Zheng Qian had grown fond of solitude lately.
In her room, she kept the door tightly shut, forbidding any maid or housekeeper from entering. Everyone else had their own troubles, worried about where their next meal would come from, and had no time to notice Zheng Qian's unusual behavior.
After all, their young mistress had always been prone to brooding in silence.
As the eldest daughter, she should have been well-loved—but she had a younger half-sister, only two months her junior.
That half-sister was Zheng Yutan, the second young lady.
Zheng Yutan was breathtakingly beautiful, clever and obedient from a young age, a true darling of their grandmother and father. Meanwhile, the eldest daughter had been a bit slow in childhood, only speaking at age three. Step by step, she had always lagged behind her half-sister, never able to catch up.
Zheng Qian had adored her father, but he barely noticed her, treating her perfunctorily. Her mother had once been doting, but when her older brother had suffered a terrible accident at sixteen—losing a leg—her mother's heart had broken. She no longer had the time to care for Zheng Qian.
So Zheng Qian became fiercely determined, always striving to prove herself before her grandmother, father, and mother. But her efforts were limited. Instead of achievements, she accumulated countless embarrassments, highlighting her half-sister's extraordinary grace and earning the family's affection.
The maids had long been disappointed in their mistress. Now, they only hoped she would behave, avoid angering the matriarch and the second young lady, and survive the year quietly.
Next year, she would marry.
Perhaps life would change once she went to her husband's household.
Zheng Qian was betrothed to the wealthy Wen family, imperial merchants.
In recent years, the emperor had deliberately suppressed noble families while elevating commoners, making low-born generals more loyal. Families of high rank, if lacking cunning or thrift, often found themselves financially strained and compelled to marry into merchant households.
They scorned merchants while coveting their wealth.
The old marquis of the Jing'an household had long squandered the family fortune on wine, women, and gambling. Had he not married the third madam—a merchant's daughter—the household would have collapsed long ago.
As a result, more nobles were forced to marry merchants to survive.
In this context, Zheng Qian had been promised to the Wen family. She was engaged at fifteen, nearly eighteen now, but had not yet gone to her husband's house because her fiancé's grandfather had recently passed. As the eldest grandson, he had to observe three years of mourning.
Zheng Qian paid little mind to these formalities.
Back in her room, she placed her cat on the table and took out paper.
"Ugh, this brush is so hard to handle," she muttered, but still began painting with it.
Zheng Qian was clever. Even with a difficult brush, after a few tries she had mastered it.
Her medical space contained many supplies she had used before—including paper—but she avoided using them publicly, to prevent awkward explanations. She would make do unless absolutely necessary.
She painted diligently.
Her cat, A-Chou, watched her intently, eyes fixed on every stroke.
Halfway through, noticing his focus, she couldn't help but laugh. She lightly tapped his tiny nose with her finger. "Do you understand what I'm drawing?"
A-Chou lifted his gaze to her.
Zheng Qian cooed, "Your eyes are beautiful—like two natural gems! I love you so much!"
A-Chou: "…"
For some reason, Zheng Qian found his expression hilariously human—part shy, part indignant, as if saying: "Flirtatious woman!"
She knew cats didn't express human emotions; it was all in her imagination.
Content, she continued painting.
When she finished, she opened her drawer and found two small pieces of silver, each weighing one tael—the last of her cash.
She changed her clothes, picked up the cat, and headed out.
Seeing this, the maid Hongluan hurried over. "Miss, where are you going?"
"I'm going out for a bit."
"You cannot leave without the matriarch's permission! Please don't anger her now," Hongluan urged.
Zheng Qian's eyes curved with a sly smile. "Shh… if you won't let me go, I'll sneak out. Don't make a sound."
Hongluan: "…"
Watching her mistress boldly step out the gate, Hongluan had no choice but to follow.
Thus, she saw the young lady—so much for sneaking—walk out in plain view.
Hongluan hurried to the carriage house to fetch a horse-drawn carriage. If the matriarch discovered this, she would be furious.
The Zheng household was struggling financially, and the matriarch cared deeply about rules and appearances. The young lady leaving on foot, without a maid, was a direct affront.
"Miss, please get in the carriage. Where are you going?" Hongluan called as the carriage caught up to Zheng Qian.
Zheng Qian wondered what era she was truly living in.
She tested the rules: women could go out freely, so it wasn't Ming or Qing. Everyone appeared Han Chinese, so it wasn't Yuan. Perhaps Tang, or earlier. More likely, it was a parallel version of history she didn't recognize.
Once in the carriage, she instructed, "Go to the nearest street. Find a pawnshop."
Hongluan's temper flared. She felt a pang in her chest hearing this, her concern for the young lady clashing with her frustration.
"You don't have to pawn anything. Just apologize to the matriarch and it's over. Why insist? She doesn't like stubbornness—it won't benefit you at all," Hongluan pleaded.
The maid's fiery temper sometimes made her sharp-tongued, but she had a soft heart.
"The thing is, I can't apologize for someone else," Zheng Qian said with a helpless smile. "The young lady of this body tried to kill herself. She wouldn't want to apologize anyway."
Since she had taken over the body, she wouldn't let the original soul continue to suffer. Zheng Qian had inherited all her memories—she knew the resentment, the jealousy.
If she dared apologize, the original soul could never rest. Besides, Zheng Qian was no pushover.
Orphaned since childhood, she had no real sense of family. The orphanage had honed her cold, calculating nature.
An apology was unnecessary.
Starving her was difficult anyway. Her trip to the pawnshop wasn't to pawn anything—it was to investigate something.
Hongluan: "…"
The maid misinterpreted Zheng Qian's intentions, thinking she only cared about her monthly allowance, ignoring her mistress's hardships. She cried again.
Facing this sharp-tongued, tender-hearted maid, Zheng Qian could only sigh.
"Don't worry. The money will come. Stop crying," she said, her words dry but reassuring.
She didn't know how else to comfort the girl.