01
The icy lake water rushed into her mouth and nose, as if an invisible hand was squeezing her lungs, forcing out the last breath of air. On the verge of losing consciousness, the last thought that flashed through Si Mianmian's mind was—
"If I had known that pretending to be innocent would bring divine retribution, I should have just given up in my past life..."
She, Si Mianmian, was a universally acknowledged "perfect innocent lotus" in modern social circles. With her unparalleled tea-making skills and pitiful appearance, she thrived in the world of fame and fortune. Unfortunately, fate was cruel; a bizarre car accident took her life.
In her hazy consciousness, countless unfamiliar fragments of memory rushed into her mind like a flood bursting its banks.
The Ninth Princess, Si Mianmian, shares the same name and surname, and is a nobody in the Yu Dynasty's harem. Her birth mother is the long-disfavored Consort Wen, Wen Lingling, and they live in the remote Zhuixia Pavilion. The mother and daughter live worse than even the more respectable servants. Today, in the Imperial Garden, simply because she accidentally saw the new bracelet of the Seventh Princess Si Yunshang, daughter of Consort Li, her spoiled seventh sister pushed her into the Taiye Pond with the words "it's an eyesore."
The original owner, that truly cowardly and pitiful person, simply drowned.
Then, she arrived.
"Cough cough...cough..."
A sharp, agonizing pain shot through Si Mianmian's chest, and she coughed up several mouthfuls of water. Her eyelids felt as heavy as lead. All she could hear were the cacophony of voices, a mixture of panic and indifferent detachment.
"She's awake! The Ninth Princess is awake!" A girl's voice, trembling with sobs, rang out. It was the original owner's personal maid, whose name seemed to be... Qiu He?
Si Mianmian opened her eyes with difficulty. The first thing she saw was Qiu He's tear-streaked face, and several eunuchs and palace maids with different expressions around her. She was lying on the cold stone slabs by the lake, soaked to the bone. The chilly spring wind made her teeth chatter.
"Ninth Sister is really lucky; she didn't die even in such cold water." A spoiled and arrogant voice rang out, filled with undisguised malice.
Si Mianmian looked up and saw a young girl dressed in a scarlet palace gown, adorned with jewels, surrounded by palace servants. The girl looked down at her with disdain and contempt in her eyes. It was the perpetrator—the Seventh Princess, Si Yunshang.
According to the original owner's memories, this seventh sister, relying on her birth mother, Consort Li, who was currently enjoying some favor with the emperor, had always been domineering and tyrannical in the harem, and bullying the original owner was a common occurrence for her.
If it were the real Ninth Princess, she would probably only be trembling and crying, or cowardly begging for mercy at this moment.
But Si Mianmian was completely unmoved, and even felt a little like laughing.
This kind of low-level bullying tactic was laughably childish in her extensive experience of "tea art" (a metaphor for manipulative and manipulative tactics). She quickly assessed the current situation: there was ample evidence and witnesses, but the Seventh Princess was favored, and she had no one to back her up; a direct confrontation would definitely be disadvantageous. Showing weakness? That was precisely her forte. However, to show weakness, she had to do it just right, make it breathtaking, make it so that even bystanders would feel pity, and put invisible pressure on the perpetrator.
This is a performance, and the stage has already been set up.
Contrary to the Seventh Princess's expectations, Si Mianmian didn't cry or beg for mercy. Instead, she used all her strength to prop herself up, then raised her eyes—eyes made even more distinct by the lake water—and quietly gazed at Si Yunshang. In those eyes, there was no resentment, no anger, only a near-broken confusion and a barely perceptible...sadness?
Her lips moved slightly, her voice as faint as a candle flickering in the wind, yet it reached the ears of everyone present clearly: "Seventh Sister... Mianmian... Did Mianmian do something wrong?"
Before Si Yunshang could answer, she lowered her head, her long eyelashes still glistening with tears, trembling like startled butterfly wings. Her voice was choked with sobs: "Mianmian just... just thought Seventh Sister's new bracelet was really pretty, and wanted to take a closer look... Mianmian didn't know... didn't know she would make Seventh Sister angry..."
As she spoke, she clutched her soaked clothes tightly with her cold little hands. Her thin body trembled like a leaf in the autumn wind, making her a pitiful sight to behold.
"If...if it's Mianmian's fault, Mianmian apologizes to Seventh Sister...please, Seventh Sister...don't be angry, it will harm your health...Mianmian would be guilty even if she were to die a thousand deaths..."
These words were spoken with utmost sincerity and humility. They not only confirmed the Seventh Princess's heinous act of pushing someone into the water over a trivial matter, but also highlighted her own innocence, humility, and "sensibleness."
The palace servants who had initially been indifferent now had slightly changed their expressions. Their gazes toward the Seventh Princess held a hint of disapproval, while their eyes fell on the trembling little figure on the ground with a touch of pity.
Princess Si Yunshang was speechless for a moment, choked by the retort. She was used to her Ninth Sister's submissiveness or her terrified tears; she had never witnessed such a scene of feigned retreat, barbed words, yet impossible to find fault with. Her face flushed with anger, she wanted to curse but couldn't find a reason, so she could only stomp her foot angrily: "You... what nonsense are you talking about! It was clearly you who lost your footing!"
"It's...it's because Mianmian lost her balance..." Si Mianmian readily agreed, her voice growing weaker and weaker. Her head tilted to the side, as if she had used up her last bit of strength, and she softly fell back to the ground, her eyes tightly closed, as if she had fainted again. But as she fell, her fingertips grazed the rough stone floor with unparalleled precision.
"Princess!" Qiuhe rushed over, crying her heart out, "Quickly, summon the imperial physician! The Ninth Princess is dying!"
The scene immediately descended into chaos.
Si Mianmian "slowly woke up" on the hard bed in Zhuixia Pavilion.
The moment she opened her eyes, she was met with Consort Wen's eyes, red and swollen from crying. Consort Wen wasn't actually that old, but years of disappointment and a life of extreme caution had etched deep lines around her eyes and brows, making her appear much older than her actual age. Seeing her daughter awake, she hugged her tightly, tears streaming down her face again: "Mianmian, my child, you're finally awake… You scared your mother to death…"
Feeling the genuine worry that connected her to this body by blood, Si Mianmian's heart, hardened like iron in modern society, softened for the first time. Hmm, this mother seems to truly love her daughter; she's someone who can be won over (or manipulated).
"Mother..." she began weakly, her voice hoarse, "Your unfilial daughter has caused you worry..."
"It's good that she's awake, it's good that she's awake..." Consort Wen wiped away her tears, rambling on and on, "The imperial physician came to see her and said that the cold had entered her body, and she needs to rest and recuperate for a while... The Seventh Princess is too..." She swallowed the words back, leaving only a helpless sigh. In this deep palace, disfavored concubines and princesses who had lost power could only swallow their grievances and suffer in silence.
Si Mianmian grasped Consort Wen's hand, revealing a pale but understanding smile: "Mother, don't be sad. It was my own carelessness; it has nothing to do with Seventh Sister. Please don't provoke Consort Li for my sake..."
The more she said this, the more bitter and upset Wen Pin felt, and her resentment towards Consort Li and her daughter deepened.
Just then, the high-pitched voice of the chief eunuch rang out from outside the courtyard: "The Emperor has arrived—The Empress has arrived—"
Consort Wen trembled with fright, her face turning pale. "Your Majesty... how long has it been since Your Majesty last set foot in Zhuixia Pavilion? A year? Or two?"
A barely perceptible glint flashed in Si Mianmian's eyes.
The fish has taken the bait.
When Emperor Yu Ming, Si Yuanhong, stepped into this simply furnished, even somewhat shabby, palace, his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. Behind him, Empress Shen remained as dignified, graceful, and impeccable as ever.
"Your Majesty, I pay my respects to Your Majesty and Your Majesty the Empress." Consort Wen and her palace servants hurriedly knelt to greet them.
Si Mianmian struggled to get out of bed to pay her respects, but the emperor stopped her by raising his hand: "You are weak, lie down."
His voice betrayed little emotion, his gaze fixed on Si Mianmian's pale, bloodless face. The girl before him seemed somewhat different from the blurry, timid figure he remembered. He couldn't quite put his finger on the difference. Perhaps it was the recent fall into the water that had given her a fragile, vulnerable air about her.
Empress Shen spoke gently: "How are you feeling, Ninth Girl? Is there anything else that's bothering you? Is the medicine prescribed by the imperial physician ready?"
"Father, Mother," Si Mianmian leaned against the pillow, her voice weak but trying to be clear, "I'm much better. I'm so sorry for worrying you, Father and Mother. It's all my fault." She paused, her gaze timidly turning to the Emperor, filled with filial piety and a hint of unease, "I fell into the water, disturbing you, Father and Mother, disturbing your peace. I... I deserve to die..."
As she spoke, tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall but clinging to her long eyelashes, making the viewer's heart clench.
The Emperor gazed at the face that bore a resemblance to Consort Wen, yet was more delicate and youthful, especially the pure dependence and guilt in her clear eyes. A slight stirring stirred within him. He had many children, and usually focused his attention on outstanding princes or favored princesses, having indeed neglected this quiet and reserved ninth daughter for far too long.
“Nonsense,” the emperor’s tone softened. “Since it was an accidental fall into the water, just take good care of him. What crime is there in that?”
"It wasn't an accident!" Qiu He, who was kneeling on the ground, suddenly mustered her courage and kowtowed with a sob in her voice, shouting, "Your Majesty, please see the truth! It was the Seventh Princess... it was the Seventh Princess who pushed our princess into the water!"
"Qiuhe! Shut up!" Consort Wen was so frightened that she quickly scolded her.
Si Mianmian also showed a panicked expression at the right time, grabbed Qiuhe and said urgently to the emperor, "Father, please forgive me! Qiuhe is confused from fright! It was my own fault... I lost my balance..." Her voice grew softer and softer as she spoke, and her eyes flickered. Anyone could see that she was hiding something and was afraid.
This gesture was ten times more effective than a direct accusation.
The emperor's brow furrowed even more. Having held the throne for so long, how could he not see the truth behind this clumsy attempt at "protection"? Considering Consort Li's recent somewhat flamboyant behavior and the Seventh Sister's temperament, he was already seven or eight parts convinced. His gaze towards Si Mianmian softened further. This child, having suffered such a great injustice, still wanted to settle things peacefully and protect her sisterly "friendship"—truly kind and compassionate.
"Alright," the Emperor said in a deep voice, "I know what I'm doing. You can focus on recovering. If you need anything, just tell the Empress."
He then turned to Consort Wen, his tone calm yet carrying a hint of admonition: "Consort Wen, take good care of the Ninth Princess. Harmony is essential in the harem. Keep your servants in check and prevent them from spreading rumors."
"Yes, Your Majesty, I will remember." Consort Wen replied, prostrating herself on the ground.
The emperor and empress did not linger. They offered a few words of comfort, bestowed some medicinal herbs and cloth upon the emperor, and then departed.
Zhuixia Pavilion returned to its quiet state, but the atmosphere was different. The palace servants were noticeably more attentive and diligent in their service.
In the stillness of the night, Si Mianmian lay alone in her tent, her palm outstretched, looking at the faint, scabbed scratch on her fingertip in the dim moonlight streaming through the window. This was a "wound" she had deliberately inflicted when she collapsed.
She gently curved her lips into a smile, revealing a shrewd and calculating expression that was completely different from her gentle demeanor during the day.
The first step was to feign weakness, planting seeds of sympathy and suspicion in the mind of the ultimate judge, which proved successful.
In this cannibalistic harem, in this real-life "survival game," she, the max-level innocent lotus, has officially entered the fray.
Survival Handbook Rule #1: True tears should be shed in front of someone who can stand up for you. A soft knife is often more deadly than a hard fist.
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