tears for later. First, help me find my son."

Butler Zhong stuttered: "...S-son?"

Wen Zhi nodded.

The next second, Butler Zhong collapsed to the ground, clutching her leg and wailing: "My poor Miss, were you trafficked to some backwater village to bear a child?" No wonder there had been no word from her all these years.

Author’s Note:

Wen Zhi: The imperial palace of ancient times was far more terrifying than any backwater village.