Luo Ying entered carrying medicinal soup. Seeing her master so close to Miss Mo Zi—their noses practically touching—she was greatly startled and nearly lost her grip on the tray.
Mo Zi saw Luo Ying’s astonished expression and said to Yuan Cheng, “Sir, it’s better not to get too close. I’m not afraid, but I fear others will misunderstand.”
Yuan Cheng heard movement behind him but wasn’t in a hurry to step back. Reaching out, he actually tucked the silk quilt that had slipped from Mo Zi’s body back around her. “Miss Mo Zi’s body is still weak—be careful not to catch cold.”
In Luo Ying’s eyes, this was an extremely intimate gesture. In Mo Zi’s eyes, Yuan Cheng was creating cover for deliberately approaching the bed.
“Thank you for your concern, sir.” Mo Zi smoothed the silk quilt.
Yuan Cheng retreated to the round table.
After she’d had her fill of soup and congee, Luo Ying cleared away and left. Only then did their conversation truly begin.
“In Nande, Mo Zi wasn’t sincerely saving you either, sir. If you hadn’t offered a good price, you might also be a dead man by now. However, if I hadn’t saved you then, you wouldn’t resent me, would you?” At the time, she’d been thinking of just walking away—whoever he was, whether he lived or died had nothing to do with her.
“Naturally not.” Yuan Cheng answered.
“Then naturally I won’t resent you either, sir. You and I had a one-month agreement. If I was foolish, it was my own path to death—nothing to do with you, sir. But don’t underestimate me, sir.” Mo Zi smiled. “That day, if you had called me Mo Ge, I would have explained more carefully and absolutely ensured you kept your word.” Otherwise, vengeful ghost time!
Yuan Cheng’s dark eyes brightened and he also smiled. “Miss Mo Zi’s tenacity—I admire it greatly.”
“Now, I saved your life once, you saved my life once.” Mo Zi clasped her fists from the bed. “Sir, this debt is owed neither to Mo Ge nor to Mo Zi.”
Yuan Cheng was a scholar and didn’t use Mo Zi’s common marketplace mannerisms, but he smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Miss Mo Zi.”
“Sir, though you and I have cleared this debt, we needn’t become strangers.” These words were beyond Yuan Cheng’s expectations.
Mo Zi couldn’t see through Yuan Cheng, and Yuan Cheng likewise couldn’t see through Mo Zi, so he asked, “Miss Mo Zi said everyone has their own aspirations, and the past is best not mentioned—these words made me think you didn’t want to be too entangled with me, and even seeking help was unwilling.”
“Times change.” Who could have known her past would come knocking at her door?
“I suppose I shouldn’t ask what you mean by changing times?” No need to become strangers?
“Before I answer your question, sir, may I ask you something?” During these three drowsy days, she’d thought quite a bit. Before recovering her memory, Qiu Sanniang’s shelter had been sufficient. Now a tornado was coming—Qiu Sanniang wouldn’t be enough. She needed bronze walls and iron ramparts, steel reinforcement and concrete—everything solid and indestructible to resist.
Yuan Cheng was undoubtedly a rare, excellent material.
“Miss Mo Zi, please ask.” Yuan Cheng was politely courteous.
“Sir, I won’t ask how you got out of the palace. I only ask—what you carry on your back, have you set it down?” Yuan Cheng drank with colleagues, visited pleasure houses with jianghu people, busy and thoroughly enjoying himself. Mo Zi saw it all and very much wanted to know what he ultimately intended.
Yuan Cheng’s gaze sharpened. Why was she asking him about his national hatred and family vengeance?
“What if I’ve set it down, what if I haven’t?” But since Mo Zi was direct, he wouldn’t hide either.
“If you’ve set it down, sir, and live like an idle cloud or wandering crane, Mo Zi will henceforth be a good friend who discusses everything under heaven with you, without troublesome matters. If you can’t set it down and must seek justice for your relatives no matter what, but lack helping hands, as long as you don’t mind, sir, Mo Zi is willing to share one part and do her utmost.” She had no money or power, only a lifetime of learning and a pair of hands that worked equally well left or right.
This was offering her strength to him. No matter how gentle Yuan Cheng’s exterior, astonishment rippled through his eyes. He wasn’t a god—naturally he didn’t know all the stories Mo Zi carried.
“Miss Mo Zi, though you and I haven’t known each other deeply, from what I understand of you, you’re not a fickle person. Could this be related to your injury this time?” Only this explanation made sense.
“Sir hasn’t answered me yet.” She needed to know Yuan Cheng’s intentions to decide whether she should be in the same boat with him.
“I’ll answer you honestly—I don’t know.” Yuan Cheng looked at Mo Zi, his gaze clear without lies. “Whether to set it down or not, at least at this moment when you’re asking me, I haven’t decided.”
“Then is sir just drifting with the current?” Behind Yuan Cheng was a force trying to manipulate him—she could sense it.
If he didn’t praise her again, Yuan Cheng felt he’d be failing Heaven’s arrangement in placing this person before him. He nodded and smiled. “Well put—’drifting with the current.'”
“Thank you for the praise, sir. However, I see that while you’re drifting with the current, you seem intent on creating an undercurrent.” Not having decided meant struggling. When struggling, instinct guides direction. The deeper Yuan Cheng’s thoughts, the more likely he couldn’t let go.
“Miss Mo Zi, I was Nande’s number one corrupt official. Coming to Great Zhou, I couldn’t possibly become a man with clean sleeves, could I? An Imperial Academy erudite—the court’s monthly stipend doesn’t even cover when the garden can be repaired. If you hadn’t reminded me about the rabbits, eating fish and meat every meal, and being hospitable, constantly entertaining people at home with good wine and food—I’d have eaten through everything long ago. Poverty limits ambition—I thought you’d deeply understand this.” The rabbits truly were this few.
Mo Zi countered, “Going from luxury to frugality is difficult for you, sir—don’t use me as an example. Though I have no money, I also have nowhere to spend it.”
“Miss Mo Zi is right—I’m ashamed.” Yuan Cheng admitted readily. “I’ve answered your question. Please answer mine. What do you mean by changing times?”
“Then was when I thought I had no need of you, sir. Now is when I’ve realized nothing is absolute. They say you have world-shocking talent, sir. If someday you achieve great success in Great Zhou, wouldn’t it be foolish if I pretended to be aloof?” Build good relations—seek help when needed, lean on him when not.
“Is the fox praising the crow again?” Previously calling him a scorpion, last time a crow—neither were flattering.
Mo Zi chuckled and shook her head, not admitting to flattery. “Sir, I know the debt is cleared, we owe each other nothing. But may I presume to be your friend?” Even the most ordinary kind would do.
Yuan Cheng suddenly stopped speaking, just looking at Mo Zi.
Mo Zi outwardly let him look openly, inwardly smiling bitterly. Being able to say such words made her face ring with shamelessness.
“Mo Ge.” After a long while, he called her by her male name.
Mo Zi couldn’t help but straighten her back, responding with “Yes.”
“Though you won’t tell me the truth, if you won’t say, I won’t ask. If you don’t mind that I’ll use you, why can’t we be friends?” That is to say, he would use her—if she was still willing, then friends it was.
“Yuan Cheng, I return those words to you.” From this moment, Mo Zi called him by name directly. “I once heard someone say, ‘Those who share benefits are friends.’ Now it seems those with mutual benefits can also be friends.”
People say, is this how you make friends?
That’s right, these two did it exactly this way, and quite smoothly too. The former number one corrupt official and the lowliest maid became friends. Whether their friendship was genuine—nobody need worry about it.
A Western saying goes: A friend in need is a friend indeed. Mo Zi took the first half of that sentence. If Yuan Cheng had heard it, he’d definitely also take the first half. Both valued the other’s—mind.
Yuan Cheng left.
Mo Zi slid into the silk quilt, curled up hugging her knees, teeth clenched, entire body trembling.
Why do you think she changed her principled intentions and planned to build good relations with Yuan Cheng?
Because she’d remembered—everything. Within three days of awakening, wave after wave of memories recreated past days one by one.
One could only say her intuition was correct—it would have been better to forget everything.
She wasn’t from Yuling but from Daqiu. Her father, Song Yu, was an imperial craftsman in the Daqiu palace. From when she’d transmigrated into the ten-year-old Song Mo Zi’s body, there were no memories of a mother. She had a brother five years older called Song Zhen, and a sister two years younger called Song Doulü—originally a very ordinary family of four.
Daqiu was a nation built by people from horseback—what they lacked most were skilled craftsmen. This was why Song Yu, despite mediocre qualifications, could become an imperial craftsman. Mo Zi’s brother Song Zhen had even less interest in woodworking, single-mindedly studying the Four Books and Five Classics, wanting to be the top scholar. The original Mo Zi didn’t carve wood or play with cutting tools. Later, Mo Zi discovered her left hand was far more dexterous than her right, and with an obsession for her past life’s shipbuilding, she begged Song Yu to teach her the basics, then surprisingly mastered it without formal instruction. The ability to identify wood was innate—at first, one touch could distinguish quality. Later, after reading more books, she could directly apply it to specific tree names, accurate to the point that even Mo Zi herself was astonished.
The newly transmigrated her had no scheming. A soldier’s straightforwardness and professional habits made her unconsciously display shocking talent in woodcraft and shipbuilding. Song Yu used this to become Junior Supervisor of Crafts. Song Zhen used this to gain official position. The Song family rose steadily, gaining the Daqiu Emperor’s favor. Fortunately, those in the know believed Mo Zi’s talent shouldn’t be exposed and highly concealed her gifted abilities. The Daqiu people only knew the names Song Yu and Song Zhen.
When Mo Zi discovered her shipbuilding skills were being used by those in power to wage war, she began conflicting with the Daqiu royal family, later escalating to fierce confrontation.
At sixteen, Song Yu suddenly took the three siblings to Yuling. The Yuling Emperor loved wood carving crafts and, having long heard of Song Yu’s name, immediately gave him high office and generous salary. She naively thought Song Yu had been persuaded by her not to be an accomplice and had defected to Yuling. In Yuling, she never again revealed her shipbuilding skills, focusing instead on improving agricultural tools, living two years of peaceful life. Who knew that two years later she’d learn her father and elder brother were actually spies Daqiu had sent to Yuling.
The day Daqiu’s navy defeated Yuling, correspondence between her father and brother with Daqiu was presented before the Yuling Emperor, and they were immediately dragged out and beheaded. When she got the news, she hastily fled with Doulü but encountered pursuit. To protect her sister, she drew away the pursuers, was gravely injured, fell from a cliff, and landed in a river. As a result, Qiu Sanniang picked her up.
Family affection for her father and brother was the origin of everything. However, her greatest mistake was misplacing trust in one person. Or rather, that person changed, but she deceived herself. Xiang’er, Ye’er—anyone could deceive her without consequence, but that person!
Having experienced this, even with amnesia, her instincts became cunning, cautious, calculating repeatedly, unable to open her heart again.
Now she needed to preserve her life and find the scattered Doulü. The fastest method was to find the strongest alliance!
Yuan Cheng was one such—