Rebirth on the Day She Was Poisoned by an Aphrodisiac - Chapter 10

Chapter 10: The Golden Pig

Pei Chen rushed to the palace. Liyang was kneeling before the great hall, the scorching sun turning her face a feverish red. Minglan stood to the side, seemingly in the middle of a lecture.

As Pei Chen approached, she caught the biting sarcasm in Minglan’s voice: “Big Sister, why be so stubborn? Even Pei Ming is better than Pei Chen.”

“Is that so? Then the Second Princess is even more impressive—marrying and becoming a stepmother all at once,” Pei Chen interjected, slowing her pace to steady her breathing and stepping forward with measured calm.

Minglan looked up, startled to see Pei Chen. Just as she was about to snap back, Liyang, who had been silent for a long time, finally spoke: “In the sixth house of Ming’an Lane, the eldest illegitimate son of the heir of the Marquis of Jinyang can already call someone ‘Mother’.”

“I don’t believe it. You two are lying to me.” Minglan’s body went rigid. She looked at Pei Chen, then at Liyang. “Is Big Sister so desperate to win an argument that she’s started babbling nonsense?”

Pei Chen walked up to them, stood beside Liyang, and knelt down. She smoothed her robes and smiled. “If the Second Princess doesn’t believe it, feel free to go take a quiet look. See if that child looks like the Marquis’s heir. If he doesn’t, you can come back and find us then.”

Minglan’s gaze wavered. After a moment of internal struggle, she looked at Liyang, seeking a final confirmation.

“You’ll know once you go. Why waste breath arguing with us?” Liyang closed her eyes; her knees were throbbing with pain.

Liyang’s body swayed precariously, her lips turning white—she was clearly at her limit. Panicking, Pei Chen scrambled up, intent on entering the hall to beg the Empress for mercy.

The Empress refused to see her.

Fuming but shaken, Minglan eventually hurried away. Pei Chen stood outside the hall, pleading with the Head Eunuch over and over to announce her. The Eunuch, not daring to offend her, went back and forth five or six times before the Empress finally granted Pei Chen entry.

Suppressing her joy, Pei Chen turned to help Liyang up. Liyang frowned. “Can you actually convince Her Majesty?”

“Why convince her? She’s stubborn to the bone,” Pei Chen whispered. The Empress was a lonely soul, far less magnanimous than the late Emperor; it was only natural she had a chip on her shoulder.

She supported Liyang to the door, and they entered together. The Empress stared at them from behind her desk. Seeing their intimate posture—Pei Chen holding Liyang firmly, and Liyang not rejecting the touch the Empress felt a complex mix of emotions.

The two knelt together. Liyang winced as the pain in her knees flared up again. Pei Chen glanced at her, unable to bear it, and spoke quickly: “Your Majesty, I wish to ask for Princess Liyang’s hand in marriage. I hope for your blessing.”

“Pei Chen, you know your own ‘identity’ best,” the Empress said coldly, her voice thick with majesty.

Pei Chen looked up, meeting the Empress’s searching gaze with a smile. “I understand. I also understand what is in Your Majesty’s heart. I will cherish the Princess as a precious treasure. Even if we cannot be a pair of lovebirds, I hope we can be like the late Emperor and the Empress Dowager—together through every dawn and dusk.”

At the mention of the late Emperor and the Dowager, the Empress’s expression softened. “To marry her is fine. But marriage requires the command of parents and the words of a matchmaker. Have your mother enter the palace to speak with me. If she consents, I will have nothing more to say.”

This sudden demand left both Pei Chen and Liyang baffled. However, since the Sovereign had spoken, they could only obey.

Outside the hall, Liyang pushed Pei Chen away and stood steadily on her own. “You need to go to Shou’an Palace. Lady Gu will not easily leave the manor.”

“A parent’s love for their child means planning for their long-term future. I believe my mother won’t refuse me,” Pei Chen said, forcing a smile. Since waking up in this life, she hadn’t even seen Lady Gu; her confidence was based entirely on hope.

Liyang sighed. “Go try. Lady Gu and the Empress… they once shared feelings for one another.”

“If they shared feelings, why would my mother refuse to see her, and why would the Empress dislike me?” Pei Chen was confused. Shouldn’t love extend to the child?

The Mother and the Prayer Beads

Pei Chen returned to the Gu residence. It was now the 6th. She had to ensure Lady Gu entered the palace tomorrow. Standing before the Buddhist hall, the maid shook her head—the Madam did not wish to see her.

I’ll just have to break in, Pei Chen decided. She pushed past the maid and opened the door. The thick scent of sandalwood hit her immediately.

Inside the dim room, Lady Gu knelt on a prayer mat. Without opening her eyes, she spoke: “You are being far too insolent.”

“Your daughter wishes to marry. I hope for Mother’s blessing.” Pei Chen knelt and kowtowed. In her past life, she had no mother; Liyang had provided that maternal love. In this life, she didn’t expect favoritism, but she needed her mother not to hold her back.

Lady Gu opened her eyes. Seeing Pei Chen’s bright, watery eyes, she seemed dazed for a moment. “You’ve grown so large.”

“Yes, I am seventeen. I want to marry Princess Liyang. The Empress said you must propose the marriage in person. I know it is difficult for you, but I truly love her. Please help me.”

Lady Gu’s gaze was profound. After a long silence, she said, “You are very beautiful. You look like your aunt.”

Pei Chen was shocked to see her mother’s face—it was grey and haggard, and her hair was entirely white. Though roughly the same age as the Empress, who looked like she was in her twenties, Lady Gu looked like a woman at the end of her life.

“A-Chen,” Lady Gu said, reaching out to stroke her daughter’s cheek. “If you choose someone, cherish them. If you stop loving them, remember to let go. Do not torture her, and do not torture yourself.”

Pei Chen didn’t understand. Why would anyone torture someone they loved?

Lady Gu handed her a string of prayer beads—smooth from years of use and still warm from her touch. “I will enter the palace tomorrow. Do not worry. I do not expect you to be a great success, only to be safe.”

The Dowager’s Dowry

On the afternoon of the 7th, the Empress issued two decrees: Princess Liyang was to marry Pei Chen, and the Second Princess’s engagement to the Marquis of Jinyang was annulled.

The tables had turned. Pei Chen, feeling mischievous, sent “congratulatory” gifts to the Second Princess for “getting rid of a scoundrel.”

At the Second Princess’s manor, Minglan lay weakly behind a screen. Pei Chen waited outside, unable to hold back a smile. Liyang, sipping tea, warned her: “Don’t be too smug.”

“Being smug for a moment is harmless. Your Highness should smile if you want to,” Pei Chen whispered. “I’ll come find you tomorrow.”

Clack. Liyang’s tea lid hit her jade bracelet. The room went silent. Her smile froze as she realized she had lost her composure. She quickly dismissed her younger sisters to check on Minglan.

Watching Pei Chen’s profile, Liyang noticed she looked a bit “wicked.” The old Pei Chen had been like a block of wood; this one was bright as spring but mischievous to the core.

The next day was the 8th. After sleeping in, Pei Chen was summoned by the Empress Dowager to discuss the betrothal gifts.

In Shou’an Palace, the Dowager gestured to a pile of ledgers. “Everything on the table is yours. The late Emperor and I left these for your mother and aunt, but they never used them. Now they’re yours.”

Pei Chen scanned the lists: rare treasures, ancient books, land deeds, manors, and shops. Her net worth had just increased a hundredfold. Suddenly, she saw an entry for a “Massive Golden Pig.”

“Grand-Aunt, why is there such a huge golden pig?”

“Oh, the late Emperor gave it to me for my birthday. If you don’t like it, leave it,” the Dowager squinted. The late Emperor was a practical man; he never gave useless trinkets. “Actually, you should forge a pair of golden pigs. One for you, one for Liyang.”

“Why? Aren’t mandarin ducks better?”

“Ducks are no good. Golden pigs are practical, easy to keep, and have a good meaning.”

Pei Chen: “…” Liyang isn’t a pig!

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