"Miss, Miss, wake up! Miss!"
"They’re almost upon us! Pinch her philtrum!"
Two voices reached Jiang Yu’s ears, crystalline yet strangely distant. Before she could grasp her surroundings, a sharp pain flared in her philtrum.
"Hiss—" Jiang Yu gasped, catching her breath. Beside her, a voice cried out in relief, "The Miss is awake!"
Jiang Yu opened her eyes to see two faces she never expected to encounter again.
"Qing'er?" Jiang Yu whispered, caught between shock and disbelief.
There was no other explanation—Qing'er, her personal maid, had died saving her on the road back to the Capital. Could it be that even in death, one is reunited?
"Miss, you're finally awake! We must run! The bandits are closing in," said Wan'er, her other personal maid.
Unlike Qing'er, who had died early, Wan'er had stayed by Jiang Yu’s side the longest. Jiang Yu knew the tragic end that had awaited Wan'er after her own downfall in her previous life. Though she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she knew Xuanyuan Ling would never have let someone who knew so many of his secrets survive.
"Wan'er." Before Jiang Yu could get her bearings, the two maids pulled her up and began to run.
Though her mind was muddled, the memory struck her instantly: this scene was identical to the time, just after she turned fourteen, when she was intercepted by bandits on her way back to the Capital from the villa.
Was she... reborn? Or was this all a dream?
Regardless, Jiang Yu would not allow the tragedy of her past life to repeat itself. She steadied her heart and spoke decisively, "Wan'er, Qing'er, we must run toward the southwest. There is a Linchan Temple in that direction."
If her memory served her correctly, "that person" should be recuperating at the temple right now.
Without a word, Wan'er and Qing'er began to run behind her.
The bandits, paid to do a job, quickly slaughtered the guards accompanying Jiang Yu. When they tore open the carriage curtains, they discovered it was empty. The lead bandit gritted his teeth and growled, "Chase them!"
In the dense forest, the three women stumbled along, supporting one another. Weak and delicate, they were no match for the rugged, ruthless mountain bandits. Their tracks were quickly discovered.
Jiang Yu gritted her teeth, eyeing a concealed cave not far away. She had no choice but to gamble.
"Wan'er, Qing'er, get in!" Jiang Yu said, slipping into the crevice with fluid agility.
The two maids stared, stunned by her sudden nimbleness.
"What are you waiting for? Hurry!" Jiang Yu urged.
Seeing this, the two maids bit their lips and shoved themselves into the tight opening.
It was nearly dusk, and the thick, overgrown forest was already dim. It was because of these shadows that Jiang Yu dared to take the risk. As soon as the three of them had curled themselves into the tiny, dark space, the men arrived.
The sound of footsteps crunched through the underbrush, drawing closer and closer. Jiang Yu’s heart hammered against her ribs. The two maids, never having encountered such terror, could not stop themselves from trembling.
In her past life, Jiang Yu had escaped, but only at the cost of Qing'er’s life. Qing'er had worn her clothes to lead the bandits away and had met a brutal end. Afterward, Jiang Yu, in rags, had hidden and trekked all the way to the Capital with Wan'er to find the Jiang Family.
But who could have known? Word had spread that Jiang Yu had been ravaged by bandits on the road, that she was no longer a woman of virtue. From the moment she stepped into the Capital, she had already lost. She was ostracized by the noble ladies, treated as if she were something filthy. Her mother, Lady Li, and her elder sister, Jiang Wanqian, had tried to find her, but harboring a grudge for being abandoned at the villa for so long, she had turned them away.
Instead, she had placed her trust in her father's concubine, Madam Zhao, believing the woman’s promise: "Mother will clear your name." She had been so blind, letting Madam Zhao’s own daughters manipulate her into turning against her own flesh and blood. She had even come to believe that her own mother was spineless and biased, ultimately abandoning her own kin.
Looking back, her past self had been utterly foolish. This time, she would change everything.
As she recalled these memories, Jiang Yu bit her lip until it turned pale.
The bandits continued to circle nearby, refusing to give up the search. Qing'er looked at Jiang Yu’s frail frame and bit her lip, preparing to step out and lure them away, when one of the bandits suddenly shouted, "Retreat! There are government soldiers nearby!"
As they fled, another cursed, "Damn it, to lose that fortune just like that!"
"Aren't we catching that woman, Boss?"
"Catching who? Run! I heard the Heir is nearby."
Their voices faded into the distance until there was nothing but silence.
They were truly gone. The three of them finally let out a long-held breath.
"Miss, are you alright?" Qing'er whispered.
Jiang Yu shook her head and said, "Let’s go."
"Go... where? It's already dark," Wan'er asked.
Jiang Yu said calmly, "We are going to find the Heir. Staying here is not safe."
"The Heir? Which Heir?" Wan'er asked, confused.
Jiang Yu tapped her on the head. "In all of the Nan'ao Kingdom, how many people are addressed as 'the Heir'?"
Indeed, in the Nan'ao Kingdom, only one person was known by that title—Xiao Yan. He was the eldest grandson of the Town-State Duke and the only son of the legendary General Xiao, who had never known defeat on the battlefield. Xiao Yan’s talent was so renowned that even the Emperor had praised him, saying, "To have such a son is the fortune of our Nan'ao Kingdom."
Xiao Yan was a master of strategy, and it was said that his father's undefeated record was largely due to his son’s genius. He was the man every prince in the kingdom courted. With the backing of the Town-State Duke Manor, a father who had never lost a battle, and his own brilliance, Xiao Yan was the most prestigious noble in the land. His strikingly handsome face was, by comparison, the least of his qualities.
Perhaps it was true that the heavens are jealous of genius. Less than a year after Jiang Yu had returned to the Capital, Xiao Yan had died. It was said he was born frail and riddled with illness, and his survival until then had been nothing short of a miracle. On the day of his death, omens appeared in the sky, and people whispered that he was a reincarnated star of literature.
However, having spent years by Xuanyuan Ling’s side and witnessing the darkness of the palace, Jiang Yu knew there was more to his death than the rumors suggested. Sometimes, it was dangerous to be too dazzling.
Jiang Yu knew of Xiao Yan’s whereabouts only because of Xuanyuan Ling. In her previous life, hoping to win Xiao Yan’s support, Xuanyuan Ling had tracked his every move, attempting to orchestrate "chance" encounters so he could win his trust as a "soulmate" and secure the throne. She had been the one to compile the intelligence, and she knew that today, he was staying at the nearby Linchan Temple.
Jiang Yu was not one to sit and wait for death. This place was dangerous; she would gamble everything on finding Xiao Yan and asking him to escort her back to the Capital. After all, she knew well from her past life that the Heir was untainted by the company of women and remained steadfast and aloof. He was the only person she could trust.
Living again, she would not give up any chance to survive.