Chapter 3

Heavy snow swirled outside.

The woman sat quietly inside the estate, a cup of steaming fragrant tea in her hands. A scarlet cloak lined with crane feathers framed her exquisite face, making her beauty all the more vivid.

At intervals, a maid added silver-thread charcoal to the brazier.

Inside, the hall was warm as spring.

Outside, the winter wind cut like a blade.

From where she sat, she had a perfect view of the youth’s punishment.

As the lashes mounted, the snow beneath him turned bright red.

He clenched his teeth. His breathing grew ragged and sweat broke across his brow, yet he did not make a sound.

The woman spoke calmly. “Did he truly steal my jade wisteria hairpin and my carved ice-blossom pendant?”

It was phrased as a question, but her tone made every servant and maid feel that she already knew the truth.

No one dared breathe too loudly.

She lifted one finger. Two guards stepped forward and seized the servant who had made the accusation.

“Make him tell you where he hid my jewelry. Then dispose of him.”

“There is no place in my household for a servant who bites the hand that feeds him.”

Reclining languidly in her chair, the princess decided life and death with a sentence.

The servant’s eyes bulged in terror. Before he could beg for mercy, the guards covered his mouth and dragged him away.

I nearly applauded.

Of all the women who had occupied my body, this was the only one who wore the identity of a princess so naturally.

Some of the others had denounced the rotten feudal order, preached equality for all, freedom in marriage, and one faithful partner for life.

They were fortunate to inhabit my body. Imperial Father could not punish me too harshly. Otherwise, even a hundred heads would not have been enough for the chopping block.

They enjoyed imperial blood, privilege, wealth, and glory, then turned their arrows against their own house.

Even waking in the middle of the night, I wanted to sit up and ask: Were all of you insane?

Now I truly wondered who this transmigrator had been before coming here.

The next day, the princess entered the dim, damp woodshed.

The little beast lay unconscious on a straw mat, bandages covering his body. Blood still seeped through the cloth.

The faint metallic scent hung in the air.

His face was deathly pale. Were his chest not rising and falling, anyone might have taken him for a corpse.

The princess bent over him and patted his cheek. “Poor thing. I owe you an apology. Yesterday, I wrongly accused you of stealing my jewelry.”

The youth opened his eyes. He assumed she had finally recognized her mistake, but his anger remained. He looked at her darkly and sneered. “You are a princess. Whether you punish or reward a servant, is it not all a gift from Your Highness?”

Her red lips curved. “You certainly have a way with words.”

My face went blank. No. Surely not. Was this one about to deliver herself to the little beast too?

Tenderness filled the princess’s eyes, with what looked like a trace of guilt. She leaned closer.

Then cold steel flashed before me.

Agony ripped through the youth’s chest. His eyes flew wide in disbelief.

The hilt was in the princess’s hand.

She drove the blade deeper.

Blood sprayed across her pale cheek.

Her smile was bewitchingly beautiful, as if murder were merely a game played for her amusement.

Blood poured from the youth’s mouth. Hatred twisted his face. “Why… are you different from them?”

She laughed softly. “Why should I be like them? Why leave a ticking bomb alive when it will kill me soon enough?”

She released the corpse.

In the woodshed’s murky light, the blood on her face made her look dark and uncanny.

“I’d already made a mortal enemy of him, so why not kill him and end the threat for good? This redemption game is painfully dull.”

My mouth fell open.

Then she turned, looked straight into my eyes, and smiled. “Princess Changle. I have heard so much about you.”

What?

She—she could see me?

Embarrassment flared at being exposed. Then I noticed the corpse’s right thumb.

Bare skin. Nothing else.

Through hundreds of cycles, I had seen the little red mole on Shen Changyuan’s right thumb too many times to mistake it.

My expression hardened. I met the woman’s eyes and spoke each word clearly.

“That is not Shen Changyuan. He is still alive.”