Chapter Three: Memory

Pain... heat... Lu Yalan was acutely aware that she was ill; her body was supposed to ache and burn, yet strangely, she felt nothing at all. It was as if her soul and body had split in two. She watched the tormented figure lying on the bed, yet her body received no sensation.

She glanced once more at her own body. The fevered girl moaned in her stupor, sweat trickling from her brow down her cheeks, pooling behind her ear and finally soaking into the bedding. The maid who should have kept vigil was nowhere to be seen. Before sleep, she had sent away Hong Xing; if no one came to check on her, she would either be burned into a fool or perish in the flames of her fever. So the doctor who treated her as a child had warned.

Lu Yalan smiled bitterly. Who would have thought that, after so many years, she would face the same fate as in childhood? Had that been so, dying at eight would have been better—these extra years brought her nothing but mockery and malice.

For the sake of survival, she had always tread carefully, cautious in every step. At first, she found that being a bit dull and strictly observant of rules made her days easier. But as time passed, the mask became permanent, and the second young lady of the Lu family truly became the famed wooden doll.

She thought of Zhao Dingsheng, of the maids and stewards of the Lu residence, and of that father. Facing life and death, Lu Yalan suddenly felt at ease. It was pointless; death would be a release.

She had never resented anyone, nor owed anyone anything. Let it be—this was fine.

Having arrived at such thoughts, Lu Yalan felt her entire being lighten; the stone upon her heart was removed, and even without a body, breathing seemed easier.

Suddenly, a golden light burst from her forehead. Before she could react, a powerful force pulled her back into her body.

Every inch of her body throbbed with discomfort. Lu Yalan tried to lift her arm; with all her strength, she managed only to shift a finger. Only then did she become fully aware of the fever's intensity.

Lying on her back, uncertain of what had happened, she was given no time to ponder as the golden light spread from her forehead, wrapping her head in its brilliance.

“Ah…” The hoarse cry broke the silence of night, startling the birds perched on the branches.

It was as if her soul were being torn apart—caught off guard, Lu Yalan seemed to plunge through eighteen layers of hell. Veins bulged on her hands, grasping the bedding so fiercely she left deep creases. The violent pain made her convulse, springing up and then crashing back onto the bed.

The sweat from her fever was nothing compared to the sudden torrent now pouring from her body. Lu Yalan had never known she could sweat so much, as if it would never end, quickly soaking the entire bedding.

Her vision darkened, and at last, unable to bear it, she fainted.

“Water… water…”

“Miss, are you alright?” The door crashed open, and Hong Xing rushed to the bedside like the wind, bumping into the wall so the door swung shut behind her.

Hong Xing poured a cup of water, preparing to feed her mistress, but frowned, touching the teapot with the back of her hand—it was cold water.

Anger surged in Hong Xing. Those people usually shirked their duties, and she could tolerate it by taking on more herself, but now, with the young lady ill and needing medicine, they could not even provide hot water! Such shameless servants!

Hong Xing's eyes reddened with rage, but seeing the young lady’s cracked lips, she still went over to help her drink.

“Miss, take it slow. I thought you wouldn’t tolerate hot water because of the fever, so I prepared some cold—don’t drink too much.”

Lu Yalan saw Hong Xing touch the teapot and knew what had happened. She said nothing, simply drank deeply from Hong Xing’s hand.

Indeed, cold water was far more soothing than hot in such moments.

Hong Xing, seeing her mistress weary, tucked her in and left the room to let her rest.

Outside, Hong Xing strode straight toward the servants’ quarters, picking up a wooden stick along the way, weighing it in her hand, and kicked the door open.

Inside, a group of maids chatted as they nibbled melon seeds. The sudden kick startled them. Thinking a master had come, they hurried to their feet.

On seeing Hong Xing, their embarrassment turned to anger.

Ah Xiang stood with hands on hips, brows arched with fury. “What are you doing? Don’t you know proper manners? Is this how you enter a room? If this is the new etiquette for maids, the second young lady needs a lesson in rules.”

The others chimed in, some saying servants imitate their masters, others threatening to report her to Madam Qian. Madam Qian, steward of Yilan Garden, was a distant relation of the second concubine and notorious for bullying. Ah Xiang, her granddaughter, was fawned over by the staff more than the second young lady herself, acting as if she owned Yilan Garden.

Both mistress and maid were used to enduring for the sake of peace, but Hong Xing wanted to teach these wretches a lesson. Yet, as she approached, she feared causing trouble for her mistress, and most of her anger had faded by the time she kicked the door in.

Hearing Ah Xiang speak so of her mistress, Hong Xing remembered last night, when she had pushed open the door and found her mistress unconscious. The doctor had said that any further delay might have been fatal, and just now, her mistress had woken up without even a sip of hot water.

Grief welled up in Hong Xing; eyes brimming with tears, she raised the stick and rushed forward. “You wretches! I’ll make you pay! If I die, I’ll drag you to hell with me, so you can’t harm Miss again!”

These maids had grown up in the Lu household, serving noble ladies. Even if they quarreled, it was subtle and veiled—never had they seen such ferocity. Hong Xing charged like a wild woman; the others, seeing Ah Xiang targeted, scattered in fear of being caught as collateral.

Ah Xiang lost her hairpins, her hair in disarray, her clothes torn; she ran desperately, but pampered girls could never outrun Hong Xing, who had fought for food since childhood.

The stick landed again and again, making Ah Xiang cry out, but she dared not stop, afraid Hong Xing would truly kill her if she paused.

Ah Xiang ran toward the outer grounds, hoping to find staff members who could restrain this madwoman.

Turning a corner, she saw someone approaching and her eyes lit up.

“Master, she’s trying to kill me—help!”

Lu Yabai, having just seen off the doctor, was on his way to check on his sister. As he stepped through Yilan Garden’s gate, a shrill voice caught his attention, and before he could react, a wild woman barreled into his arms.

“Pillar—”

Ah Xiang collided with the man’s chest, thinking herself the heroine in a story. But above her came a guffaw.

“Ah—”

Ah Xiang jumped back immediately. The young master looked at her with a blank expression.

Ah Xiang: ... mortified.

“What is going on here? Look at yourselves.”

Ah Xiang hastily straightened her clothes. Hong Xing, having dropped the stick, knelt on the ground, tears streaming down her face. The aggressor now seemed more pitiful than the victim.

Ah Xiang protested, “I was just sitting quietly in my room when Hong Xing kicked the door open and tried to kill me. Even in court you need evidence, but she didn’t care, just tried to murder me. Master, you must give me justice.”

Her voice rose and fell, sweet as honey, but none of the three cared.

“Master, I know I can’t avoid punishment and dare not argue. But for the sake of your sister, please have mercy on my mistress and speak for her.”

Lu Yabai frowned, realizing the situation was more complicated.

He ignored Ah Xiang's simpering and looked at Hong Xing. “We are siblings, you needn’t remind me. Why were you not attending to my sister, but here instead?”

Hong Xing knelt and knocked her head three times on the ground, so hard her forehead began to bleed, but she ignored it and explained the events leading up to the confrontation.

The more Lu Yabai listened, the angrier he became. Last night, after entertaining guests late into the night, he returned home. The courtyard was quiet; any sound echoed loudly. Hearing noises, he found Hong Xing trying to break into the outer grounds, stopped by the staff.

To leave the inner courtyard, one had to pass through the outer grounds, which were closed at night except for urgent matters.

He heard that his sister had burned so high she was unconscious, and fearing the servants would fail to fetch a doctor, he went himself. Only after seeing the doctor off did he feel relieved, but he had not expected so much to be hidden beneath the surface.

“You vile maid, stirring up trouble here… Ah!” Lu Yabai kicked Ah Xiang aside and strode toward the inner courtyard.

Pillar signaled the staff to tie up Ah Xiang and throw her in the woodshed, then pulled Hong Xing to follow.

Let alone Lu Yabai’s fury on finding no one in his sister’s room and no hot water, Lu Yalan herself was in a strange state.

Earlier, Lu Yalan had been wrapped in golden light, her head splitting with pain, then had fainted, not noticing something foreign within her mind.

Only now did Lu Yalan realize she had gained… memories?

She had witnessed, as an observer, a girl’s extraordinary life.

Not words, not images—she could not see the girl’s face or know her name, but whenever the girl appeared, Lu Yalan simply knew what she had done.

It was like skimming through a book—not remembering names or details, but if someone mentioned it, she would recognize, “Oh, yes, I’ve read that.”

The girl’s parents died young. To survive, she sold herself as a servant, and was fortunately bought by a merchant family as a maid. She served as assistant to the tutor teaching the young master, listening quietly to lessons. Years passed; the girl grew up, her beauty blossoming, and the young master took an interest, wanting her as a concubine.

But the girl refused. Had she not learned, it would have been a blessing for a maid, but knowing how vast the world was, she did not want to be confined forever as a secondary wife.

She found a way to escape. Outside, she encountered many things, good and bad, made friends who shared her ideals, studied and learned together, discussed affairs of state.

Gradually, people gathered around her. Together, they struggled for their dreams, for the fate of their country. Along the way, she found happiness, giving birth to a lovely daughter.

Yet such a life ended abruptly at twenty-seven, when she fell beneath gunfire.

Lu Yalan lay staring at the ceiling, unable to recover for a long time. Only when water dripped into her ear did she realize she was crying.

Lu Yalan had never known a girl could live so freely and fiercely.

To fulfill one’s lifelong wish with one’s own blood and flesh—even in death, there is no regret!

So this was another way for women to live; so this was a life that did not depend on men.

“Knock knock knock”—someone tapped at the door.

Lu Yalan had just wiped her tears when the door was pushed open.

“Oh, Miss, you’re awake!” Madam Qian’s face split into a wide smile at the sight of Lu Yalan conscious, though her expression was so forced it bordered on grotesque. “You gave me such a fright, Miss. Now that you’re awake, I can rest easy. If anything had happened, how would I explain it to the second mistress?”

Madam Qian had become steward of Yilan Garden not only due to her connection to the second concubine, but also because she was Lu Yalan’s wet nurse. As long as Madam Qian made no grave error, Lu Yalan was obliged to treat her with utmost respect.