CXD - 1

In the middle of winter, frost stretched endlessly across the horizon, and the entire city of Chang’an was steeped in a pale, cold mist.

However, the residence of the Marquis of Yong’en in Chongren Ward remained an oasis, as warm as a spring day.

On a sunny afternoon, beneath the eaves of the warm pavilion, eight maidservants dressed in identical pale green gauze blouses stood quietly by the door, each holding porcelain cups and jade ewers that gleamed with a pure white glaze.

After waiting for a moment, a hand adorned with an emerald bracelet reached out and lifted the door curtain. “Have you prepared everything I instructed?”

“Sister Jingzhe, rest assured. Everything has been arranged according to the young mistress’s preferences,” the lead maid replied crisply, pointing to each item in turn. “The tea bowl contains freshly gathered plum blossom snowwater from this morning, just warmed over the wind stove. The food box holds cherry curd and frozen flower cakes, with eight different kinds of pastries, all unique. The incense box contains ‘Safa Lan,’ the new fragrance tribute from the western region this winter. And the handkerchiefs are made of the lightest, smoothest water silk…”

“You’ve got a good memory,” Jingzhe said approvingly, eyeing her twice. “What’s your name?”

“This lowly one is called Achun.”

“From now on, you’ll be called Guyu. I’m going out for a bit. Keep your wits about you and lead them inside to serve.”

Guyu happily acknowledged the command and led the group of maidservants over the threshold, heading toward the sleeping quarters.

The noble they were about to serve was the daughter of the late Duke Ningguo. Since childhood, she had lived in the marquis’s household as a cousin, known as Young Miss Yongying.

Though not the marquis’s biological daughter, she was more cherished than any of his own children. Raised in luxury and indulgence, she had been pampered since birth: lotus root stewed with milk served as plain water, pearls ground into powder for her bath—she was the most meticulous and demanding lady in the marquis’s household, perhaps even in all the noble households of the capital.

No one knew what had happened recently, but all the maidservants of the Yaoguang Pavilion had been dismissed, leaving only Sister Jingzhe.

These newcomers were hastily thrust into their roles, secretly delighted at their good fortune while simultaneously fearing they might make a misstep and follow in the footsteps of those who came before.

Thinking of this, Guyu couldn’t help but feel nervous. She quietly reviewed the instructions Jingzhe had given her—

“The young mistress dislikes noise, especially when she first wakes up. Once inside, tread softly, move silently, and always walk behind her. Never let your movements disturb her sight.”

“The young mistress values cleanliness. Not a speck of dirt must touch her, from fingernails to nail beds. If you’re so much as dusted or muddy, don’t dare approach her or even let her see you.”

“The young mistress has delicate skin. The heated floor can easily dry out the air and harm her complexion. Remember, the water wheel in the pavilion must never stop turning to ensure the room stays humid…”

Recalling these detailed instructions, Guyu couldn’t suppress her curiosity: what kind of precious lady could demand such meticulous care?

She looked up and caught her first glimpse of the “honored one.”

On the beauty couch in the sleeping quarters lay a young maiden, clad only in a milky-white undergarment and draped with a translucent yellow gauze robe. Beneath the ethereal fabric, her shoulders and neck glowed with a lustrous sheen, her bosom full and curves perfectly proportioned, exuding grace and elegance.

Above, her jet-black hair shone like satin, framing an oval face as clear and translucent as polished jade. Her brows were dark, her lips crimson—every feature seemed painted into perfection, beautiful enough to rival celestial maidens.

Guyu was momentarily stunned, her steps faltering. Hurriedly regaining composure, she approached the couch and awkwardly presented the tea bowl: “Young Mistress, please have some tea.”

A soft chime rang out as an armlet lightly clinked. A long yet well-proportioned hand lazily reached out to take the tea bowl.

Guyu discreetly raised her eyes, following the gleaming wrist upward.

There, the young lady sat with her almond-shaped eyes lowered, her expression weary. After rinsing her mouth, she rested her hand against her temple, her demeanor listless as a maid behind her combed her hair. She appeared troubled.

Could even celestial maidens have worries?

As Guyu retrieved the tea tray, curiosity tugged at her. In her distraction, she accidentally knocked the tea bowl, sending it tumbling toward the edge of the couch.

Guyu gasped sharply, not yet able to apologize, when another voice exclaimed: “Ouch—”

Turning her head, she saw the maid combing the young mistress’s hair clutching the comb and kneeling down. “This lowly one… this clumsy one pulled the young mistress’s hair… please forgive me!”

The entire room of maids froze in place, exchanging nervous glances. One by one, like dumplings falling into a pot, they knelt down in succession: “Please forgive us!”

Lady Jiang Zhiyi frowned, pressing her palm against the throbbing spot on her scalp. Her long, black lashes slowly swept downward, catching sight of the water stain on her skirt. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply.

How had she ended up in a situation where she couldn’t even find capable maids to serve her?

All things considered, it was the fault of that accursed storybook.

The winter days were both cold and dry, and Lady Jiang Zhiyi disliked venturing outside. Bored recently, she had flipped through a collection of fashionable storybooks sent by a bookshop. One of them, The Tale of Yi Yi , featured a protagonist whose name sounded like hers. Feeling a connection, she picked it up and began reading.

This story wasn’t particularly novel—it recounted the romantic entanglements of a young cousin living under someone else’s roof in the capital.

The beginning was predictable: the girl lost her parents at a young age, had no one to rely on, and sought refuge with relatives. At their estate, she met a handsome young man and fell in love at first sight…

Lady Jiang Zhiyi had grown tired of such clichéd tales of cousins in love.

After all, she herself was a cousin living in the household. Since losing her parents at the age of seven, she had been taken in by her uncle at the Marquis of Yong’en’s residence.

Unfortunately, none of the cousins in the household were particularly accomplished, nor were they handsome. Each time she saw stories of affectionate cousins, she would glance at her own cousins and lose all interest.

What made The Tale of Yi Yi somewhat refreshing was that the protagonist fell for not her cousin but her cousin’s schoolmate—a detail that intrigued Lady Jiang Zhiyi enough to pass the time with the book.

Little did she know, the book seemed to “come alive” as she read.

In the story, Yi Yi and the young man quickly fell in love, but their relationship brought nothing but misfortune.

When Yi Yi tried to send a message to her lover via carrier pigeon, the pigeon died.

When she entrusted a servant to deliver a keepsake to her lover, the servant pawned it off and ran away with the money.

When she took a carriage to meet her lover in secret, the footstool collapsed as soon as she stepped on it, spraining her ankle.

Reading this, Lady Jiang Zhiyi reflected: at least the footstool collapsed at the estate’s gate and not in public. Otherwise, as a noblewoman of the capital, though a sprained ankle might heal, her reputation could not.

The very next day, she left the estate. As she stepped out of the carriage, the footstool collapsed with a loud crash right in the middle of the street.

“…”

Everyone on the street turned to stare.

Lady Jiang Zhiyi, unaccustomed to such attention, pulled her veil over her face and promptly returned to the carriage. Back at the estate, she sat silently in front of her mirror for the duration of a cup of tea, then silently dismissed the estate’s cook without a word.

It wasn’t until a full day later that the dense staff finally understood her meaning. A crowd of carriage drivers and servants rushed to kneel before her, pleading: “It’s not because we’ve gained weight that the stool broke! Please cherish your esteemed body. Punish us instead!”

Would punishing them restore her dignity after being left stranded in the street?

Lady Jiang Zhiyi waved her hand dismissively, instructing them to reinforce the footstools with ten layers of copper and iron. That settled the matter—for now.

At the time, she dismissed it as mere coincidence.

But two days later, feeling better, she picked up the book again. She read how Yi Yi, dressing up for her beloved, commissioned a new gown from a tailor—only for it to vanish without a trace.

This time, Lady Jiang Zhiyi didn’t even have time to reflect before a maid reported that the new saffron skirt she’d ordered from the tailor had arrived in an empty box.

“…”

Lady Jiang Zhiyi glanced at the book, then asked the maid: “Did the shopkeeper puff up his beard and glare, insisting he personally placed the skirt in the box and accusing the shop of theft?”

“How did you know, Young Mistress?”

Because that’s exactly what the book described.

Holding the book, Lady Jiang Zhiyi found herself intrigued.

Could it be that this volume of black ink on white paper possessed some supernatural power, causing events she read to manifest in reality?

If so, she was determined to see what other tricks the book had in store.

She turned to the next calamity in the story: Yi Yi discovered half a dead rat in a gift box sent by her lover. Contemplating this, Lady Jiang Zhiyi considered her own situation.

She didn’t have a lover, but many men wished to become one. Coincidentally, her birthday was in three days, and she knew the young nobles were scrambling for rare treasures to win her favor.

She decided to give them a chance. She announced that anyone who visited with a gift within three days would receive a cup of tea as thanks.

The response was overwhelming. Young noblemen nearly trampled the estate’s threshold, and even noblewomen who hadn’t visited in years came to join the spectacle.

Yet, despite Jingzhe inspecting every gift box for three days, not a single rat—dead or alive—was found.

“It seems ghosts and spirits fear the powerful,” Jingzhe joked. “They only dare sabotage commoners’ shops, not noble families.”

Lady Jiang Zhiyi agreed. The book’s magic seemed limited. With a snort, she continued reading.

Flipping to the next page, she read about Yi Yi’s aunt.

It turned out that the aunt hadn’t taken Yi Yi in out of pity but because her own son was ill and needed Yi Yi’s auspicious presence to ward off evil.

Seeing her son improve after Yi Yi’s arrival, the aunt refused to let “the benefits flow to outsiders” and schemed tirelessly to prevent Yi Yi from being with her lover.

Yi Yi’s supposed streak of bad luck was, in fact, the result of her aunt’s machinations.

Yet, no matter how the aunt interfered, she couldn’t separate the two lovers.

Out of options, the aunt turned to a Taoist priest for a desperate remedy:

By cutting a strand of hair from both the man and woman, braiding them together, and placing them in a specially prepared sachet worn by the man for a month, the woman would gradually become infatuated with him. Their union would then allow the man to “absorb yin and replenish yang.”

Lady Jiang Zhiyi wrinkled her nose in disgust, ready to discard the vile book, when she suddenly paused.

She remembered that last month, shortly after waking up, her maid had noticed a strand of her hair was missing.

The break was unusually clean, but at the time, everyone assumed it was her mischievous cat who had chewed it off.

Could it be that her hair had been stolen for some sinister purpose?

Staring at the still-missing strand, a chill ran down Lady Jiang Zhiyi’s spine. She snapped the book shut.

From that day on, she couldn’t sleep a full night. Every time she closed her eyes, she dreamed of someone sneaking into her room at night to cut her hair.

In her dreams, the perpetrator was always someone close to her. Upon waking, she naturally couldn’t trust her attendants anymore.

She temporarily reassigned her personal maids to the outer courtyard and tasked Jingzhe with investigating whether her hair had fallen into the hands of any male members of the household.

Just as she finished this thought, a knock sounded at the door. Jingzhe returned: “Young Mistress, the item you requested has arrived.”

Lady Jiang Zhiyi straightened her posture and waved her sleeve to the side.

The kneeling maidservants filed out, heads bowed.

Jingzhe closed the door, too hurried to ask questions, and immediately handed over a silver incense burner decorated with floral patterns: “The eldest young master’s sachet.”

Lady Jiang Zhiyi glanced at it, then picked it up with a silk handkerchief beneath her palm.

She would never have touched her cousin’s personal belongings if it weren’t absolutely necessary.

Her eldest cousin was the marquis’s only legitimate son, spoiled rotten by his mother due to his frailty as a child. He had barely studied, spending his days gambling or frequenting brothels and taverns. By the time he reached adulthood, he had earned a reputation as a “man of five vices.”

A few years ago, a courtesan even showed up at the estate, claiming to carry his child and demanding recognition. The scandal caused quite a stir.

In the end, the woman didn’t enter the household. Lady Jiang Zhiyi’s aunt, ever pragmatic, knew that keeping the child would ruin her son’s chances of marrying into a prestigious family. She forced the woman to abort and sent her away from the capital, handling the matter with practiced efficiency.

Her cousin treated the entire episode as a joke, resuming his visits to pleasure houses shortly afterward.

Later, Lady Jiang Zhiyi overheard him boasting to his friends about some elixir that promised unparalleled ecstasy and soul-consuming sensations…

Seeing her cousin’s sunken eyes and shadowed face, she felt disgusted even looking at him.

Yesterday, Jingzhe informed her that the eldest young master had indeed been wearing a sachet recently. Lady Jiang Zhiyi found it hard to believe.

Unless he had lost his mind, how could he dare use such tactics on her?

With countless eligible bachelors in the capital for her to choose from, she hadn’t even glanced at any of them. If she suddenly became infatuated with someone as disreputable as him, wouldn’t everyone realize she had been bewitched?

Wouldn’t this absurd remedy collapse under its own weight?

Her cousin was already ugly and immoral—surely he wasn’t so utterly inept as to lack even basic intelligence.

With that thought, Lady Jiang Zhiyi opened the sachet’s clasp and peered inside. Instantly, she recoiled, dropping it with a startled cry.

Jingzhe jumped in surprise, staring wide-eyed as something tumbled out of the small container: “What is…!”

Lady Jiang Zhiyi frantically wiped her hands with a handkerchief, her red lips trembling several times before she managed to speak: “This… this fool, he’s truly lost his mind!”