The Whole Family is Reborn, But I Transmigrated into a Book - Chapter 27

Gu Qingjia did, in the end, read the note.

Perhaps out of fear of discovery, the sender had left no vital information on the paper.

“They truly seem worried about losing their grip on you,” Gu Qingjia remarked with a faint smile. “You are quite a different person now than when you were at the Liu estate.”

Liu Qingyue nodded; there was no sense in denying it. “It’s fortunate we left the capital as early as we did and never spoke of our plans in front of Cuihe. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have waited until now to send word.”

Though she hadn’t spent much time with her parents in this life, a single visit to the Liu household had been enough to reveal the depths of their obsessive need for control.

“We’ll have much more to contend with moving forward,” she added. Now that they had reached an understanding, she no longer felt the need to filter her thoughts.

“Since we came out here to enjoy ourselves, let’s do exactly that,” Gu Qingjia replied. “My men will keep you safe. You don’t need to worry about the rest.”

Having confirmed her loyalty, he had no intention of burdening her with his schemes. In his eyes, Liu Qingyue was still a sheltered lady of the court—vivacious and charming, but ill-suited for the murky waters of political conspiracy.

Liu Qingyue intended to enjoy herself, of course, but her visit to Jiangzhou was not without purpose. She was looking for two people: the local child prodigy, Jiang Shaocong, and the eldest prince, Gu Qingzhan, who was currently hiding in a nearby village.

She kept these thoughts to herself. To Gu Qingjia, she was merely a noblewoman and a family pawn; she shouldn’t have the means or the connections to gather such intelligence.

“Oh, I certainly plan to have fun,” she said casually. “But since we’re staying in Jiangzhou for a while, we might as well learn about the local customs. We could even ask around for news of your eldest brother.”

She spoke cryptically, not wanting to reveal her hand, but she knew that if Gu Qingjia fought this battle alone, his survival was far from guaranteed.

Gu Qingjia let out a soft chuckle. “That might be difficult. We are outsiders here, after all, with no local connections.”

“Opportunities will arise,” she insisted, heartened by his lack of immediate dismissal. “A place as vast as Jiangzhou is bound to have a few friendly faces.”

She could read between the lines of his response, which gave her a sense of relief. Some plot points had already shifted; even with her knowledge of the book, much of her success would now rely on luck. She preferred to be proactive rather than wait for the tides to turn.

Gu Qingjia shared her distaste for passivity. His decision to volunteer to find Gu Qingzhan had been part impulse, part a calculated excuse to escape the imperial city. Every prince had his own agenda—from the second brother guarding the borders and the runaway eldest brother, to the profligate third and the sickly seventh.

As for the rest—himself, the fourth, and the sixth—one lived in a Buddhist temple, another plotted in the shadows, and then there was Gu Qingjia, the “obedient” one who had long been dismissed as a contender for the throne. He wasn’t a strong competitor, nor did he wish to be, yet there were always those who wanted him dead.

Thinking of this, his expression darkened. “You’re right. There are always friendly people. We’ll find my brother eventually.”

Knowing they were in public, he kept his words brief. Liu Qingyue didn’t press him; she only needed him to understand her intent.

“Since we’re here, let’s try the local specialties!” she said, pivoting the conversation back to food.

Gu Qingjia agreed. They had been walking for hours, and it was indeed time for a meal. Watching them from the side, Shuanghua felt the tension leave her shoulders. She noticed that the Master seemed much more relaxed whenever he was with the Madam. It was a good sign, yet a worrying one—there were simply too many eyes watching them from the shadows.

She found herself worrying more as a lady’s maid than she ever had as a secret guard. Back then, her only concern was the Master’s physical safety. She sighed internally; her two “carefree” masters had no idea of the weight on her mind as they began to critique the restaurant’s menu.

Liu Qingyue had essentially eaten her way from Yingzhou to Jiangzhou, visiting nearly a dozen famous local taverns.

“I think their Eight-Treasure Duck isn’t as good as the one in Ruzhou,” she critiqued, “but this Squirrel-Shaped Mandarin Fish is excellent. It’s on the sweeter side—would you like to try some?”

She enjoyed almost all flavors, but she knew Gu Qingjia couldn’t handle spice and preferred sweet and sour dishes. While he never explicitly stated his preferences—habitually hiding his likes as a survival mechanism from the palace—Liu Qingyue had observed him closely enough to know.

Gu Qingjia caught her meaning and smiled as he tasted the fish. It was indeed to his liking, but true to his upbringing, he only took a few bites. Even outside the palace, he couldn’t break the habit of eating only a little of each dish to avoid revealing his favorites to potential poisoners or enemies.

Liu Qingyue was his polar opposite. She had a hearty appetite and hated waste, often finishing what others left behind. While Shuanghua and Yue Qing had seen her eat before, being this close to her still left them slightly stunned.

Gu Qingjia wasn’t a cruel master; he had ordered a separate table for his guards nearby. As Yue Qing watched Liu Qingyue nearing the end of her meal, he gave a dry laugh. “The Madam certainly has a healthy appetite.”

“It’s alright. Just my usual performance,” she chirped. “Don’t rush yourselves; take your time. I still have two plates of snacks to get through, so I’ll be here a while.”

Because Gu Qingjia only took a “tasting” of each dish, Liu Qingyue inevitably became the one to clean the plates. Once finished, she decided to head back out. The incident with the note had dampened her morning, and she wanted to make up for the lost fun.

Gu Qingjia followed behind, giving her the space to explore.

“Master,” Yue Qing whispered, lugging the bags of previous purchases, “is it wise to let the Madam get so far ahead? The streets are crowded. If someone approaches her again, Sister Shuanghua might not be able to handle it alone.”

“It’s fine,” Gu Qingjia replied. “Don’t follow too closely. I don’t want to ruin her mood.”

He knew how much the Liu family had stifled her. Now that she was finally free, he didn’t want to break the spell. In a way, by indulging her, he was indulging the part of himself that had always longed for such reckless freedom. But “innocence” was a cruel word in the imperial family. He hoped she could maintain it, yet he knew she needed to grow if she was to survive. His protection had its limits.

Liu Qingyue, oblivious to his brooding, spotted a street vendor carrying a rack of candied haws (tanghulu). Her eyes lit up. Knowing Shuanghua was right behind her, she darted through the crowd toward the vendor.

In her excitement, she didn’t see the person in front of her and collided with a young woman.

“I am so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you alright? Should I take you to a clinic?”

Liu Qingyue apologized profusely. Her sincerity was so evident that the other woman couldn’t find it in her to be angry.

“I’m fine, really. You’re far too kind, miss.” The woman shook her head. It was just a bump; she hadn’t even lost her balance.

Once certain the woman was unhurt, Liu Qingyue turned to leave. However, the candied haw vendor had already turned the corner onto another street.

“Qingge, did you find what you were looking for?”

Liu Qingyue had only taken a few steps when she heard the name. She froze and turned back. It was the woman she had just bumped into.

Qingge. The heroine of the novel centered around the eldest prince was named Li Qingge.

The realization hit her: she was indeed in the world of the original story, and she had just met the female lead. According to the book, Li Qingge had come to the city to buy a token of affection. She lived in a village on the outskirts of Jiangzhou—the very same village where Gu Qingzhan was hiding.

No one would expect a prince to live in a rural village, yet its proximity to the city made it a strategic location for him to keep an eye on provincial affairs.

Liu Qingyue watched Li Qingge as she walked away with fellow villagers. The eldest prince wasn’t with them. They must be getting married soon, she thought. She remembered that Gu Qingzhan and Li Qingge had fallen in love at first sight. As an outsider staying in her home, gossip was inevitable; to protect her reputation, he would marry her quickly. For a man like him, marrying a village girl was a small price to pay for a cover story. Even if he returned to the capital, he could simply take her along as a concubine.

“Madam? Is something wrong with that woman?” Shuanghua asked, noticing her lingering gaze. The girl hadn’t looked like a martial artist, and Liu Qingyue had been the one to cause the collision, so Shuanghua hadn’t intervened.

“No, nothing. I just felt like I’d heard that name somewhere before. Perhaps I’m mistaken.”

Liu Qingyue shook her head, keeping her revelation secret. But she knew their time was running out. If her memory served her correctly, Gu Qingzhan and Li Qingge were set to wed in just six days.

“Oh! Where did the candied haws go?” she cried out, her attention snapping back to her missed snack.

Shuanghua: “…”

The maid couldn’t help but wonder again: Was the Madam truly not mistreated by her parents?

“The vendor left while you were staring at that girl,” Shuanghua said weakly. She wasn’t sure which was more important to her mistress: the mysterious girl or the sugar-coated fruit.

Liu Qingyue let out a long, dramatic sigh. “It seems fate did not want me to have those candied haws today.”