On the silk brocade, a woman in a pale pink light robe stood beneath a plum blossom tree. Her chin was delicately pointed, her complexion lightly flushed with a soft pink hue, her eyes deep and profound, her nose full and prominent, her thin lips curved in a slight smile—truly like a beauty emerging from ink wash painting, lifelike and vivid.

When Master Zhou saw it, his eyes immediately reddened. He was so moved that his body trembled slightly, but since men do not easily shed tears, he forcibly swallowed them back. He rolled up the painting and presented it to his wife.

“Yes, this is Ning’er! This is exactly what she looked like in life! My poor daughter—in life you suffered from so many illnesses, and now in death, your face was so disfigured. It’s this mother who has failed you! My poor daughter…”

Madam Zhou clutched the painting, overcome with guilt and grief, crying until her face was covered with tears like pear blossoms in rain.

“Madam, please don’t grieve so. Ning’er would not want to see you so heartbroken. Your health is already poor—don’t make this husband worry so!”

Madam Zhou choked back her sobs, her eyes nearly cried blind. Finally, the maids helped her back to her room.

Ji Yunshu packed up her things, tucked the sandalwood box under her arm, and prepared to leave.

“Master Ji, please wait.” Master Zhou called after her, taking out a packet of silver and pressing it into her hands. “Please accept this silver.”

“There’s no need. I work for the yamen—the county magistrate will compensate me himself.”

She pushed the silver back and walked out of the mourning hall.

She truly could not accept that money. She served the yamen, and naturally should only receive silver from official sources. If she accepted private payments, then in the future wealthy households large and small would bypass the yamen entirely and come directly to her for work—she would be worked to death.

As the saying goes, without rules there can be no order. In the end, this arrangement still had its benefits!

The rain grew heavier. Ji Yunshu returned from the Zhou manor to the Ji family residence by the same route, not through the main gate but through the side entrance.

In the western courtyard, Luan’er rubbed her hands together anxiously while looking outside. The moment she saw Ji Yunshu return, she hurried forward to greet her.

“Miss, you’ve been out for almost two full hours. Just now the old madam sent someone over to say that some distinguished guests have arrived from the capital. She says you’re not to attend tonight’s banquet, and also that your painting of the dead has brought inauspicious energy to the household.”

“I didn’t want to go anyway. Why are you so flustered?”

“But all the other young ladies in the residence are invited—only you, Miss, are deliberately left out.” Luan’er complained.

“I’m afraid of such lively gatherings anyway, as you well know. Besides, with the rain today, it’s best to rest indoors.”

Ji Yunshu washed her hands with water from the eaves and entered the room.

Luan’er’s heart was utterly broken worrying about her mistress. With a sigh, she followed inside.

Ji Yunshu changed out of her men’s clothing. With light makeup and a fair, beautiful complexion, beneath her gentle features lay an added measure of wisdom and spiritual vitality.

Yet the beauty in the mirror was ultimately not her original appearance.

Five years ago, she had died suddenly on an operating table. Upon waking, she had somehow become the thirteen-year-old Third Miss of the Ji family of Jinjiang. As memories flooded her mind, she learned that the original owner of this body had been a spurned concubine-born daughter. Her mother had come from a brothel, and her father had only conceived her while drunk. The moment she was born, her mother died in childbirth. From childhood she had been abandoned in the side courtyard of the western wing, looked after by Nanny Zhang. Some years ago, Nanny Zhang had contracted an illness and died.

After that, the monthly allowance for the courtyard decreased month by month. The thirteen-year-old Ji Yunshu had starved until she was nothing but skin and bones, and finally starved to death.

And thus the new Ji Yunshu had come to life.

Fortunately, in the twenty-first century she had been a famous facial reconstruction specialist, creating facial models for skeletal remains excavated by archaeologists. So she decided to resume her old profession and entered service at the yamen, painting the living likenesses of those whose faces had been destroyed beyond recognition, thereby earning her food and clothing.

But because of this, the entire Ji household looked down on her even more. The Ji family was descended from a prestigious lineage, yet Ji Yunshu constantly dealt with corpses. If word of this got out, wouldn’t it utterly disgrace the Ji family?

Therefore, whenever Ji Yunshu went out on assignments, she dressed as a man and never mentioned her family background or origins. The Ji family ignored her, and she was happy to be free, taking the yamen’s salary and occasionally even able to purchase a few new outfits.

Over five years, Ji Yunshu had gradually grown accustomed to this body and could use it with complete ease.