From the wide-open door, Qi Yue could see the two maids in the courtyard, using iron rakes to clear the fallen leaves and dry branches washed down by the rain, careful not to block the drain spouts. They spoke in hushed tones; one reminded the other not to get her feet wet, while the other directed this one to scoop from this side. Their gentle voices, coupled with their attire, made them resemble figures in an ink wash painting set against the classical courtyard after the rain—fresh and elegantly simple.

The one applying makeup was named A’ru, and the one combing hair was her younger sister, A’hao—two easily memorable names, it seemed.

Qi Yue sighed. Things were already as they were; she would have to take things one step at a time.

Lost in her thoughts, she suddenly noticed A’ru and A’hao entering with trays of food.

One bowl of thin gruel. Qi Yue swirled the spoon; it was millet.

A round flatbread, about the size of a palm. Qi Yue broke it open by hand; it was made from unleavened dough.

The vegetable dish—what was this? It looked similar to the roots of large winter-pickled cabbage. Qi Yue poked at it with her chopsticks. Looking at the other dish, it appeared to be meat, but it seemed to have been simply boiled in water, utterly flavorless.

She had maids serving her, was addressed as ‘Young Mistress,’ and a large retinue of servants had been present just moments ago. Despite their somewhat strange attitudes, this was clearly a wealthy household, judging by the furnishings and attire.

“This is what we get to eat?” Qi Yue couldn’t help but ask.

This was worse than the cafeteria food at the chronically underfunded local rural health clinic.

“Young Mistress, the monthly stipend hasn’t arrived yet…” A’ru murmured, lowering her head.

Qi Yue gave an ‘oh,’ realizing that with her sudden arrival, immediate concerns about food and drink should be set aside. She wasn’t sure if this was breakfast or lunch, but based on her body clock, it should be time for dinner.

“Then I’ll eat,” she said with a smile.

The two maids breathed a sigh of relief, mixed with surprise. This time, the Eldest Young Mistress hadn't thrown a tantrum or wept upon hearing the news; instead, she began eating heartily with a cheerful smile. When the two maids saw the dishes completely cleaned out, they couldn't help but stare at the Eldest Young Mistress in astonishment.

“Wastefulness is shameful,” Qi Yue stated seriously.

Regardless of what the original owner’s appetite or habits were, she, Qi Yue, had this appetite and these habits. She wasn’t going to pretend; she was no longer the same person, and deception wouldn't last. It was better to use the excuse of amnesia and a changed personality.

A’ru and A’hao didn’t quite grasp the meaning of her words, but as servants, they were accustomed to listening without questioning. They nodded in agreement.

“You two go eat first. Come back afterward; I have something to discuss with you,” Qi Yue instructed.

Noticing her solemn expression, A’ru and A’hao grew uneasy. They didn’t dare ask further and hastily cleared the dishes before leaving.

They returned shortly after; Qi Yue wasn't sure if they had eaten yet.

Qi Yue remained seated, her expression becoming even more grave as they approached, which only served to heighten the maids' anxiety.

“I need to tell you something,” Qi Yue began. “Today, I hanged myself…”

“Young Mistress, we were only speaking nonsense! The Young Mistress has never done such a thing…” A’ru immediately knelt, weeping.

A’hao followed suit and knelt beside her.

Qi Yue looked helpless. She hadn’t even finished her sentence, yet these two girls were jumping to conclusions.

“I did it, and I truly died,” she continued, ignoring their words.

A’ru and A’hao looked up at her in astonishment, then their tears flowed even harder.

“…In fact, I even drank the Meng Po soup. I can’t recall anything—how I died, how I walked the path to the Yellow Springs, whether I saw King Yama—nothing remains. I only remember wandering vaguely, unsure where I was going or what I was meant to do…” Qi Yue stopped them from speaking again and continued, her gaze fixed outside the door, seemingly immersed in memory.

A’ru and A’hao gradually stopped crying, watching her with faces etched with shock, wonder, and a touch of fear. They were listening now. Accompanied by Qi Yue’s deliberately lowered tone, the two maids instinctively huddled closer together.

“…I walked and walked, and suddenly…” Qi Yue paused abruptly.

A’hao, being younger, let out an involuntary gasp, then quickly covered her mouth, sensing her impropriety, and bowed to beg forgiveness.

Qi Yue was rather amused by this and waved her hand, indicating it was fine.

“Suddenly, I saw someone. A… well, an old woman beckoning to me,” she continued, shifting to a softer tone this time. “I was senseless then, without awareness or thought, and just walked past her. She looked at me and wept, saying many things I couldn’t understand…”

“What did she say?” A’ru, being the bolder one, couldn't help but ask.

“Something like, ‘Silly child, why are you here? What was the point of this hardship?’” Qi Yue frowned, mimicking the effort of remembering. And indeed, she was trying hard to recall. As she tried, thoughts of how agonizing it must be to lose her own loved ones surfaced, and tears instantly streamed down her face. “…I couldn’t recognize who she was, but I felt she was someone incredibly, incredibly close to me…”

Hearing this, A’ru’s expression shifted slightly, and she straightened her posture.

“Was… was it the Old Madam?” she stammered, asking the question.

The Old Madam? Qi Yue shook her head.

“I told you, I drank the Meng Po soup. I forgot everything, including… you all,” she sighed, wiping away a tear.

“Ah? Young Mistress, you… you don’t recognize us anymore?” A’hao asked, utterly stunned.

Qi Yue nodded.

“That old woman held me back. She cried, and I cried. Then I asked where I should go. She said I naturally should go back. Having already forgotten where I came from, before I could ask anything more, she gave me a push, and then I woke up,” she finished in one breath. “When I awoke, I saw a large group of you rushing in. I thought I was still in the underworld, that you had come to hold me accountable—I was terrified.”

A’ru and A’hao nodded. They recalled how, during that first meeting, the Young Mistress had also cried out 'ghosts!' and her look of fright hadn't seemed feigned… So that was it.

But… this was too much…

A’ru and A’hao were speechless for a moment, sitting frozen on the floor. Qi Yue remained silent, waiting for them to process it. The wait was not long.

“So, the Young Mistress remembers nothing of her past life?” A’ru asked.

Qi Yue inwardly breathed a sigh of relief and nodded.

“You two can get up now,” she said.

A’ru helped A’hao up, and they both rose.

“Young Mistress truly doesn’t remember A’hao?” A’hao pointed to her own face and asked.

“Forget about you two; I don’t even remember myself,” Qi Yue replied.

“Oh, that Meng Po soup is really that powerful…” A’hao exclaimed in awe.

“Of course, it’s powerful. Otherwise, how could reincarnation work if you carried memories of your past life? It would ruin everything,” Qi Yue explained, thinking that the ancients likely believed deeply in these concepts, making them easier to persuade.

If not, the mortal world would descend into chaos. The two maids thought about it and nodded in unison.

“So, to conclude,” Qi Yue let out a breath and leaned back in her chair, “I have essentially been reincarnated. Although I don’t know why that old woman pushed me back, since I am back, I must live well. It’s perhaps better not to know the past; starting anew is clean.”

Recalling the past, A’ru started to cry again; perhaps forgetting was for the best.

“So don’t worry about me. I absolutely will not seek death again,” Qi Yue said to her with a smile.

A’ru nodded through her tears.

“Young Mistress… you don’t remember anyone in our household, then?” A’ru asked quietly after a moment of thought.

Qi Yue smiled subtly.

“There’s nothing to hide. Whether they believe it or not, my conscience is clear,” she stated.

A’ru understood her meaning and nodded in assent.

A’hao, however, hadn't understood the exchange, but the thought that the Young Mistress didn’t recognize her made her very sad. She earnestly introduced herself to Qi Yue, while Qi Yue began inquiring about the things she had supposedly “forgotten.” Compared to the steady A’ru, A’hao was more lively and talkative, and Qi Yue quickly learned about the former self’s history from her.

Qi Yue Niang, a native of Yan Capital in the Great Qing Kingdom. Qi Yue interrupted to ask what the Great Qing Kingdom was, but the answer was simply that the Great Qing Kingdom was the Great Qing Kingdom, so Qi Yue gave up asking.

This Qi Yue Niang’s parents had both died early. She and her grandmother fled together to Yong’an Prefecture, taking refuge at the foot of Peach Blossom Mountain, ten li outside the prefecture city. At the age of fourteen—five years ago—she happened to save the Old Madam of Marquis Dingxi, who had been bitten by a venomous snake while climbing the mountain to offer incense. After her grandmother accidentally fell to her death from a cliff, the Old Madam of Marquis Dingxi, seeing that she was orphaned and alone and in gratitude for saving her life, brought her into the manor and personally raised her, providing her with the same treatment as the young ladies of the household. Later, an imperial request secured her engagement to the eldest son of Marquis Dingxi. Three years ago, when the Old Madam was gravely ill, she advanced the wedding date so she could personally witness the couple’s ceremony; right after the newlyweds bowed, the Old Madam closed her eyes.

This sounded like the most ridiculously melodramatic, legendary tale imaginable. Qi Yue Niang, an orphaned girl, had leaped to become the eldest grandson’s wife in the Marquis Dingxi manor, the future Marquise. This was undoubtedly the most glittering case of a sparrow turning into a phoenix. Except, it seemed the prince and princess did not live happily ever after…

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