The Eldest Princess is Always Feigning Poverty and Weakness - Chapter 7

The result of summoning her courage to enter the cellar only served to reinforce a single truth: she should never have trusted Chen Changqing’s words—not a single one of them.

There were vegetables, technically, but they could no longer be classified as such; they were barely valuable as organic fertilizer.

The cabbage in the cellar had rotted away, the yams were spoiled, and the sweet potatoes were soaking in damp soil. After a quick scan, she realized that, at most, she might be able to shave down one edible piece from the lot.

Wen Ningzhou was utterly exasperated with that blockhead, Chen Changqing. The villagers had kindly sent him food, and he had simply tossed it into the cellar and forgotten all about it.

He hadn’t even sealed the cellar properly, covering it haphazardly. It must have rained or snowed recently, allowing water to seep in and drown the vegetables until they rotted.

With the household supplies exhausted, worrying at home was useless. She couldn’t just sit around and wait for death. Wen Ningzhou had to pull herself together and head out to get a sense of her current situation.

In her search for a way to earn money, she planned to visit the market—at the very least, she needed to know what her options were.

While she was at it, she intended to find a pawnshop to hock her only piece of jewelry, the hairpin, in exchange for some silver to buy basic survival necessities.

Deprived of her phone and watch, Wen Ningzhou found herself in this strange, unfamiliar world without even knowing what time of day it was.

Though she intended to head to the market, she didn’t set off immediately. In the back yard, there was a sheep shed filled with the original owner’s miscellaneous junk.

Chen Changqing never did farm work or any cleaning, so Wen Ningzhou wanted to find a basket to carry into town. After searching the house twice to no avail, she headed to the junk shed.

The shed was packed with a chaotic mess of items. Wen Ningzhou began to sort through it bit by bit; she wanted to clear the space out so she could eventually raise some small animals or at least keep it organized as a storage area.

The cluttered mess was an eyesore to her.

Her efforts in the shed yielded quite a haul: she found a large crate, several woven bamboo baskets, some farming tools, and even a single-wheeled wooden barrow.

After organizing the finds, Wen Ningzhou took a wood-chopping knife and a bamboo basket to the front yard. She looked up at the sky and estimated the time based on the position of the shadows.

The book hadn’t described the market in detail, so for Wen Ningzhou, heading out into this alien world felt like setting off on an epic adventure.

She found two scraps of useless navy-blue coarse cotton, folded them neatly, and lined the bottom of the basket to patch up the holes.

In reality, she shouldn’t have been carrying the basket at all; she had nothing to sell and even less money to buy anything. However, carrying a basket on her arm as a substitute for a handbag felt like a necessary ritual for a shopping trip.

She tucked the wood-chopping knife inside and covered it with a piece of cloth. No one would ever guess that such a delicate, soft-looking woman was heading out to the shops with a cleaver hidden in her basket.

Wen Ningzhou was always cautious. She hoped she wouldn’t need a weapon for self-defense, but if a sudden emergency arose, having it meant she wouldn’t have to panic. She brought it along just in case.

Returning to the bedroom, she stood before the bronze mirror, trying to figure out how to pin her hair into a matronly bun.

Wen Ningzhou had never seen how the local women styled their hair, but she figured that in an ancient setting, it was probably all much the same. After a great deal of maneuvering, her arms were aching by the time she finished.

Looking at the reflection in the mirror, she was quite satisfied. With her hair pinned up, it would be much easier to work.

She cut a piece of dusty grey cloth to use as a kerchief, tying it over her head to secure the bun. Even if it didn’t look like everyone else’s, it didn’t matter.

Furthermore, heading out in the guise of a simple farm woman made her less conspicuous and helped her avoid unnecessary trouble.

Before leaving, Wen Ningzhou scooped up a handful of loose soil from the yard, rubbed it fine in her hands, and smeared it over her face, making herself look dusty and travel-worn.

When one cannot protect oneself, being beautiful is not necessarily an advantage.

Wen Ningzhou had experienced this before. When she was in junior high, she had been cornered by a few low-life thugs who whistled at her and said disgusting things. At the time, she was terrified but forced herself not to cry. Instead, she grabbed the hand reaching for her face and bit down with all her might.

The thugs hadn’t expected her to fight back instead of being paralyzed with fear. While they were still howling in rage, Wen Ningzhou had shoved her way through them before they could react and ran for her life.

Disguised as a plain, married woman, Wen Ningzhou closed the courtyard gate and hung the lock.

Feeling the chopping knife in her basket, she felt a twinge of nerves. She pursed her lips into a small smile and stepped onto the muddy dirt path of the mountain village.

Heading out with a blade—she wasn’t afraid.

Of course, she had no idea where she was going. Wen Ningzhou hummed to herself, “Everything is heaven’s will, everything is fate.”

She remained calm and composed, showing no signs of panic.

To transmigrate into a book an impossibly slim chance, yet it had happened to her. In a way, she was a chosen one.

Surely she hadn’t been sent here just to starve to death; that would make her the most pathetic transmigrator in history.

As a “zen” transmigrator and a true salted fish, Wen Ningzhou just picked a path and started walking.

Though she acted nonchalant, she actually chose the flat, wide paths, knowing they were the most travelled. As long as she headed generally down the mountain, she would eventually find her way.

The further she walked, the more she realized just how remote her home truly was. She had walked for a long time, and just as she was beginning to suspect that God had sent her here to die of hunger, she finally saw another house.

The path beneath her feet gradually transformed from a narrow goat track into a three-foot-wide road. Tiled houses were clustered on the northern side, facing south; four or five would sit together, followed by another cluster a short distance away.

The houses on the mountainside were built according to the terrain, so the households weren’t as tightly packed as in a traditional village.

However, the neighbours weren’t strangers. Even though Wen Ningzhou was a new bride, the residents in the yards would smile and greet her. “Scholar Chen’s wife? You don’t look like a country girl at all; you’re truly striking. Heading out to get supplies?”

Wen Ningzhou nodded demurely, offering a gentle smile. “Yes,” she replied softly.

She continued along the path until she encountered a group of people coming her way.

At the front was a woman walking briskly as a guide, followed by several maidservants and attendants. The most prominent figure was the lady in the centre, who possessed an air of noble elegance.

As they were bound to meet face-to-face, Wen Ningzhou watched the group approach and felt that things might be about to go sideways.

The noble lady was clearly looking at her, her features etched with an unmistakable worry. What truly confirmed for Wen Ningzhou that she was in trouble was the sudden, heartfelt warmth she felt toward the lady a warmth that came from deep within.

This must be the original girl’s subconscious lingering in this body, she thought.

There was no need for further doubt; Wen Ningzhou was certain of the lady’s identity. It had to be the original girl’s mother. Their features were indeed similar, especially their eyes.

Seeing Wen Ningzhou, the lady in the fine silks quickened her pace, eventually disregarding her dignity as the Prime Minister’s wife to lift her skirts and run toward her.

When they were only a foot apart, they both came to a halt, standing face-to-face across that small distance.

Wen Ningzhou felt a sharp ache in her heart. Countless feelings of regret and grievance welled up within her. Finally, she had the chance to utter the word she had wanted to say both in her past life and her present one.

“Mother,” Wen Ningzhou said, her voice catching as she choked back tears.

The Prime Minister’s wife burst into tears. She looked into Wen Ningzhou’s eyes with a deep, intense love that seemed to be suppressing a torrent of emotion. Her voice trembled as she responded.

That word, “Mother,” had been silent for far too long.

Taking in her daughter’s appearance and the wariness she couldn’t quite hide in her eyes, the lady felt as though a knife were being twisted in her heart. Her daughter must have suffered greatly in the past to have become so independent and guarded.

Learning that Wen Ningzhou was headed to the market, the Prime Minister’s wife accompanied her.

Wen Ningzhou was a bit afraid. Since arriving in this world, her only real contact had been with Chen Changqing. The Prime Minister’s wife was surely more discerning and knew her daughter better than the scumbag did.

If she were to ask about details not mentioned in the book—like childhood anecdotes—Wen Ningzhou would be in deep trouble. To occupy someone’s daughter’s body and be found out would be the end of her.

Fortunately, the lady asked nothing. She was even more cautious than Wen Ningzhou, deliberately maintaining a certain distance.

It was clear she desperately wanted to hug Wen Ningzhou, but she was exercising restraint.

She didn’t even suggest going to the house for a look, nor did she mention Chen Changqing once.

Throughout the journey to the market, she asked no questions. She and Wen Ningzhou walked side-by-side yet separately, but her eyes never left her daughter for a second.

At the market, Wen Ningzhou didn’t even have to ask for anything. If she so much as looked at something twice or showed a hint of interest, a maidservant would immediately step forward to pay for it.

Wen Ningzhou bought some necessities, along with five chicks, two mature hens that looked ready to lay eggs, a rooster, and a goose.

Once she had finished her shopping, the lady said, “I came out without your father’s knowledge; I cannot stay long.”

“As long as you return, your father won’t be angry,” she said, weighing her words carefully. “Both your mother and father miss you very much.”

She didn’t explicitly ask if Wen Ningzhou wanted to come home, but the hint was unmistakable: she only had to go back.

The lady wouldn’t force Wen Ningzhou’s choice, nor would she lead her with direct questions. Since she had given the hint and Wen Ningzhou hadn’t agreed to return, she let the matter drop.

Before they parted, the lady gave Wen Ningzhou a heavy pouch of silver and some beautiful, valuable jewelry, placing them in her basket.

She ordered her attendants to escort Wen Ningzhou back to where they had met but no further.

She herself would not walk her daughter home; she simply waited at the foot of the hill.

The longing in her eyes was palpable. Before leaving, Wen Ningzhou’s heart softened, and she called out once more, “Mother.”

“I am leaving now.”

“Call me Mother once more,” the lady said, suddenly grabbing Wen Ningzhou’s hand before quickly letting go. “Please?” she asked tentatively.

“Mother,” Wen Ningzhou said, a bitter, aching sensation making it hard to speak. “I was wrong.”

She wanted to apologize on behalf of the original girl. She didn’t know where the original soul had gone—whether she had departed or was merely sleeping within this body.

Tears streaming down her face, the Prime Minister’s wife turned and entered the inn without looking back.

She was afraid that if she looked at “Zhouzhou” again, she wouldn’t be able to hold herself back, and all her restraint would crumble.

Watching the figure of the original girl’s mother, Wen Ningzhou touched her face and realized that she, too, was crying.

She sighed inwardly. The original girl must have felt some regret and heartache; otherwise, she wouldn’t be crying like this. It had to be the original girl’s emotions affecting her.

Wen Ningzhou didn’t dare return to the Prime Minister’s manor. Out here, no one knew her, so the risk of exposure was significantly lower. There were too many variables back at the estate.

She would rather live a harder life than be caught and burned as an anomaly.

In one trip, she had gone from rags to riches. She had a significant amount of income now, but she didn’t think of running away immediately.

She would wait a little longer.

She would leave before Chen Changqing returned.

For now, she would stay here quietly—at least so that the original girl’s mother would have a place where she could still find her daughter.

Wen Ningzhou returned home with her food supplies and poultry. Seeing that the sun wouldn’t set for a while, she set to work.

She prepared a nest for the chicks and built a wooden fence for the hens and the goose, giving them an enclosed space to forage.

She named the mature hens “Small Cylinder” and “Small Strip,” the rooster “Plank,” and the goose “Red Middle.” The five chicks were named “Small Six” through “Small Ten,” making it feel as if she had ten chicks in total.

She even named the lone living persimmon tree in front of the door “Montesquieu.”

Though she was all alone, she made her life interesting. Every living thing had a name, making the place feel lively.

Life was quiet, simple, and pleasant. Wen Ningzhou kept the yard in perfect order. Someone who loves life can make a rich and cozy home even when living alone.

Two weeks later, Small Strip laid her first egg. The egg from her home-raised hen was tiny, barely larger than a quail’s egg.

Wen Ningzhou didn’t eat it. She placed it in the kitchen cupboard, intending to wait until she had saved up more.

This dynasty wasn’t overly restrictive toward women; the social atmosphere was relatively free.

Women could engage in business, sell goods on the street, and girls could attend school—though they were forbidden from taking the imperial exams or holding government office.

Over the past two weeks, Wen Ningzhou had been pondering her survival skills. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that she was a rather pathetic transmigrator.

She had no “Golden Finger,” no extraordinary skills, and certainly no noble benefactor falling from the sky.

She couldn’t even manage to earn a little extra cash.

Then again, even if a benefactor did appear, Wen Ningzhou’s timid nature would probably lead her to run the other way. She had no intention of marrying or having children here; falling in love with an NPC felt far too “digital” for her.

A “salted fish” has her own way of living. She didn’t seek great wealth; she was content with modest comfort. She practiced embroidery, tried her hand at making flatbreads, and used the ink and brushes Chen Changqing had left behind to practice her calligraphy and painting—all with the intention of seeing if she could sell them later.

She had seen people selling calligraphy and flatbreads on the street. These required little capital; she would only need a shoulder pole to carry her wares.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about using her modern knowledge and aesthetic to make things like brow powder, rouge, or soap. However, based on her observations at the market, these things already existed, and shops wouldn’t just accept products from an unknown supplier.

One shouldn’t underestimate the wisdom of the ancients. Without a “Golden Finger” or “Main Character Aura,” it was impossible to create soap from scratch in ancient times and cause a sensation that would make her rich overnight.

That was the treatment reserved for standard transmigrators in books. She was just an unlucky soul who had stumbled in by accident.

One day, she headed up the mountain to gather firewood, bringing along a back-basket and a hoe to dig for wild vegetables.

The Prime Minister’s wife had given her a significant amount of money, but it was a finite resource. It would only dwindle over time.

Until she had a steady income, Wen Ningzhou intended to remain frugal, saving wherever she could.

As she walked deeper into the mountains, she left markers along the way for fear of getting lost.

Although it was winter, the mountain scenery wasn’t entirely desolate. She walked and dug as she went, eventually finding herself in a small valley.

A stream ran through the valley, its surface covered in a thin layer of ice. She thought to herself that the next time she came, she should bring a hook and line to go fishing.

Further ahead was a precipice. In novels, countless martial arts manuals and miraculous encounters were found at the bottom of cliffs.

Wen Ningzhou turned and left without a second thought.

A “salted fish” has no ambitions, and a “weakling” doesn’t take chances.

She headed back with her small basket, walking at a leisurely, stroll-like pace along the deserted path.

Since transmigrating, Wen Ningzhou had actually become much braver. On the first day Chen Changqing left, she had stayed alone in the small courtyard. There were no other houses nearby; she was entirely alone in that area.

She had been afraid—mostly because, since something as supernatural as transmigration could happen, she couldn’t help but imagine that ghosts and gods might also be real.

The moment that thought surfaced, Wen Ningzhou would pull the covers over her head and curl up tightly under the quilts.

The surroundings felt unnervingly quiet, yet it also felt as if someone was lurking everywhere.

Since she was destined to live there alone, such constant fear wasn’t a sustainable way of life. She eventually turned to a form of “mental victory”: This is all just a game dungeon. I’m just here for the full-immersion experience. There’s no need to be afraid; this is a book, it’s just a map.

Relying on this mental reinforcement, she no longer had to leave a candle burning all night.

This trip up the mountain was just Wen Ningzhou exploring a new part of the “map.” Staying at home all day was stifling; it was good to get some fresh air.

Sometimes, however, fate is unavoidable. She hadn’t wanted to seek out her fortune at the bottom of a cliff, yet fortune was waiting for her anyway.

Wen Ningzhou noticed bloodstains on the withered leaves on the ground. At first, it was a drop every few steps, but the distance between them quickly shortened. Then, she saw blood smeared on a tree trunk.

Her hair stood on end. Why would there be blood in these desolate mountains? There were few animals about in the depths of winter, and there were no signs of a struggle; it was unlikely to be a wild beast.

Where there is blood, there is usually a person. Regardless of who it was, it meant danger.

Wen Ningzhou wanted to find another path. Looking up, she caught sight of someone leaning against a tree ahead out of the corner of her eye.

The person was dressed in a moon-white robe and appeared to be in male attire. One hand was clutched to their chest while the other was pressed against their abdomen. Dark, purplish-black blood was seeping through their fingers.

However, the blood on their clothes was bright red, not yet darkened or congealed. Clearly, the injury was fresh, and that ominous purplish-black colour likely meant they had been poisoned.

Wen Ningzhou instinctively stepped back, her heart racing. She should have turned and run, yet as if possessed, she didn’t leave immediately.

Instead, she remained unnervingly calm.

This NPC was injured seriously injured. They might die.

Before transmigrating, Wen Ningzhou had been a model student and a good citizen. She had grown up in a peaceful era where, despite its coldness, there was enough warmth for her to be raised by the kindness of others and make it to university.

Having come from a time of peace, she had never been faced with death. The person before her was still breathing; they were still alive. If she chose to walk away, they might be dead in the next minute.

A living human being would lose their life before her eyes. Wen Ningzhou watched the person’s hand tighten into a fist as they pressed down hard on their wound. She couldn’t bring herself to ignore that primal will to survive.

Yet, she also knew she was just an ordinary person. She had studied mathematics, not medicine. She had no idea how to save someone; her knowledge of first aid was limited to what she had seen in videos basically just stopping bleeding and performing CPR.

As a complete amateur, she might not be able to help at all, and she might even bring trouble upon herself.

The person had a drawn, sharp sword resting beside them. The blade was so keen that blood wouldn’t even stick to it; it slid off the steel and onto the dry grass, soaking into the earth in a dark red stain.

As the sun shifted, the edge of the sword flashed with a chilling light.

This wasn’t something she could afford to hesitate over. Wen Ningzhou couldn’t waste time. Although her thoughts were detached and she was afraid of getting involved, her feet took a step forward.

Almost the instant Wen Ningzhou’s foot landed on a withered leaf, the person looked up. Their entire face was terrifyingly pale, and their lips were a bluish-white, like a sheet of paper. Only their eyes remained—pitch black, wary, and arrogant.

Even though they were gravely injured and at the mercy of others, their aura was undiminished. They showed not the slightest intention of asking for help, their cold gaze locking onto Wen Ningzhou.

The person’s gaze was as cold as if they had crawled out of a frozen pool of mist. Yet it wasn’t the predatory chill of a snake; it was the sheer pressure of their presence.

Just like the sword at their side—once drawn, it would rather break than bend.

Even though they were the injured party in need of rescue, they remained composed and showed no sign of weakness, as if the blood being shed wasn’t their own.

While Wen Ningzhou was assessing her, Qi Luyao was also gazing back at her.

Qi Luyao imperceptibly twitched the corner of her mouth, hiding the projectile she had held between her fingers. Her other hand was hidden behind her back, quietly making a hand signal.

Stay calm. Wait and see.

The person before her had her hair in a strange bun, tied simply with a strip of cloth. She wore a pale pink padded jacket, and her skirt appeared to have been altered to remove any unnecessary length.

Her anxiety was written all over her face. Her eyes held more than enough kindness but far too little caution; she was clearly an guileless girl accustomed to a stable life.

Wen Ningzhou’s appearance and aura truly didn’t seem like they belonged in these remote mountains.

Qi Luyao watched this girl who didn’t even know enough to run. She was foolishly brave. Qi Luyao had known someone was approaching long ago and had been aware of the girl’s hesitation.

Consequently, she had hidden a weapon in her hand, remaining on full alert while waiting for the girl to leave.

If the girl had any ill intentions, Qi Luyao wouldn’t have hesitated to strike first.

Wen Ningzhou was the first to break the silence. “I live nearby,” she stated simply. “You need help.”

Qi Luyao nodded. She sheathed her sword and used the hilt to support herself as she stood up.

She had two major wounds—one on her chest and one on her abdomen. The abdominal wound was slightly better, having been roughly bandaged, but the chest wound was horrifying to look at.

Wen Ningzhou averted her eyes for a moment, not daring to look at the steadily bleeding wound. She was certain the wound was poisoned; the colour of the blood was completely unnatural.

Despite being in such a wretched state, Qi Luyao stood as straight as a poplar tree.

Her cold eyes turned to Wen Ningzhou. Qi Luyao did indeed need help—urgently. Otherwise, she might die. She knew this, but her character wouldn’t allow her to panic.

Hidden in the shadows behind her was only a single bodyguard. Since jumping from the cliff while poisoned and injured, Qi Luyao had managed to retain some of her internal strength and lightness skills. She had torn her sleeve to bandage her abdomen at the bottom of the cliff.

After leaving a marker for her guards, she had rested here. Her subordinates would eventually find her.

The secret guards had split up to search for her, while some remained atop the cliff to cover their tracks and prevent pursuit. The two who had found her couldn’t give too obvious a signal; one remained to guard her while the other went to gather the rest of the team.

These secret guards didn’t belong to the Emperor; they were Qi Luyao’s personal retainers, and their martial skills far exceeded those of the Imperial Guard.

Qi Luyao had already sealed several major acupoints around her chest wound and taken a detoxification pill. The bloody mess on her chest looked terrifying, but she had to wait for the poisoned blood to drain and turn bright red before she could bandage it.

However, her opponents vastly outnumbered her guards. Qi Luyao didn’t know if the guards or her enemies would arrive first.

Having lost a great deal of blood, a metallic taste rose in Qi Luyao’s throat. Her expression remained calm. “My apologies for the intrusion.”

Wen Ningzhou bolstered her own courage. That’s not blood, it’s just overflowing NPC data. It’s just data. It’s fine, it’s fake, it’s fake.

She stepped forward to support Qi Luyao. “I’ll carry you.”

Qi Luyao was stunned. Looking at the slender back that had unhesitatingly crouched before her, the overwhelming kindness made a wave of warmth spread through her chest. For a moment, she was actually at a loss.

“There is no need,” Qi Luyao said, her eyes downcast. Her voice was cold, yet she felt a sudden sense of awkwardness.

Qi Luyao didn’t know how to respond to someone who offered such straightforward kindness.

“We are both women,” Wen Ningzhou said. “There’s no need for propriety. Let me do it.”

As she drew closer, Wen Ningzhou realized that although this person was in male attire, they were female. She had drawn thick eyebrows and roughened her skin, but with her face deathly pale from blood loss, the makeup was now quite obvious.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been so reckless as to bring an injured member of the opposite sex home. Knowing they were both women significantly lowered Wen Ningzhou’s guard.

Having been seen through, Qi Luyao showed no major reaction. “I apologize for the trouble. I can walk.”

Their first meeting was hardly a pleasant memory—one was cold, proud, and injured, while the other was exhausted as a dog, carrying home someone she’d just picked up.

Qi Luyao’s “no need” had been firm and beyond question. However, the moment Wen Ningzhou took two steps with her, she felt a heavy weight slump against her.

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