Chapter 46: Imitating You Part 1

The great snow of winter had just passed, and though the Imperial Capital was a place of prosperity, ingredients like venison were not easy to obtain unless purchased from the kitchen markets. But why buy deer meat out of the blue?

Perhaps sensing Wei Lingci’s confusion, Xun Changqing explained, “Shao Lanheng sent it over. He was willing to give it, so I accepted.”

Wei Lingci grew even more puzzled about what medicine Xun Changqing was selling in her gourd. Shao Lanheng was from the Shao Family—why would he befriend Xun Changqing? She reminded her, “Shao Lanheng is different from Shao Tang. He’s insidious and knows how to endure. He’s no good sort. Don’t be fooled by his facade.”

“No way. I just reminded him that things are precious because they are scarce. What he does with that is his business, not mine.” Xun Changqing sat beside her, her body tilting slightly.

Wei Lingci turned to look at her, her brows and lashes twitching faintly. “Did you tell him to kill Shao Tang?”

Xun Changqing shook her head, tilted her own head, and gazed deeply at her, ripples forming in her eyes. “Perhaps whether Shao Tang lives or dies isn’t part of your plan, but I think if the Shao Family turns to infighting, it would be better for both you and me.”

“Changqing, have you considered that if Shao Lanheng rises, he’ll only become Shao Cheng’s boost? Shao Tang is no threat, but he’s the legitimate eldest son. Shao Cheng himself is a legitimate eldest and looks down on bastards like Shao Lanheng…”

“But Master, have you thought about it? If Shao Lanheng really listens and sends someone in the Heavenly Prison to take out Shao Tang, we’ll know his weakness. If he does something against us, we can tip off Shao Cheng, and we’ll suffer no losses.”

Xun Changqing spoke urgently, interrupting Wei Lingci, who smiled faintly and reached out to stroke her flushed cheek, her voice filled with utmost gentleness. “You’ve grown up. You think much more than before. Your father has written to me often these years, asking me to take good care of you. Little does he know you’ve long been able to stand on your own.”

“I’m not a child anymore. Why do you all always treat me like some naive girl from the inner chambers?” Xun Changqing pouted, her expression somewhat tense. She didn’t dodge that hand but awkwardly grasped it instead. “Actually, I hated you before, but now, for some reason, that hatred has inexplicably vanished.”

“Hating me? That’s simple. If you hate someone, you just want to never see them again. But you’ve been eagerly crowding around me.” Her own fingers were held in Xun Changqing’s soft palm. Even if her soul was no longer that of a child, this body was still not yet of marriageable age—every part of her exuded youthfulness. In a daze, Wei Lingci could even smell a faint milky scent. She tapped Xun Changqing’s nose tip and said seriously, “I can explain.”

Xun Changqing knew she had also been reborn and had never mentioned anything about her past life. She had been waiting, but even now, nothing had been said. She wouldn’t ask, but she couldn’t keep silent herself.

“I don’t want to ask. Xu Ke is your master; you have to listen to him. What’s there to ask?” Xun Changqing shifted her body slightly, as if avoiding the topic. She knew those pains from her past life were enough to endure once; she didn’t have the courage to ask again.

She kicked off her shoes and socks and leaned back, staring at the bed canopy. She tugged at Wei Lingci’s clothes and added, “Then why aren’t you listening to Xu Ke now?”

After straightening her shoes for her, Wei Lingci met her pleading gaze and smiled. “I don’t want to anymore.”

“You’re brushing me off. Wei Lingci, you’re brushing me off again.” Xun Changqing sat up, her face aggrieved, as if she meant it this time. She wouldn’t let her dodge. She scooted closer, climbing to sit beside her, pestering relentlessly. “Then who are you listening to now? I know you definitely won’t listen to Madam Wei. Who?”

“I’m listening to myself, of course. Am I supposed to listen to you? You can’t even decide your own affairs—how could I listen to you?” She leaned back a little, not wanting to get too close to Xun Changqing. Her body was full of medicinal scent; it wouldn’t be good if she got too near and let her catch that odd smell.

Xun Changqing inched closer again. Wei Lingci wasn’t using her status as master to suppress her, which meant she didn’t see her merely as a disciple!

Gazing at her profile—clear and cold like proud plum blossoms in the snow, yet with a touch more everyday warmth beneath those icy eyes, like a natural hot spring—Xun Changqing realized she hadn’t seen Wei Lingci’s true heart before. But now she did. Dodging wouldn’t do. She tugged at her sleeve. That half-belief from long ago had now turned to full faith.

“Why can’t you listen to me? Aren’t you afraid I’ll get angry if you hide so much from me?”

She spoke word by word, staring deeply at Wei Lingci, who turned her gaze and met her eyes with a smile. “Then, are you angry?”

This was certainty that she wouldn’t be. Xun Changqing fumed but couldn’t argue back. Fine, she was only thirteen, not yet of age—a half-grown child in everyone’s eyes. How could Wei Lingci listen to a child? She retreated half a step and said solemnly, “Then when I come of age, will you listen to me?”

In Wei Lingci’s heart, those words were no less than: When I come of age, will you marry me?

Perhaps Xun Changqing, with her two lifetimes, hadn’t thought of such things—no one had told her—and so she didn’t dwell deeper. But she couldn’t skip over them. Wei Lingci gazed at the lifelike peacock screen before the bed, a trace of worry in her eyes. Unthinkingly, she murmured, “Changqing, do you know… these things… they’re not to be seen by others.”

This was probably the only thing Wei Lingci couldn’t see through—or perhaps she dared not. All she thought about was how to protect Xun Changqing’s life in this seemingly peaceful Great Qi Dynasty, more terrifying than any chaotic era.

Xun Changqing understood what “these” meant. Having lived two lives, she’d thought most about them. In her last life, she’d suffered alone, fixated on feelings that violated master-disciple ethics, caring only for Wei Lingci’s thoughts. Now, she didn’t need to think that way. What kept them from crossing that line was the world’s gaze.