Wen Jiu can hardly be blamed for forgetting; the truth was that her transmigration had happened so abruptly, all the way back when the original owner was less than ten years old...
"Master, let's go down the mountain to the Lantern Festival! I want to look at the candied haws, and see, it's still snowing!" Little Wen Jiu tugged at the old man's sleeve, acting spoiled.
"Acting spoiled won't work."
"Xuanling, watch your young miss finish her martial arts practice before you come find me."
"Yes, sir."
"Young Miss, let's begin."
"Hmph, Xuanling is no fun at all, just like Master," little Wen Jiu muttered under her breath, but nonetheless began her stances.
Two children under ten years old practicing martial arts in a snowstorm—thinking back on it, Wen Jiu felt like crying. New Year's Day had brought no leniency from Master, and now the Lantern Festival didn't even grant her a moment's rest. Her aggrieved mouth pressed into a thin, straight line.
After half an hour, the old man emerged. "Change your clothes. Today, I'll grant you the luxury of half a day's leisure."
"Yay! Master is the best! Thank you, Master. I'll be ready in a second. Xuanling, hurry up!"
The snowflakes were still drifting down.
The old man walked in front, followed by the two little girls. The mischievous pair stepped directly into the large footprints the person ahead of them had pressed into the thin layer of snow.
"Be careful, everyone. The snow is thin and slippery, and the path down the mountain isn't easy to walk."
"Yes, Master!" Little Wen Jiu held Xuanling's hand, dancing with joy. This was the happiest day she could remember. Usually, Master was extremely strict with her, allowing not a single moment of rest.
She only knew she was the prime minister's second young miss. Born bearing an unusual aura and feared to be an ill omen, she had been sent away to Nanhua Mountain. She had never seen her parents. When she was three years old, Nanhua Mountain had fallen into decline and everyone else had left, leaving her an unwanted child. It was right then that someone had come—accompanied by a middle-aged man and a little girl around her own age—and taken her away. Apart from them, she only had Xuanling, Master, and Uncle Mu.
Every day, Master taught her etiquette and medicine, and never let her fall behind in her studies. She had to master ritual, music, archery, horsemanship, chariot-driving, calligraphy, and mathematics—every single one of them. Uncle Mu, meanwhile, dedicated himself entirely to teaching her martial arts. Master's little corner of the world was very small, yet he must have been a great figure in the past, given how proficient he was in everything. And so they had settled down on Nanhua Mountain.
"Ah—Master!"
"Young Miss! Young Miss!"
The old man hurriedly turned his head, only to see little Wen Jiu tumbling straight down the mountain slope. At that instant, a middle-aged man flew toward her, but still failed to catch her.
*Plop.* Water splashed in all directions.
"Mutong, hurry up and fish her out!"
"Yes, sir!"
"And get back here—immediately!"
"Master, it's a good thing the young miss used her lightweight kung fu to break her fall against the slope, otherwise, she might have lost her life right there on the hillside before even reaching the lake."
"Why is there no pulse?" The old man panicked.
"That's impossible. The young miss's constitution isn't weak, and she's been practicing martial arts for years. We pulled her up very quickly; at most, she should just be frozen. Mas... ter?"
"Jiu'er! Jiu'er!" Refusing to accept it, the old man checked her pulse over and over again.
Over and over again...
Xuanling wept continuously, not daring to make a sound for fear of disturbing the master as he took the pulse. She was terrified.
Terrified that the young miss who had been holding her hand just a moment ago would simply vanish—the young miss she spent every waking moment with.
"Mutong, hurry up and stoke the charcoal fire! Xuanling, go boil hot water—fast!" Tears welled up in the old man's eyes.
He didn't dare—he couldn't believe it. Today was little Wen Jiu's birthday; he had finally wanted to grant them half a day off, and she hadn't even eaten her candied haws yet, nor had she tasted the noodles he had planned to cook for her.
The charcoal arrived, and the water was boiling.
"Put her in the tub, quickly! I need to apply acupuncture." The old man's voice was trembling. This was the little girl he had raised with his own hands.
"There's a pulse! Mutong, she has a pulse! Quickly, let's step outside. Xuanling, hurry and change your young miss into dry clothes."
"Yes, sir!"
Mutong looked at his master. It had been a very long time since the old man had experienced such emotional turbulence; even when facing the Son of Heaven in the past, he had remained poised, calm, and respectful, nothing like this... It terrified him.
"Master, she's changed."
"Keep watch over her. I'm going to brew the medicine."
"Master, let me do it."
"No, I will brew it myself. You can be my assistant and make some food at the same time—that girl will want to eat the moment she wakes up."
"Yes, sir."
"Cough, cough, cough."
"Young Miss, you're awake..."
What in the world is this place? My throat feels like it's been scorched by fire—I'm dying of thirst!
"Young Miss, you're finally awake! You've been asleep for four hours."
"Wait, who are you calling?"
"Young Miss, stop joking around. Master gave you your medicine, but you wouldn't wake up. He just left a moment ago—you had him terribly worried."
"What are you talking about?" My voice sounded all wrong.
She looked down at her hands—slender, delicate, and fair. Then she glanced at her surroundings and listened to the tearful complaints of the person before her. How could she not realize by now that she had transmigrated?
What a wretched, life-claiming transmigration! He was a man, for goodness' sake! Burning with fever, she collapsed back onto the bed, closing her eyes as the original owner's memories rushed into her mind like a surprise attack.
"Hnng, my head hurts so much..."
"Master, Master! The young miss..." Xuanling bolted out the door, returning a moment later with three people. In her memories, one was her master, one was Uncle Mu, and the weeping one was her maid, Xuanling.
"Master, come quick! The young miss's fever hasn't broken, and she's saying her head hurts!"
"How are you feeling, Jiu'er?"
*Jiu'er?* It was simply too awkward for words. How was she supposed to say, *I'm actually Zhao Qiang from the future, and what's more, I'm a twenty-three-year-old man*?
An aura of coldness radiated from him, but the three of them merely assumed she was suffering from severe shock and a high fever, paying it no mind.
Meeting their eyes filled with utter concern, she managed to say, "I'm fine. My throat just hurts, and my head probably hurts because the fever hasn't broken yet."
"Good child, you gave us a terrible fright. Your master, your master he..."
"Mutong, go get some food."
"Right away!"
The "Wen Jiu" of the present moment looked at the old man. His bearing was extraordinary, his clothes as clean as new, though he still had his outer robe draped loosely over his shoulders. His hair was streaked with white, and his expression was dead serious. Anyone could tell he had rushed over in a panic—his shoes betrayed him, as he clearly hadn't had time to pull them on properly before hurrying in.
It was obvious how deeply he cherished the original owner. She quickly called out to stop him, "Master, you should go get some rest earlier! I'm fine now."
"Alright, good. Let me take your pulse one last time, and then I'll head back."
"Okay." Wen Jiu smiled and held out her wrist.
"There's nothing wrong now. Have Uncle Mu bring you your medicine shortly. Drink it, eat something, and don't get out of bed. Xuanling, look after your young miss."
"Yes, Master."
The old man walked away with his hands behind his back. After taking her pulse, he had worn the expression of someone laying down a heavy burden, letting out a profound sigh of relief—so faint that only she had noticed it.
She lay back down, struggling to sort through her thoughts. Should she just blurt the truth out tomorrow? Would they treat her like a demon? But this was all too unbelievable! Though she wasn't an avid reader of web novels, she had browsed a few here and there—usually, people transmigrated into the same gender, but what on earth was this? What kind of situation was this?
She inwardly wailed in misery. Was her lifelong reputation really going to end up like this?
"Young Miss, drink your medicine first, and then have some food," Uncle Mu said, stepping over with a bowl.
"Uncle Mu, Master has never told me his formal title. When I go out into the martial arts world in the future, whose sect am I supposed to claim?"
"What martial arts world? You are the prime minister's second young miss, a lady of a noble family. If Master hasn't said anything, he has his own reasons."
"Then since Uncle Mu is half a master to me, can I use your name instead?"
"..."
"Fine. Since Master doesn't allow it, I won't ask anymore."