Thud!
"Ow."
Face down in the dirt, Qin Ru added one more line to her long list of grievances against the Heavens.
"Really? You send me back in time and can't land me on my feet?"
She pushed herself up, spat out a blade of grass and brushed off her jade-green hanfu. The white lilies embroidered along the hem now wore a fresh coat of mud. With her slender frame and soft features, she looked like the kind of young lady who fainted at the sight of a spider.
Appearances lied. This young lady had once watched a city burn without blinking.
She glanced around. Birds chirped, trees swayed, and the sky was so blue it was almost offensive. Before her stood Guangxi Mountain, green and whole, without a single scorch mark.
"Oh my," she said. "Look at that. Not on fire."
She clapped her hands once. "How generous of the Heavens. Late, but generous."
"Ahh… I'm finally back."
Then her smile slipped. The memories came uninvited, the way they always did.
In her past life, this mountain had been nothing but ash, and so had the rest of the Southern Province. The smoke still clung to her memory, and so did the terrible silence that followed. Worst of all, it had been her fault.
Her eyes stung. She blinked the tears away. Crying would only ruin her face, and her face was one of the few things she still had going for her.
"Fine," she muttered. "This time, I fix it. How hard can it be? I only destroyed a province."
Hooves thundered down the path.
Right on time.
Four horsemen reined in before her, dismounted and dropped to their knees in perfect unison, as if they had rehearsed it. Knowing her father, they probably had.
"Young Miss Ru!"
Qin Ru frowned. In her past life, these same four had trailed her into the Guangxi Kingdom, and that was exactly where everything had begun to fall apart.
"Get up."
They rose, eyes glued to the ground. Their leader, Yu Ye, stepped forward with the face of a man silently drafting his will.
"Lord Qin orders you to return to the manor immediately. This humble one fears we'll be late if we don't hurry."
Yu Ye looked strong enough to wrestle an ox, yet before his young mistress he shrank like a kitten that had just knocked over a vase. Everyone in the Qin manor knew her temper. She was sweet one moment and murderous the next, and no one had ever worked out the pattern. The wiser servants had stopped trying.
A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
Same words, same sweat, Qin Ru thought. Fate really doesn't bother with new lines.
If she went home now, the old disaster would replay step by step, like a play she had already sat through and hated.
Absolutely not.
"Yu Ye, you can all go. I'm not going back."
She was the only daughter of Qin Tian, Lord of Ning City in the Eastern Province. The Qin family was rich, powerful and mysterious, with far more secrets than anyone was comfortable with. Even the Emperor was polite to her father.
She used to think that was because her father was impressive.
Now she knew the real reason, and it made her want to scrub her own skin off.
"We can't!" Yu Ye wailed. "The Lord will skin us alive!"
He wasn't exaggerating. Her father had flayed men for far less, and neatly too.
Did she care?
She considered it briefly. No.
Then she noticed the other three trembling like wet puppies.
Ugh. Fine. Her father really was a monster, and she had no intention of letting him prove it on her account.
"Paper, ink and my seal," she said.
One of the guards scrambled to his saddlebag and returned with everything held out in both hands, like an offering at a temple.
Qin Ru took the items, then kicked him in the shin.
He crumpled to his knees, his face turning purple as he swallowed a scream.
"Perfect." She spread the paper across his back. "Hold still. My handwriting is bad enough already."
Her brush moved quickly. When she was done, she blew the ink dry, stamped the letter with her seal and lifted it off her human desk. The poor man took it as if it might bite and passed it straight to Yu Ye.
Qin Ru snorted. Grown men, terrified of a girl with a writing brush.
She fished a silver coin from the golden pouch at her waist and flicked it at her bruised desk.
"Catch. Buy some medicine for that shin. Or wine. Wine works faster."
He caught it and went red to the ears. "Th-thank you, Young Miss!"
"Don't thank me. I kicked you."
She waved a hand. "Yu Ye, give this letter to my father personally, when he's alone. Once he reads it, he won't skin anyone. Probably. Now go."
Nobody moved.
It wasn't fear for their own lives that held them there. It was fear for hers. These men had served her for years, and they knew what lay beneath the temper: a girl who slipped coins to beggars when she thought no one was watching, and who wept at the funerals of people she claimed not to know. She hid it well. In her world, a kind heart was a weakness people sharpened their knives on.
The worry on their faces annoyed her deeply.
It also warmed something in the cracked, burnt-out place where her soul used to be.
You all died for me once, she thought. Not again. Go home. Get fat. Grow old and boring.
She lifted her chin.
"Have you forgotten who I am? You think anyone in Guangxi could hurt me?"
Her laugh rang out, cold and bright.
"Their General couldn't scratch me with my hands tied behind my back. And with my family name? Nobody is stupid enough to try."
Except, of course, all the ones who did.
The men nodded slowly. Not one of them believed her.
Qin Ru pinched the bridge of her nose. Mercy is wasted on blockheads.
"If you're not gone by the time I count to three, I'll tear up this letter and disappear. You can explain that to my father."
"One…"
"…"
"..."
All that remained was a cloud of dust and the fading sound of hooves. They had fled like men granted a second life.
Qin Ru stared at the empty road.
"…I didn't even get to two."
The road down the mountain was long, dusty and very rude to her embroidered shoes.
By the time Qin Ru reached the bottom, the sun was high, her feet hurt, and her opinion of time travel had dropped considerably. Then a crooked little tea stall came into view at the crossroads, with three wobbly tables and one tired old man fanning a stove.
Paradise.
She sat down and ordered a cup of tea. It was cheap, bitter and tasted like boiled leaves.
"Delicious," she told the old man.
His wrinkled face lit up with pride, so she drank the whole cup out of guilt.
At the next table, two merchants were gossiping loudly enough for the whole province to hear.
"Have you heard? The Emperor's choosing a Holy Lady again."
"Again? Who's the poor girl?"
"The Yin family. Their daughter, apparently. Elder Zhang says she agreed willingly."
The second merchant snorted into his cup. "Elder Zhang also says his teeth are his own."
Qin Ru's cup stopped halfway to her lips.
Holy Lady.
She knew that title. She remembered the red silk, the drums and the cheering crowds. She remembered how it had ended, too.
Her fingers tightened around the cup until the cheap clay creaked.
Suddenly, she could smell smoke again. Somewhere in her memory, someone was screaming a name she could no longer hear clearly.
Then the old man coughed, the merchants laughed, and the world was green again.
Qin Ru slowly put the cup down and placed a silver coin beside it, far too much for bark tea.
"Uncle," she said sweetly, "which way to the capital?"
The old man pointed east. "Two days on foot, miss. But a young lady like you, alone?
These roads aren't safe."
Qin Ru, smiled and turned towards the road into the heart of the Guangxi Kingdom. In another life, that road had led her straight into hell.
She smiled. But this time, it wasn't a nice smile.
"Well then," she murmured. "Let's see how badly I can ruin fate this time."