CHAPTER TWO — SUDDEN REBIRTH
Darkness swallowed everything.
It wasn't the gentle dark of night, but a suffocating, ink‑thick void that clung to her like tar. Pain pulsed through her skull in relentless waves, each throb dragging her further from the edge of oblivion.
A faint frown tugged at Su Zijin's brow as she forced her eyes open.
Instead of the cold, merciless hell she expected, a soft wisp of pink gauze drifted above her. The air was warm. The bedding beneath her was clean. There was no blood. No knife. No screaming child being carried away.
Where…?
Where am I?
Did I survive?
She pushed aside the quilt with trembling fingers—and froze.
Her belly was flat.
Her limbs were slender, almost fragile. Her hands were small, the bones delicate beneath her skin. Her entire body felt… younger. Lighter. As though time itself had peeled away years.
This wasn't the body of a dying empress.
This was a child's body.
Heart pounding, she lifted the veil and looked around. The room was simple but tidy: a modest bedroom separated from a small guest hall by a painted screen. A mahogany dressing table stood against the left wall, and the bronze mirror angled just so—reflecting her face.
Her breath caught.
Loose black hair spilled down her back. Her cheeks were round with youth, her skin soft and pale with a faint cherry tint. She looked innocent. Untouched by cruelty. Untouched by betrayal.
But the bright red bandage wrapped around her forehead was a stark reminder that this wasn't a dream.
She leaned closer, fingertips brushing her cheek.
This is me.
Me… at fourteen.
"Miss! You're awake—thank goodness!"
A girl in a pink maid's uniform hurried in, carrying a porcelain bowl. She set it down by the window and rushed to Su Zijin's side, relief softening her features.
"Miss, please drink your medicine first."
She lifted a spoonful towards Su Zijin's lips, waiting patiently.
Su Zijin stared at her—Xia He. Loyal, gentle Xia He. The girl who had died a year ago in her previous life. The girl she had failed to protect.
If she had doubted the mirror, she doubted nothing now.
She, Su Zijin, had been reborn.
Six years earlier.
Before the poison.
Before the betrayal.
Before the emperor's knife tore her open.
"Miss," Xia He murmured, mistaking her silence for grief, "I know your heart aches, but your health must come first. Eldest Madam said she'll seek justice for you. Second Miss's nonsense won't ruin your innocence."
Justice?
Second Miss?
The words struck her like a slap.
Her gaze slid to the mirror again, to the blood‑soaked bandage on her forehead. Memories surged—sharp, bitter, unforgettable.
This was the turning point.
In her previous life, Su Ying had framed her for stealing their grandmother's jade‑inlaid bracelet. No matter how her mother fought, there had been no proof. Su Zijin had been sent to the manor in disgrace, her reputation ruined, her spirit crushed.
And in that vulnerable darkness, Xiao Luochen and Su Lingshan had extended their false kindness—hooks disguised as hands.
That was where her downfall began.
But not this time.
This time, she would not be blind.
This time, she would not be used.
This time, she would not let anyone she loved be destroyed.
"Miss, please drink a little," Xia He pleaded, eyes reddening. "You've suffered so much already. Second Miss is trying to force you into a corner."
Seeing Xia He's tears tremble on her lashes, Su Zijin felt a sharp twist of guilt. Xia He had been loyal to her since childhood. And because Su Zijin had been exiled to the manor, Xia He had been left behind—giving Chun Lan the chance to rise, betray, and destroy.
Not again.
Su Zijin reached out and gently wiped the tears from Xia He's eyes. Then she took the bowl, lifted it, and drank the medicine in one long swallow.
Xia He blinked in shock. "Miss… isn't it bitter?"
It was. Bitter enough to sting her tongue.
But compared to betrayal, compared to watching her child torn from her body, compared to dying alone in a pool of blood—
This was nothing.
"Of course it's bitter," Su Zijin said quietly, her eyes turning cold. "But a little bitterness won't kill me."
"Where is Eldest Madam?" she asked, glancing towards the west courtyard.
Xia He hesitated, worry clouding her face. "She went to see the Old Madam this morning. She hasn't returned. She's been… going back and forth between the concubines."
She didn't need to finish. Su Zijin knew.
Her mother was being mocked. Ridiculed. Cornered.
Just like last time.
Before she could speak, the door burst open.
Lyu Qiao—Old Madam's favoured maid—strode in with two older servants behind her, all three wearing expressions of smug superiority.
"Oh? Eldest Miss is awake," Lyu Qiao said with a sneer. "Good. Saves us the trouble of carrying you. Come along. Old Madam is waiting."
She gestured sharply, and one of the women stepped forward.
Xia He immediately blocked them. "Miss has only just woken. She's weak. You can't drag her around like this."
Lyu Qiao scoffed and shoved her aside. "Old Madam said even if we have to carry her, we will."
She reached for Su Zijin—
But Su Zijin didn't flinch.
She sat up slowly, her expression calm—eerily calm. Like a still lake hiding a storm beneath.
"I don't need anyone to carry me," she said, voice steady. "Leave. I'll come after I wash."
Without waiting for permission, she rose, pushed aside the quilt, and walked behind the screen towards the bathing room.
Lyu Qiao opened her mouth to argue—but the memory of Su Zijin's cold, unblinking stare made her swallow her words. Even unfavoured, even injured, the eldest miss was still the eldest miss.
They waited in the guest hall, uneasy.
Inside the bathing room, Su Zijin sank into the warm water, eyes closing as steam curled around her.
"Xia He," she said softly, "after I leave, take the pearl hairpin from my dressing table and give it to Old Madam. Don't explain anything. Just say it's a gesture of filial piety."
"Yes, Miss."