4 A Turning Point

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As soon as Xie Jun kicked open Miss Lin’s door, he found her once again seated at the long table, pen in hand—that made the eighth time. After two encounters, he was certain that the variable tied to his fate was none other than this Miss Lin. As long as she died, they would both return to this very moment. Therefore, to ensure the timeline proceeded normally, Xie Jun could no longer allow Lin Yun to perish.

Xie Jun pushed aside the memorial before him and spread out a sheet of Xuande paper, upon which he first wrote: “Consort Li of Marquis Ningyuan.” Lin Yun had just returned to the mansion, and with no other authority present and her recent severe illness, this was the perfect opportunity for her to die of sickness.

If nothing unexpected occurred, all seven of Lin Yun’s previous deaths were orchestrated by Consort Li. Yet doubts remained. The greatest conflict between them was over a marital engagement of one of Lin Yun’s children; taking a life would be a permanent solution, but there were other methods. Should anyone probe into the truth behind Lin Yun’s illness, Consort Li’s deception might be uncovered. Thus, killing Lin Yun was a gamble fraught with more risk than reward.

Unless—unless Consort Li had secret support within the Ningyuan Marquis residence, or at least no opposition, perhaps even someone who would cover for her afterward. With such backing, the risk of killing Lin Yun would be minimal, and she would be willing to act.

Xie Jun added three more names to the paper: the Dowager Madam Zheng, Marquis Lin Qichuan, and Madam Song—the wife of Marquis Ningyuan. Only these three could effectively bury any wrongdoing within the mansion. But who among them might be the silent supporter?

All three were Lin Yun’s closest blood relatives, yet since her recent return, she had little interaction with them; information was insufficient to judge. Fortunately, Xie Jun was not here to seek justice or investigate. He did not care who wished her harm; all he needed was to ensure she did not die and that his own affairs remained unaffected.

Miss Lin Yun was already trapped in a deadly game. Within the Ningyuan Marquis mansion, she was like a piece of meat on a chopping block, at the mercy of others. She was a pawn caught in the web, but breaking free was not beyond Xie Jun’s capabilities.

Yán Lǜ had reported that Miss Lin arrived alone from Hangzhou Prefecture to the imperial city—a long journey. Along the route, there must have been a few major cases. If they labeled her as a suspect hastily, knowing some investigations moved slowly while others were swift, they could easily arrest her, holding her in prison for months.

With a plan in mind, Xie Jun called out for Yán Míng to enter. Yán Míng pushed open the door and asked, “What are your orders, sir?”

At the last moment, usually decisive Xie Jun hesitated briefly. He inexplicably recalled the bloodstained plum blossom hairpin he had received at the breakfast stall. Miss Lin was the kind of person who would offer a golden hairpin after just a bowl of soy milk—a person who could be won over with a little kindness.

But if their first formal interaction ended with her imprisonment, that would forge a lasting grudge. Was it necessary to be so absolute from the start?

Then a new idea struck Xie Jun. “If I’m not mistaken, isn’t the wife of the Prefect of Shuntian the Empress Dowager’s niece?”

The question came abruptly and vaguely; Yán Míng did not recall and promptly summoned Yán Lǜ. Yán Lǜ nodded.

“Find a way to inform the Empress Dowager, through the Prefect’s wife, about the return of Madam Song’s daughter to the Ningyuan Marquis residence. Do it as soon as possible.”

Yán Míng was baffled—what connections did this have? Yet trusting his lord’s wisdom, he set off without hesitation.

Xie Jun folded the Xuande paper neatly, reopened the memorial, and resolved to keep matters cautious for now. If Miss Lin turned out to be hopeless, he could always imprison her later.

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Ningyuan Marquis Residence.

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Lin Yun efficiently cleared away breakfast. When sunlight reached the sixteenth pane of the carved window, she declined another invitation to visit the Xiabing Pavilion.

Her maid, Qing Chan, entered carrying a wooden bucket and placed it before Miss Lin. “Miss, the fish you requested. I selected two of the liveliest, just as you ordered.”

Qing Chan found Miss Lin increasingly peculiar. She had been strange upon arrival at the Ningyuan Marquis residence, but today was even odder—refusing breakfast yet asking for live fish.

Lin Yun took the bucket; inside, two lively crucian carp about four to five inches long swam, flicking their tails and creating ripples.

She draped a cloak from the yellow pearwood hanger over her shoulders, then carried the bucket outside to the small courtyard. There, beside a well, she poured the fish into the water.

Qing Chan, puzzled, asked, “Miss, what are you doing?”

Lin Yun casually replied, “I’ve been ill for a long time, and I heard that releasing creatures can bring good fortune, so I thought I’d try.”

Qing Chan dryly praised her kindness, but was more convinced than ever that Miss Lin was strange—who releases fish by emptying them into a well?

In truth, Lin Yun was not lying. Releasing fish into the well was a form of liberation—though in this case, liberating herself.

After several reincarnations, she had refrained from eating for fear of poisoning but could not avoid drinking water. The last time, she left the Ningyuan Marquis residence in the carriage of Qian Da, the coachman, and nearly succeeded. Yet she was poisoned to death.

During those days, she consumed nothing but well water, which Consort Li had also poisoned.

Now, with fish in the well, if they turned belly-up, it would signal the water was unsafe.

Lin Yun was clever. After each death, she devised countermeasures to avoid repeating the same mistakes, yet the mansion’s methods were endlessly varied.

Within the Ningyuan Marquis residence, she was like a student facing a new exam—never repeating old errors but always tripped up by unfamiliar questions.

She sent another maid, Hong Yuan, to return the bucket to the kitchen, then left the courtyard with Qing Chan, following a path from memory until she stopped.

Beneath the garden’s rockery, three young servants were punching and kicking a tall, burly young man. Despite his size, the man did not fight back, meekly enduring the blows.

Lin Yun raised her voice, “What are you doing?”

Her cry was surprisingly loud for her frail frame; she even felt a bit short of breath.

The three servants immediately ceased and apologized obediently.

Lin Yun felt like a dormitory supervisor—commanding but powerless. Her position in the Ningyuan Marquis residence was awkward: everyone was polite but no one truly respected her; she could not discipline the servants.

Still, she felt that if not today, perhaps another day. She studied the three faces carefully.

One was lean and sallow, another pale with small eyes, and the last with a round face and a ruddy nose.

After they left, Lin Yun asked the big man knowingly, “What’s your name? Why didn’t you fight back?”

He lowered his head obediently. “Miss, my name is Qian Da. I’m the mansion’s coachman. They said it was just play and that they wouldn’t hurt me.”

Reincarnation was frustrating—although this was their first meeting, she now viewed it with suspicion.

Previously, she had not exposed this lie, but this time, feeling familiar with them, she blurted, “If it doesn’t hurt, why are your eyes red?”

“Because they said we’re friends, so it doesn’t hurt.”

Seeing it was futile, Lin Yun took a small silver coin from her pouch. “Buy some medicine to soothe it. They bully you because you’re naive, but that’s not friendship.”

Though she had medicine herself, she dared not give it to him for fear of poisoning.

Qian Da refused the money stubbornly. “Only those three want to play with me. They’re my friends. Even if you are a lady, you can’t say they’re bad.”

His stubbornness made Lin Yun laugh. She pressed the coin into his hand; he dared not refuse out of propriety.

“This money is a loan. Qian Da, real friends would lend you money. If you think they are your friends, try borrowing even a coin. If you succeed, I’ll apologize for doubting your pure friendship.”

“I’ve borrowed from them many times. Whenever I ask, they lend,” Qian Da said confidently.

Lin Yun agreed to meet him here at the same time tomorrow to see who would apologize.

Seeing his earnest belief in their friendship, she couldn’t help but smile. Such a foolish child—borrowing money is a surefire way to gauge true friends; soon he would understand the world’s cruelty.

After parting, Qing Chan disapproved. “Miss, though Qian Da drives well, he’s known as the fool of the mansion. Given your status, you should avoid such people to keep your reputation untarnished.”

Without turning, Lin Yun walked toward her quarters. “Some people are simple-minded but kind-hearted. Others are clever but malicious. I’d rather deal with the former.”

With that, the world grew quiet and her mood brightened. Indeed, letting others be unhappy made her happy.

Back in her room, she ignored her maids’ urging to rest in bed and instead lay on the small couch with her bedding.

Though it was morning, she had resolved to lie still all day.

Since drinking water without eating made her hungry, she needed to conserve energy.

After befriending Qian Da tomorrow, she planned to escape the mansion in the early hours of the day after, when the guards were most lax. This time, with the poison in the water neutralized, she hoped to succeed.

Knowing Consort Li, once Lin Yun disappeared, would spread rumors that she had eloped with the coachman, Lin Yun did not care.

If this stopped Consort Li from attacking her over the ridiculous marriage contract, Lin Yun would even welcome it.

She touched her sleeve. Once free of the Ningyuan Marquis residence, she would fulfill her original self’s last wishes and figure out how to survive in the Great Zhou.

Many troubles lay ahead, but at least beyond the mansion, there was hope.

“No matter the difficulties, the wagon will find a path over the mountain. At worst, I’ll start anew,” Lin Yun embraced a resilient spirit and fell asleep.

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The next day before the dawn hour, Lin Yun was preparing to rise when an elderly woman entered, saying something that visibly unsettled the maids. They hurriedly began tidying up.

This was a new development, unseen in previous cycles.

Watching Hong Yuan discard unused incense from the censer, Lin Yun narrowed her eyes. She knew the incense was poisoned and had forbidden the maids from lighting any.

Though she did not know the details, she sensed this change worked in her favor, prompting them to hastily erase evidence.

While they busied themselves, Lin Yun moved her pillow and blanket back to her bed. “Why the morning commotion? I didn’t sleep well on the couch yesterday; I’ll return to bed.”

Once under the canopy, she opened the small drawer beside the bed and pulled out two packets of preserved fruit, quickly wrapping a few pieces in a cloth to keep.

Sure enough, Hong Yuan soon came to tidy up. “Miss, these preserved fruits have been here several days and aren’t fresh. Today we’ll replace them.”

Meanwhile, in the Xiabing Pavilion, Consort Li sat opposite an old woman and an elderly man, smiling gently but biting her teeth in frustration.

How could the Empress Dowager have learned of Lin Yun’s return and sent people to observe her?