Chapter 3: Shadow of an Official’s Heir

Fuzi allowed the book boy to support him as he left the study hall. When he reached Lin Xihe, his brows immediately furrowed.

“Teacher, I’m sorry!” Lin Xihe hastily apologized, then quickly took two steps forward to stop the young boy disguised as a book attendant. “Little brother, do you have a phone watch? Lend it to your big sister to make a call.”

The book boy maintained an expressionless face—who would bother with a madwoman?

Lin Xihe scratched her head and had no choice but to lower her stance: “Lend… your auntie a phone to make an emergency call, please.”

The book boy simply treated her words as the ravings of a lunatic.

Lin Xihe watched helplessly as the duo in ancient NPC costumes disappeared at the end of the corridor.

This place was utterly bizarre! Suppressing her inner restlessness, she turned around and saw Wen Qi and Wen Ba carrying out a heavily-built young man.

Lin Xihe froze slightly, her gaze accidentally meeting another ambiguous stare—it was the kind steamed bun savior!

Her heart swelled with the warmth of encountering an acquaintance in a foreign land.

Yet the “familiar person’s” eyes held no warmth, only straightforward scrutiny, as if examining an alien creature.

Lin Xihe panicked: “He fainted? It wasn’t because I scared him.”

“Him?” Wen Zhixu lowered his eyelids, no longer avoiding her gaze, and scrutinized the girl from head to toe.

“Ah?” Lin Xihe met his gaze defiantly, “Are you the child’s parent?” He didn’t look like one!

Child? What nonsense? Wen Zhixu’s eyes gained a trace of inquiry.

Lin Pinyan had claimed she was the eldest young lady of the Lin Manor.

Rumors in the streets described her as foolish, yet this “young lady” before him was clearly different from the rumors. Though she and Lin Pinyan were half-siblings, they shared the Lin family bloodline. Even if the siblings didn’t get along, her reaction shouldn’t be like this.

Wen Qi approached quickly with Lin Manor’s servant: “Second Master, the carriage is ready.”

“Send Young Master Lin back to his residence first.” Wen Zhixu walked outward, the little white figure following closely behind like a shadow.

There’s a carriage? Lin Xihe pleaded urgently: “Bun benefactor, you have a carriage? Could you give me a ride?” Take her away from this damned place!

The Lin Manor servant looked over at the sound and actually saw the already deceased eldest young lady behind Second Master Wen!

The servant’s hair stood on end. He closed his eyes and slammed his head against a nearby stone pillar.

Lin Xihe opened her mouth wordlessly: I’m not a ghost.

When one or two people called her a ghost, she dismissed it as background noise. But when everyone called her a ghost… she panicked.

“Hey.” She instinctively grabbed the sleeve of the only familiar person present—her bun benefactor.

Wen Zhixu was exceptionally tall. His brows suddenly darkened as his gaze fell on the presumptuous hand.

Fingers like spring onion shoots shone dazzlingly white under the daylight. Instead of releasing him, the hand’s owner even swung his sleeve gently.

Their shadows tangled briefly on the ground.

Lin Xihe whispered softly: “Look, I have a shadow.”

Wen Zhixu remained silent.

He still retained some impression of Lin Xihe from childhood: a pale, chubby dumpling, resembling a festive yet silent New Year’s painting doll. Madam Lin had once said the child preferred quietness.

After the two families formally arranged the marriage, Wen Zhixu never saw Lin Xihe again. The crabapple trees in Lin Manor bloomed several times, while rumors about her being a simpleton grew increasingly rampant. She remained hidden deep in the women’s quarters, never receiving outsiders throughout the year.

Back then, the young Wen Zhixu didn’t care much—marriage arrangements were merely family matters anyway.

After both mothers successively left their respective households, his grandfather grew increasingly dissatisfied with this engagement and secretly planned to break off the marriage.

Wen Zhixu was filial. Since his grandfather disapproved, he naturally should comply. There was no need to marry the Lin family’s foolish daughter.

Observing the young woman before him, her words were incoherent and her actions utterly chaotic.

Wen Zhixu suddenly realized—Lin Xihe was not merely foolish.

She was genuinely insane.

“Young Mistress!” Qingwu stumbled past the fainted servant and threw herself before Lin Xihe. Disregarding propriety, she gripped Lin Xihe’s shoulders, her anxious gaze scanning her mistress’s face.

“Are you injured?” Qingwu was frantic with worry.

Lin Xihe was nearly going mad herself.

Wasn’t this the sister who’d just been hanging? After that hard fall earlier, she’d come looking for her again—what was going on? Did these NPCs have scripts?

“Yes, injured,” Lin Xihe could only play along with Qingwu’s concern. “If you shake me any more, I’ll get a concussion.”

“Young Mistress!” Qingwu froze her movements.

“…” Lin Xihe studied the ancient-style costumes of the people around her and fell silent for a long moment before asking, “Are you filming a reality show? Give me one day, return me a thousand years?”

A scorching gaze burned against Lin Xihe’s face. She turned her eyes and met Wen Zhixu’s stare directly.

A thunderclap exploded overhead. Their gazes sliced through the white flash of lightning, clashing silently.

“What are you staring at?” Lin Xihe snapped irritably. This strange place full of ancient-dressed weirdos—venting her frustration wasn’t illegal, was it? “Keep looking and I’ll gouge your eyes out.”

“You.” Wen Zhixu was speechless. The Lin family had remarkable methods! Not only did they produce a simpleton, but they’d raised her into a madwoman. Simple-mindedness could be forgiven, but such deranged behavior and ghostly pretenses were truly despicable!

“Your malady lies in the head, profound and incurable!” Wen Zhixu flicked his sleeves and turned to leave.

Classical Chinese was Lin Xihe’s weak point. It took her a moment to process his words before she realized their meaning. Lifting her skirts, she chased after him to the private school’s entrance: “You insulted me?! You… you turtle’s spawn!”

Thump!

The long hem tripped her, sending her stumbling. Damn, what awful luck! She’d never worn such cumbersome skirts in her previous life!

Hearing the noise, Wen Zhixu turned to see a white figure sway and collapse flat on the ground in a perfect sprawl. So perfectly rounded that even the pancake vendor from West Market would sigh in admiration.

“Young Mistress!” Qingwu flew to protect her mistress, earning an approving glance from Wen Zhixu. The young mistress might be dull-witted, but this maid was clever—master and servant complemented each other well.

Lin Xihe rose grimacing, rubbing her knees. Wen Zhixu watched her coldly and sneered, “My surname is Wang?! Truly both foolish and stupid.”

Wen Qi and Wen Ba exchanged quick glances: Was Miss Lin calling the young master a turtle…?

Lin Xihe nearly choked—crushed by Qingwu’s weight. She managed to gasp out “sister” twice before her vision spun wildly. Before she could scream, she found herself draped over Qingwu’s sturdy back.

During the earlier hanging episode, Lin Xihe had noticed Qingwu’s full figure, reminiscent of Tang dynasty beauties. She pinched Qingwu’s shoulder appreciatively: “Sister, which gym did you train at? Your back muscles are amazing!”

Qingwu choked back sobs: “Young Mistress, please stop talking nonsense! You must have hit your head. I’ll fetch a physician at once!”

“…” Lin Xihe fell silent.

This damned place wasn’t right!

Qingwu moved with swift steps, quickly overtaking Wen Zhixu’s group.

The sudden rain had ceased. Evening sunlight tore through thick clouds, staining the flowing sunset orange. Shopkeepers rearranged their stalls, their cries, hawking, and bargaining… the vibrant breath of mortal life overflowing the long street.

Having failed to find the Emerald Phoenix, Wen Qi asked regretfully, “Second Young Master, shall I search the mountains tomorrow?”

Wen Zhixu didn’t respond, his gaze still fixed ahead.

Lin Xihe, who was slumped over the maid, suddenly turned her head. Her fair face was half-swollen and bruised from the fall, yet her gaze was piercingly bright, blazing like a mountain fire—bearing no resemblance to the dignified demeanor expected of a young lady from a noble household.

This person was beyond description and impossible to fathom.

Wen Qi muttered to himself: The Second Young Master is staring so intently at Miss Lin without any restraint—is this… love at first sight?

The newly arrived Wen Ba, eager to prove himself in front of his master, rushed forward and crouched before Wen Zhixu: “Second Young Master, shall I carry you on my back?”

Wen Zhixu nearly choked on his breath.

.

“Is this the infirmary?” Lin Xihe stared at the sandalwood plaque inscribed with “Tinghe Pavilion,” and that bewildering feeling once again washed over her.

Qingwu, assuming her mistress was still disoriented after returning from the brink of death, gently reassured her: “The physician will arrive shortly.”

Before long, a physician in traditional cross-collared robes arrived carrying a medicine chest. He deftly retrieved a small pulse-resting pillow from it.

“Allow me to take your pulse, Miss Lin.”

The physician had arrived—wearing no white coat, carrying no stethoscope, employing only the most traditional methods of observation, listening, questioning, and pulse-taking. There was no equipment in sight, no hidden cameras; these people were clearly not extras.

Lin Xihe was struck with horror!

She had time-traveled.

Traveled to…

Following the physician’s prescription, Qingwu carefully ground the medicinal herbs into a paste and gently applied it to her mistress’s wounds.

“The Ning Dynasty?!” Lin Xihe abruptly stood up, forgetting she was seated in a rocking chair. She swayed unsteadily, her vision darkening—as Qingwu’s hand trembled, the medicinal paste smeared directly into Lin Xihe’s eyes.

The maid panicked completely, but Lin Xihe casually wiped her face a few times.

She knew nothing about history. Before her transmigration, her work had been varied—one of her roles was exhibition planning, and she had just finished curating “The Unorthodox Ning Dynasty”!

This damned fate was utterly screwing her over.

The Ning Dynasty was an era of wise rulers and virtuous ministers, with a clean and honest court. The people lived in peace and prosperity, and the world was abundant.

“You said my father is who?”

“The Master is the current Vice Censor-in-Chief.”

Lin Xihe covered her mouth, snickering: “My dad’s that awesome?!”

“…”

In her previous life, she had been surrounded by three bloodsucking leeches: a gambling-addict father, a remarried mother, and a debt-collecting younger brother.

Now, after transmigrating, her status had been completely overturned!

Lin Xihe, the daughter of an official, beamed with excitement—her life had just been elevated to a whole new level!

As Qingwu answered, she wiped away tears. Her mistress had once been silent and withdrawn, but now, though her words and actions were entirely different, she was so vibrant and radiant. How wonderful!

The door swung open without warning.

Housekeeper Wang supported Min Shi as she entered, their gazes falling upon the rocking chair.

Qingwu subtly shifted to block the rocking chair, adopting a fully protective stance.

Min Shi had fainted for over an hour. Having just finished drinking a calming tonic, she then heard that her precious darling—Lin Pinyan—had been frightened into a faint by Lin Xihe.

She was determined to settle the score with Lin Xihe!

“You wretched girl—”

The rocking chair abruptly stilled.

From behind Qingwu, a ghostly black face slowly emerged, calmly meeting Min Shi’s horrified stare.

She grinned, revealing a row of ghastly white teeth: “…Mom?”

Lin Xihe, not one to waste resources, had used the herbal ointment prescribed by the physician to give herself a full-face mask.

With her blackened face and bared teeth, she resembled Hei Wuchang, the underworld envoy who comes to claim souls.

“Ah…!” Min Shi was terrified out of her wits. Instantly, the world spun around her, and her legs gave way beneath her.

Fearing her mistress might say something inappropriate, Qingwu hurriedly interjected: “Miss, this is the Second Madame.”

Seeing Min Shi’s aggressive demeanor, Lin Xihe retorted irritably: “Tch, a stepmother.”

Min Shi stormed off in a rage.

.

The master and servant had endless topics to converse about.

Qingwu, who had suppressed her chattering nature for over a decade, completely unleashed it before the present Lin Xihe.

With nearly a hundred people in the Lin residence, Lin Xihe wished she could create a relationship chart using PowerPoint.

Lin Xihe: “Ah, what about my mother?”

Qingwu chattered on and on.

“What? My mother?!” Lin Xihe, who had grown up without maternal love, sprang up excitedly, causing the half-eaten plum blossom ball to roll onto the floor. “How could this be!”

Qingwu hurriedly poured a cup of deer pear juice for the young lady: “Miss, please moisten your throat.”

Qingwu continued blabbering nonstop.

“Pfft—” The freshly sipped juice sprayed entirely onto the small tea table, ruining Lin Xihe’s appetite. “Wait? I even have an arranged marriage?!”