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  In the early autumn of the 31st year of Delong, the weather was warm and perfect for idle chatter.

  In the back courtyard of the Qin family’s third branch, a group of maids were gossiping about the second daughter of the main branch, who had been married for eight years.

  “On the very day of Old Madam Lu’s birthday banquet, countless guests saw the second miss and the steward together in bed! If it weren’t for the third miss pleading for her, the second miss would’ve lost her life on the spot. And have you heard? Young Master Feng isn’t even the second master’s biological son—he’s some illegitimate child of unknown origins. The second master is truly kind-hearted, giving the second miss and Feng a separate courtyard to live in. But heaven saw it all and delivered its retribution: Feng died of illness, and the second miss burned to death in a fire.”

  “Second master? Hah, we should start calling him third master soon.”

  Indeed, Lu Changxuan had originally married the second miss, but after her death—burned alive, no less—he was now set to marry the third miss. Wouldn’t that make him the third master? The maids ughed and added, “...Who in the Qin family doesn’t know about this?”

  “Not everyone knows,” one maid teased.

  “Who doesn’t?” the others asked, curiosity piqued.

  Feigning secrecy for a moment, the teasing maid finally relented with a chuckle. “The second miss, of course!”

  Realization dawned on the group. “Oh, right! Only our oh-so-clever second miss wouldn’t know!”

  Know what? That the second master had always preferred the third miss, not her? That as an illegitimate daughter, her entire life was doomed to be a tragedy?

  The courtyard echoed with mocking ughter.

  The second miss in question was Qin Yaoyao, the illegitimate daughter of the Qin family’s main branch. The third miss was Qin Feifei, the legitimate second daughter of the same branch. After Qin Yaoyao’s death, the widowed Qin Feifei was set to take her pce as the main wife of Lu Changxuan, a fifth-rank court official. For a woman widowed for several years, such a match was as good as it could get. Lu Changxuan wasn’t just dashing and promising; he also had no legitimate heirs. If Qin Feifei bore him children, they would naturally become his rightful heirs.

  As for Qin Yaoyao, the second miss being discussed so gleefully by the maids, she y on a bed at this very moment, clutching the corner of her bnket so tightly that her knuckles turned white, veins bulging on the back of her hands.

  She had spent the past day and night lying in bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. At times, she thought she spoke to someone; at others, she vaguely recalled being helped around the room. When she awoke that day, she found herself alone.

  Gncing around, she noticed that the room’s furnishings were unfamiliar. It was a quintessential boudoir—yered curtains, elegant tassels, and exquisite, refined furniture.

  This room, she had never seen before.

  She stared down at her hands, smooth and white, so delicate they couldn’t possibly belong to someone who had worked herself to the bone and grown calluses. Bewildered, Qin Yaoyao gritted her teeth, carefully got out of bed, and supported herself as she slowly shuffled to the dressing table.

  In the mirror, she saw the reflection of a thirteen-year-old girl. Her features were delicate and refined, but her thin frame, pale complexion, and swollen, red-rimmed eyes made her appear frail and ghostlike. Her gaze was cold and brimming with resentment, distorting a face that should have looked innocent. Dressed in simple white loungewear, her loose hair cascading over her shoulders only made her seem eerily ethereal—like a specter from a tragic tale.

  This was Qin Shuying, the seventh miss, an orphaned daughter of her third uncle, Qin Yongzhou.

  Recently tormented and broken in spirit, Qin Yaoyao was too numb to feel fear at the sight of her reflection. Instead, she began to think.

  After a long moment of reflection, she came to terms with the truth:

  The 24-year-old Qin Yaoyao, second miss of the Qin family, had died three days ago in the fire that consumed the Lu residence.

  Perhaps her overwhelming resentment had brought her back, or perhaps heaven had deemed her suffering too unjust. Either way, she had been reborn into the body of her thirteen-year-old cousin, Qin Shuying, the sole daughter of the Qin family’s third branch.

  The fleeting memories that had passed through her mind during her unconsciousness belonged to Qin Shuying. They were filled with grief for her te parents and little else of note.

  If anything seemed strange, it was the circumstances surrounding the deaths of Qin Yongzhou and his wife—it felt like there was more to the story than met the eye.

  For now, however, Qin Yaoyao couldn’t make sense of it.

  Qin Yongzhou was the most outstanding of the three sons of the Qin family. A prodigy in his youth, he gained the emperor’s favor early and became a third-rank Salt Transport Commissioner, a high-ranking official position. He was stationed in the prosperous southern regions. However, three years ago, he succumbed to an illness after contracting a severe cold. His wife, Madam Long, followed him in grief shortly after, leaving behind their only daughter, the orphaned Qin Shuying.

  Qin Shuying returned to the Qin residence accompanying her parents’ coffins, consumed by grief. Her sorrow soon made her gravely ill, and though she eventually recovered, her health remained frail. She could no longer endure the wind or drastic weather changes, often bedridden for days. Thus, she spent most of her time in Spring Garden, rarely leaving the courtyard. Qin Yaoyao had only met Qin Shuying once when the tter was seven or eight years old, which was why she recognized her reflection in the mirror.

  Casting her gaze back toward the window, she could still hear the maids gossiping outside. Inside the room, not a single servant was present. Who would care about a dying orphan?

  Her eyes fell on a pte of pastries on the table. Qin Yaoyao—no, she was Qin Shuying now—let a sinister smile creep onto her lips, a smile twisted by the grief and despair she could no longer hide. My son, Feng'er! she thought, her heart breaking.

  She forced her weak body to move, shuffling to the table one agonizing step at a time. Slowly, she sat down, picked up a pastry, and ate it piece by piece. Then she poured herself a cup of hot tea and sipped it slowly. Thankfully, no one disturbed her. It was only after a long while, with tears streaming down her face, that she finished the tea and pastries and returned to the bed.

  Eight years ago, when Qin Yaoyao married Lu Changxuan, he had nothing. She sold all her dowry to support the household, managed the family affairs, served her mother-in-w, raised her sister-in-w, and funded her husband and brother-in-w’s education. To sustain the family, she stepped out into the public eye, managing businesses, and transformed the once-poor Lu family into a wealthy household. Her efforts allowed Lu Changxuan to focus on his studies and career without worrying about finances, eventually securing him a position as a fifth-rank official at the age of twenty-two. It had been three years since then.

  Qin Yaoyao cked the refined talents of poetry, painting, or music, but she possessed an innate business acumen inherited from her maternal family. She frequently interacted with people through business dealings and had a keen understanding of the political climate, far exceeding that of most women. Lu Changxuan often consulted her on important matters, and her advice, while not always perfect, was typically sound and instrumental in his decisions. Her adeptness at navigating the social circles of the back courtyard also pyed a significant role in Lu Changxuan’s career.

  Despite her hard work, intelligence, and dedication, Lu Changxuan always remained distant. He was polite but never passionate. To Qin Yaoyao, this was the “mutual respect” her stepmother, Madam Xu, often spoke of, and she was content with that.

  In the sixth year of their marriage, Qin Yaoyao brought a bowl of soup to Lu Changxuan’s study. The servant boy was absent, and she momentarily forgot his strict rule forbidding women from entering the study. She stepped inside and was greeted by sounds that made her ears burn and her heart race. At first, she assumed it was one of the concubines. But then, she heard the words, “Feifei, my darling, my treasure,” and it felt like a thunderbolt had struck her. The porcein bowl slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor.

  -----

  Author's Note:This is a rebirth and revenge novel. While the first four or five chapters will set the stage with appropriate exposition, the ter chapters will dive straight into intense conflicts. Expect battles of wit and will, with life and death hanging in the bance. The female protagonist is not a saint—she has no mercy for her enemies and will fight to the bitter end. If this sounds like your kind of story, please support it. Thank you!