Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Feng Zhaoqiu was the daughter of a convicted official. After her family was condemned, she was consigned to Shiliu Lou under the Jiaofang Si, where she suffered every hardship imaginable.

It was not until the year the new emperor ascended the throne that, in a show of benevolence, he pardoned some of those punished by association. Only then was Feng Zhaoqiu able to leave the Jiaofang Si and have her status restored to that of a commoner in good standing.

But by the time she left, she was already pregnant.

“I gave birth to you after I arrived in Baohua Village. Back then, I was thin and weak. I had to lie in bed and rest for three months, and I spent every last bit of my savings… If not for that, I never would have sent you away.

“But things are different now. I’m strong and healthy now. I can do all sorts of work, and I can support you on my own.”

When she finished speaking, she hurried into my room, took a wooden box from the cabinet, and placed it in my hands. “These are the deed to our house and the deed to our fields. You keep them.”

She was afraid I would not believe her.

For as long as I could remember, no one had ever tried to please me the way she did.

Madame Yan had always treated me harshly. The marquis had never once looked at me properly. The servants judged people by their standing; even if they did not know my origins, seeing that I was unloved by my parents was enough for them to brush me off and neglect me.

Feng Zhaoqiu said, “Nianzhi, not a day has gone by in these sixteen years that I haven’t thought of you.”

I looked at the two deeds inside the wooden box, and my throat tightened. I did not want to cry, but the tears fell anyway, refusing to listen.

With a background like hers, even if she had not wanted me- even if she had hated me- it would have been only natural.

How could she love me?

Seeing me cry, Feng Zhaoqiu panicked. She wanted to wipe my tears, but worried her rough palms would hurt my face, so she trotted out and brought back a handkerchief, which she handed to me.

She had washed the handkerchief until it was perfectly clean, yet she still felt as if she had wronged me. She kept muttering, “Cotton is still a bit rough. Next time I go to the capital, I should buy some silk…”

I lowered my eyes and said, “I don’t need those things.”

Feng Zhaoqiu froze, then asked cautiously, “Nianzhi, did I say the wrong thing again? Don’t be angry with me, I-I…”

“I’m not angry. Since we’re an ordinary family, why bother with the airs of noble young ladies? If we have money, we might as well buy a few more pieces of meat.”

The Marquis Manor was wealthy. Favored maids there lived better than young ladies from modest households outside its gates. Even if I, the false young lady, had never been favored, I had still used my share of fine things.

But I did not care about any of that.

Every time I accompanied Madame Yan to offer incense, I never prayed for wealth and glory, nor for a perfect husband. I only prayed that my parents would show me a little affection.

As long as I could have my parents’ love, I would have been willing to live on husks and wild greens.

Now, in a way, my wish had been granted.

I gradually calmed down from the shock of everything. Mother and daughter were connected at heart; Feng Zhaoqiu sensed that calm as well, and she stopped acting so timid. She snatched up her apron, picked up the kitchen knife, and went to the backyard to catch a chicken.

Her steps were steady, her hands strong. She swiftly grabbed one, and without so much as blinking, slit its throat.

As the chicken blood flowed out, I felt no fear. Instead, for some reason, the sight of her holding the knife filled me with a strange sense of exhilaration.

She was different from every woman I had ever met.

Back at the Marquis Manor, even the old women doing odd jobs in the kitchen paid attention to carrying themselves with elegance.

Feng Zhaoqiu did not care about that. Her eyes were only on the task before her. All she cared about was how to finish the work quickly and well.

She boiled water, scalded off the feathers, and set the whole chicken on the chopping board. I took hold of the kitchen knife and asked her, “Can I try?”

She burst out laughing. “Of course you can! But do you know how?”

I may never have butchered a chicken, but had I never eaten one?

I gripped the knife with both hands and chopped down with all my might. Bone fragments flew up, and a chicken wing shot straight into the stove, rolling around until it was covered in ash.

Feng Zhaoqiu said, “Washing meat with plant ash makes it even cleaner. You’ve skipped straight to that step.”