“Where is Qian Jing?” the assassin demanded in a low growl.

Qian Jing?

The diary had mentioned it — a keepsake the original owner had given to Su Chengxian as a love token. So this assassin was not sent by Su Chengxian, otherwise he wouldn’t be ignorant of the fact that it had already been given away. Given how this plot was unfolding, “Qian Jing” was almost certainly another key item — possibly a treasure map key, a jade pendant, something of that sort.

Unfortunately the original owner’s diary was purely an emotional stream-of-consciousness — Qian Jing had only been mentioned once, and Lin Sui’an had far too little information. This was the perfect opportunity to extract some intelligence from this assassin’s mouth.

Lin Sui’an stood up and dusted off her clothes. “You are the third.”

The assassin paused. “What?”

“You are the third person to come looking for Qian Jing.” Lin Sui’an pointed toward the window. “The first two are already out there fertilizing the garden.”

“Impossible!” The assassin blurted it out — then in the very next second realized his slip, and his eyes flashed. He whirled his long blade low to the ground and charged; the wind from the blade sliced through the grass mats with a sharp tearing sound.

Good lord — he’s serious!

Lin Sui’an backed away rapidly, but in just a few steps was pressed up against the wall. With the blade’s cold gleam and killing wind already upon her, Lin Sui’an’s body seemed to trip some strange switch — she suddenly shot her left foot forward, kicked off the wall behind her, and leveraged the rebound to spring into the air. Her body curled tight, flipping a somersault in midair, and when awareness returned she was standing solidly behind the assassin.

The assassin was stunned. Lin Sui’an was stunned too.

What just happened? Muscle memory?!

Before she could come to her senses the assassin shouted and swung the blade back around. The strike should have been fast, but to Lin Sui’an’s eyes it looked slow — she could even read the blade’s trajectory. Her body moved on its own again: she sank her weight, dropped into a horse stance, and crossed both wrists in an X to catch the assassin’s blade-hand dead-on.

The blade edge hung less than twenty centimeters from her eyes, yet Lin Sui’an felt not a shred of fear. She could feel the assassin’s hand trembling violently with the effort, but her own arms and wrists held like iron clamps, completely immovable. This body was telling her: the assassin’s strength didn’t amount to much.

Then — crack — the assassin’s wrist made a sharp sound, like a dislocation.

The assassin was sweating in great drops; the upper half of his face above the mask contorted, the whites of his eyes shot through with blood. “How — how is this possible?! Can it be that the rumor about Qian Jing’s master being able to defeat a hundred single-handedly is true?!”

Well, well. She had that kind of reputation?

“Yes, it’s true!” Lin Sui’an said.

Who cared if it was true or not — as long as it intimidated him.

The assassin’s pupils constricted violently. He leapt backward several steps and then vaulted out through the window, vanishing into the night.

Lin Sui’an breathed out a long breath and pressed her hand to her chest, slowly sinking to the floor. Those last few moves had seemingly pulled at her wound again — she barely managed not to cough up blood; if she had, she would certainly have blown her cover.

The assassin had claimed it was impossible for anyone else to be searching for Qian Jing, which meant the secret of Qian Jing was known to very few people. That was useful information — it suggested she was not in immediate danger of being swarmed from all sides for now.

She hadn’t sensed anything like a dantian or the flow of inner energy through meridians just now. The original owner probably had no internal cultivation; the assassin had also relied on brute physical force. Perhaps this world had no inner energy system at all — or perhaps she simply hadn’t yet encountered anyone who used it. Fortunately, this body’s eyesight and physical strength were both remarkable; self-preservation should pose no real problem.

Having swiftly sorted through the useful information, Lin Sui’an let out a breath, glanced at the wrecked state of the room, rolled her shoulders, tucked the diary under her pillow, and settled comfortably into bed.

“Things being as they are — sleep first.”

She slept deeply and soundly, and when she opened her eyes the sun had climbed high overhead. Golden-yellow light spilled across the tattered bamboo mats, giving them a somewhat lonely quality.

Lin Sui’an lay staring at the window, thoughts still. A sparrow darted past the eaves, trailing a thread of cool breeze.

…She really had transmigrated.

One night’s sleep had improved her spirits considerably; the stifling ache in her chest was gone. Lin Sui’an pulled fresh clothes from her bundle and changed — the previous night’s outfit was soaked in sweat and blood, and she wasn’t sure it could be washed clean. The original owner’s clothes had a distinctive style: crow-blue cotton, round collar, narrow sleeves, the hem falling just below the calves. The trousers were loose-fitting, similar to modern drawstring athletic pants. Lin Sui’an imitated the original owner’s method, tying the trouser cuffs tight at the ankle, then jumped in place. She felt quite sharp.

Even more delightful was the discovery, tucked inside the roll of clothes, of a floral cloth pouch containing two strings of copper coins. Lin Sui’an counted them: fifty coins to a string. The coins were classic antique copper pieces, round with a square hole in the center, slightly off-white in color, cast with four characters around the square opening: Xuan Yuan Tong Bao.

Knock knock knock — someone rapped at the door. “Has Lin Niangzi risen? The master of the house requests your presence.” Meng Man’s voice.

Almost certainly the drama of the four-way love tangle continuing. Lin Sui’an sighed inwardly, pocketed the coin pouch, thought for a moment, and brought the diary along as well.

Outside, the daylight was cheerful and bright. Meng Man had two enormous dark circles under his eyes; he glanced into the wrecked room, and something shifted briefly in his expression.

Lin Sui’an felt a bit awkward. “Last night there was… a slight incident…”

“I’ll have the servants come and tidy it later.” Whether it was Lin Sui’an’s imagination or not, Meng Man’s expression seemed to have brightened somewhat. “Please come with me.”

They followed the covered walkway around the rear courtyard and through a side gate into the front courtyard, which was quite open. In the center stood a pavilion — over a zhang in height, with black tiles and black columns on a brick foundation, long bamboo blinds rolled beneath the eaves. Meng Man led Lin Sui’an up the pavilion steps; inside, on the north side, stood a three-panel bamboo screen with no pattern at all, clean and understated. Before the screen sat — rather, knelt — a powerfully built middle-aged man in black clothing, his temples graying, his expression grave and still.

Lin Sui’an understood: this was the master of the Luo household — and the man who had rescued her: Luo Shichuan.

Luo Kou was on Luo Shichuan’s left, clutching a handkerchief, her eyes red and swollen, looking like a little rabbit. Meng Man settled to one side.

To the east and west, some ten or so people sat in formal kneeling posture, each with a small table before them bearing a tea set. These were men and women ranging from their twenties to their forties; the men had rough, sun-darkened skin, while the women wore silk skirts and towering hair arrangements. Every single one of them was watching Lin Sui’an — evidently Luo family members.

Su Chengxian had arrived long before and sat ramrod-straight in the center, fine perspiration beading on the back of his neck. An empty cushion beside him was presumably Lin Sui’an’s place.

Lin Sui’an dragged her cushion and tea table two full meters away from Su Chengxian and settled herself — or rather, knelt — under the baffled stares of the assembled company, wincing inwardly.

This kneeling posture was absolute torture on the legs.

“Lin Niangzi, how is your wound?” Luo Shichuan asked.

“Much better, thank you for your concern, Master Luo.”

“We spoke the day before yesterday about a certain matter, Lin Niangzi. Have you made your decision?”

Lin Sui’an: What matter? The diary didn’t say anything about this.

Her first instinct was to glance at Meng Man, but he had his eyes lowered and did not look up. Su Chengxian, however, was looking over at her, eyes rimmed red, expression heavy with sorrow. Lin Sui’an noticed then that he was actually reasonably good-looking — regular features, pale skin, red lips — he had the air of a refined young scholar. His lips moved: he seemed to be mouthing—

【An Niang…】

“An Niang” was Su Chengxian’s pet name for the original owner.

Lin Sui’an could barely suppress a laugh. Did he really think that putting on that expression and using that name would make her — out of selfless love — allow this scoundrel to have his way?

“The young master Su has already said it himself: he only agreed to the engagement because your father had done him a great favor and entrusted you to his care on his deathbed. He holds no romantic feelings for you whatsoever.”

“Young Master Su is supremely talented, and our Luo family’s daughter is beautiful and accomplished — they are a match made in heaven. Lin family Niangzi, why must you stand in the way of their happiness?”

“Young Master Su is of a scholar-official great family — and what are you, Lin Niangzi?”

“Young woman, you are new to the world and your vision is shallow. Let me advise you: a person of worth knows their own limitations.”

“The Luo family will not treat Lin Niangzi unfairly. If you are willing to dissolve the engagement, the Luo family will give six strings of coins for travel expenses and see you to Dingan County to seek your kin.”

“Our Luo family saved your life, Lin Niangzi, and we have already made generous concessions. Do not repay our kindness with ingratitude.”

The assembled family members chimed in one after another to “advise” her — one picking up where another left off, with a tidy structure that suggested they had rehearsed this many times before. From all appearances they had been “advising” the original owner just like this for quite a while.

Lin Sui’an sat through every word without missing one, then scratched her head. “How much does pork cost per jin these days?”

A completely out-of-nowhere remark. The entire room went blank.

“Let me put it another way,” Lin Sui’an said, uncrossing her numb legs and switching to a cross-legged sitting posture. “How many jin of pork can six strings of coins buy?”

Everyone was even more astonished, looking at Lin Sui’an as though she were a madwoman.

Only Luo Shichuan’s expression did not change in the slightest. He fixed Lin Sui’an with a steady look and said, “Five hundred coins will buy one pig. Six strings of coins will buy twelve pigs.”

“Oh my, not bad then — so Su Lang, you’re apparently worth twelve pigs.” Lin Sui’an smiled.

“Lin Sui’an, don’t push your luck!” Su Chengxian erupted in fury; the assembled family members shot to their feet, looking as though they were about to rush over and beat Lin Sui’an en masse.

“I agree to dissolve the engagement,” Lin Sui’an said, snapping the smile off her face in an instant. “Su Chengxian — give Qian Jing back to me.”

To Lin Sui’an’s great surprise, Qian Jing was not a jade pendant. It was a rather unusual ring-pommel blade — and it had been carried in by two burly men.

The blade was heavy, but it felt exactly right in Lin Sui’an’s grip. The scabbard was cast from black iron, the surface lacquered black with a grainy texture and not a single decorative pattern; the grip bore two seal-script characters: “Qian Jing.” Drawing the blade from the scabbard: the blade was straight and narrow, three fingers wide, two chi long. Across the blade surface, dark-green flecks had appeared — either rust or mold — giving the entire cutting edge a murky greenish hue.

The blade looked heavy and worthless. No wonder Su Chengxian had returned it without a moment’s hesitation.

“Can we sign the annulment document now?” Su Chengxian asked irritably.

Lin Sui’an slid the blade back into the scabbard. “Fine.”

Su Chengxian and the Luo family members visibly relaxed. Meng Man carried over a tray bearing the four treasures of the study and set them before both Su Chengxian and Lin Sui’an. Su Chengxian reached impatiently for the brush, but Lin Sui’an was in no hurry — she read through the annulment document word by word first. It contained both parties’ names, ages, physical descriptions, and place of origin; the location, date, and official matchmaker’s seal for the original engagement; the record-keeping location for the marriage document; the reason for annulment (mutual agreement); the location and date for the annulment, with the official matchmaker’s seal (currently blank); and the original place of household registration (Xuanyuan County) to which the document was to be sent.

Now Lin Sui’an understood why Su Chengxian had been so desperate to force her to dissolve the engagement. The marriage system in this world was enormously complex and strict. Becoming engaged required an official matchmaker to write up an engagement document, which had to be submitted to the household registry office in both parties’ home counties as a binding pledge. Without an annulment document, the engagement would remain in effect indefinitely. Getting engaged again while the first engagement was still valid would be considered bigamy — not only would the new engagement be void, but there might very well be a criminal penalty involved as well.

The annulment document Lin Sui’an signed had to first be confirmed by a local official matchmaker, then sent back to their home county, where the local government office would verify it before Su Chengxian and Luo Kou could even begin to discuss marriage.

Working from the timeline in the original owner’s diary, a round trip from here to Xuanyuan County would take at least two months. Lin Sui’an was quite satisfied. That meant she still had plenty of time to ruin Su Chengxian and the Luo family’s plans.

Perhaps because Lin Sui’an was taking too long to read, Su Chengxian and the Luo family members were growing agitated. Meng Man lowered his voice. “Do you still remember what I said?”

Lin Sui’an looked up to find Meng Man’s gaze fixed on her with a dim, unreadable light — and was suddenly reminded of his expression last night, which had been much the same: a kind of suppressed, coiled intensity.

Lin Sui’an signed the document swiftly and pressed her fingerprint seal. Meng Man’s pupils contracted sharply; he carried the document back to Luo Shichuan for review. After Luo Shichuan looked it over and nodded, Meng Man’s knuckles on the wooden tray turned white.

The Luo family members were beaming.

“Wonderful — with our Luo family and the Su family joined in marriage, we will have a noble scholar-official bloodline. Once Young Master Su passes the examinations and gains a post, the Luo family’s future will be limitless.”

“Exactly. In time, our Luo family will be the next Hua Family of Yangdu!”

“Elder Luo, be careful — if that gets out, it may bring trouble!”

“What’s there to fear? The Su family is a scholar-official clan of a hundred years’ standing — a mere Hua family is beneath notice!”

“Young Master Su, do you feel confident about this sitting of the examinations? Our Luo family has some connections — if you need anything, just ask.”

Lin Sui’an watched these people’s behavior with great interest, picking up her tea bowl for a sip — and immediately puckered her face. The tea was bitter and astringent. Absolutely foul. She forced herself not to spit it out, holding it in her mouth and waiting for a moment when no one would notice so she could return it to the cup.

Su Chengxian’s head and neck were raised high, his smile growing more and more radiant amid the chorus of flattery. Gazing across the room at Luo Kou, he intoned aloud: “In the mist of Chunxi I first glimpsed thee; the cool moon like a brow, longing grows near.”

Lin Sui’an: What is this? Why has he suddenly started reciting poetry? And why does this poem sound so oddly familiar — is it from the Three Hundred Tang Poems?

“What a poem of devoted feeling!” the Luo family members called out approvingly.

“This poem is subtle — the words stop, but the meaning goes on; there is joy, yet a thread of tender sorrow.”

“Naturally gifted, restrained yet flavorful, evocative without being explicit.”

“Hidden and revealed at once — illusory and real — the imagery refined, the feeling deep.”

“Luo Niangzi, what is your answer?”

Lin Sui’an blinked. What is going on? A poetry comprehension exercise?

Luo Kou’s face flushed crimson, her eyes glistening, every thought and feeling filled with her Su Lang. She intoned in return: “Red blossoms have their season, but love has none; the river flows without end, as does my love’s devotion.”

The Luo family members clapped and cheered. “Excellently answered!”

“Pfffft—” Lin Sui’an spat a mouthful of water.

The hall went silent. Every eye turned to Lin Sui’an, faces full of contempt.

“This village girl has truly no sense of shame — the annulment papers are already signed, and she’s still sitting here?”

“She doesn’t even understand a declaration poem — what a boorish creature.”

“Listening to her former betrothed exchange declaration poems with another woman — truly asking for humiliation.”

Lin Sui’an wiped her mouth with her sleeve and stared at Su Chengxian in utter disbelief. Su Chengxian shot her a contemptuous glance and turned back to Luo Kou, continuing to recite: “Ten thousand li of red dust, the road stretches on and on; no one does not speak of—”

“No one does not speak of the tender flowing feeling!” Lin Sui’an almost shouted the second half of the line at the same moment as Su Chengxian.

This time, Su Chengxian was stunned, the Luo family members were dumbfounded, and Lin Sui’an was smiling.

Now she understood. What the diary had called a “declaration of feeling” wasn’t what she’d assumed from the literal meaning. In this world, there was apparently a real formal ritual called a “Declaration of Feeling” — her best guess was that it involved publicly reciting a declaration poem together with one’s beloved, something like a public confession of love in the modern sense.

The poem recorded in the diary wasn’t something the original owner had written to express her own feelings — it was the poem Su Chengxian had given to the original owner.

“Lin-jiejie, how do you know this—” Luo Kou went sheet-white, crumpling the handkerchief in her hands.

Su Chengxian stared at Lin Sui’an in shock, then — seeing Lin Sui’an produce the diary and give it a shake — his face changed completely. He scrambled to his feet and lunged for it. “You—”

“Your granddad!” Lin Sui’an slapped him across the face. The force sent Su Chengxian spinning in a full circle and sent him crashing to the floor, where he lay for a long moment without getting up.

Lin Sui’an walked to Luo Kou under the horrified stares of the assembly and crouched down. She opened the diary to the page recording the declaration poem; Luo Kou’s shaking fingers spread out the handkerchief she had been clutching, revealing a poem embroidered on it. It was the very same poem she and Su Chengxian had just recited — and matched the original owner’s diary entry word for word.

“He couldn’t even be bothered to write a different poem,” Lin Sui’an said quietly. “You still think he has genuine feelings for you?”