Sun Miaoqing, who had embarrassed herself in front of the hall, lost her eligibility to participate in palace selections forever.

As expected, Zhen Huan’s name was kept on the roster, and she received a sachet as a token of favor.

Zhen Huan thought back to her previous life. After the palace selection, she had once told Shen Meizhuang that those who wanted to stay weren’t kept, while those who didn’t want to stay had been.

But deep down, she knew that she had wanted to be selected.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have gone out of her way to explain herself when the Empress Dowager mentioned that her surname coincided with the emperor’s tabooed name.

Nor would she have concealed her fear of cats and appeared so composed.

Thinking about it now, it felt like the sort of denial you’d hear from a scholar who, after becoming the top scorer in the imperial examinations, insists they had no intention of winning.

“No wonder An Lingrong felt that I looked down on her. In my past life, the way I spoke truly could make people misunderstand. Every word sounded as if I were deliberately showing off.”

Zhen Huan reflected on this and silently warned herself:

“I must avoid saying those things that leave others feeling sour or uncomfortable.”

So, in this life, after she and Shen Meizhuang were both chosen, their conversation was filled with mutual congratulations and shared dreams about life in the imperial harem.

This time, she did not mention anything about not wanting to be selected.

The two of them walked hand in hand to the palace gates, where they bid each other farewell and returned to their respective homes.

Liuzhu and Huanbi accompanied Zhen Huan’s carriage the entire way back.

As they neared the Zhen residence, the sound of gongs and drums filled the air, and the entire place exuded a festive atmosphere.

Lifting the curtain, Zhen Huan saw her father and mother waiting at the gate, beaming with pride as they eagerly awaited their daughter’s return.

At the sight of this, Zhen Huan felt a flood of emotions.

Although she had already experienced so much in her past life, she still felt immense gratitude when she saw her parents.

To her, her father and mother were her eternal pillars of strength, her unwavering source of comfort in times of trouble.

When Zhen Huan stepped out of the carriage, she was greeted by her father, Zhen Yuandao, who clasped his hands together and said, “This humble servant, Zhen Yuandao, along with my family, greets the young mistress. May the young mistress be blessed and safe.”

Perhaps because of her experiences in her past life, Zhen Huan felt a slight pang of discomfort at the formality of her family’s greeting, but she had long since grown accustomed to it.

She understood her father’s respect for proper etiquette and didn’t insist that he rise immediately.

Only after they had finished their bows did she have Liuzhu and Huanbi help them up.

Once inside, Zhen Huan told her parents that before entering the palace, she wished to serve them with utmost respect, a desire that they happily approved of.

She also mentioned her intention to invite An Lingrong to stay at their residence.

Zhen Yuandao and Madam Zhen agreed that having someone else to look out for her in the palace would be beneficial, so they left it to her to handle.

Early the next morning, Liuzhu brought An Lingrong and her stepmother, Aunt Xiao, to the Zhen residence.

Naturally, An Lingrong expressed her deep gratitude.

Zhen Huan reassured her, saying, “Treat the Zhen residence as your own home. No need to be overly polite or reserved.”

When the topic of An Lingrong’s recent experiences came up, Liuzhu, ever the straightforward one, blurted out, “Speaking of which, when we went to the inn, the owner practically treated Miss An like some rare treasure and refused to let her leave. I had to give him quite the scare before he finally relented!”

Seeing the smug expression on Liuzhu’s face as she recounted the story, Zhen Huan couldn’t help but laugh.

Lively, cheerful, and quick-witted—Zhen Huan truly adored Liuzhu’s personality.

Having lost so much in her past life, she now cherished everything she regained as if it were a priceless treasure.

After dinner, Zhen Huan was in her boudoir reading.

Based on her past life, she knew her father, Zhen Yuandao, would come to give her some advice that evening.

She continued reading, treating it as a way to pass the time while waiting.

Sure enough, about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, Zhen Yuandao arrived.

He advised her:

“If you’re not absolutely confident in securing the emperor’s favor, you must learn to bide your time, hide your talents, and keep a low profile.

I don’t expect my daughter to achieve wealth and glory or dominate the harem.

I only wish for my precious daughter to live peacefully, happily, and safely into old age.”

That night, Zhen Huan also learned that Huanbi was her half-sister and that Huanbi’s mother was the daughter of a criminal.

In her past life, Zhen Huan had been shocked to learn about Huanbi’s background but hadn’t felt much else.

Now, hearing Zhen Yuandao’s words, she deeply understood the meaning of the saying:

“Parents who love their children will always plan far ahead.”

It reminded her of the care and planning she had put into her daughter Long Yue’s future in her past life, three days before leaving for Ganlu Temple.

Parental concern for their children is a worry carved into their very bones.

Understanding Zhen Yuandao’s guilt and worries for Huanbi, Zhen Huan promised him, “If the opportunity arises in the future, I’ll ensure Huanbi marries into a good family.”

Having shared his worries with his daughter, Zhen Yuandao finally felt a sense of relief.

Not long after, an imperial decree arrived from the palace:

Zhen Huan was promoted to the rank of Sixth-Class Changzai, with the title “Guan.”

An Lingrong was promoted to Seventh-Class Daying.

Shen Meizhuang, as in their past lives, was made a Noble Lady.

The three were to enter the palace on the fifteenth day of the ninth lunar month.

From the eunuch delivering the decree, they learned that Xia Dongchun had given the etiquette instructor a hard time.

Zhen Huan knew Xia Dongchun was a minor character who would soon be dealt with by Consort Hua, so she didn’t bother paying her any attention.

After delivering the decree, the eunuch left Fangruo behind to teach Zhen Huan and An Lingrong court etiquette.

Seeing Fangruo again filled Zhen Huan with a sense of familiarity.

In her past life, Fangruo had helped her both overtly and covertly many times.

After Zhen Huan left the palace for Ganlu Temple, the emperor had reassigned Fangruo to the Empress Dowager’s palace.

But when Fangruo delivered Buddhist scriptures to Ganlu Temple on behalf of the Empress Dowager, she showed no resentment or hostility toward Zhen Huan.

Believing Fangruo to be a dependable and trustworthy person, Zhen Huan treated her with even greater respect.

However, the title “Guan” puzzled Zhen Huan.

In her past life, she hadn’t understood its meaning, though the empress surely had.

Based on her knowledge of the empress, there was no way she would have allowed the emperor to elevate another woman so openly without protest.

So why had the title still been granted?

This suggested just how little influence the empress truly had over the emperor.

Zhen Huan could easily picture the empress feigning magnanimity while secretly gnashing her teeth in frustration.

That old woman was an expert at manipulating people’s hearts!

Although Zhen Huan understood the palace’s inner workings, she still pretended to be ignorant, attentively listening to Fangruo’s explanations.

When Fangruo spoke of Consort Hua’s beauty and grace surpassing the Eight Banners of Manchuria and Mongolia combined, Zhen Huan couldn’t help but sigh inwardly:

No matter how radiant and invincible Consort Hua seemed, she ultimately met her end by smashing her head against a wall.

Reflecting on her past life, Zhen Huan realized much of her hatred for Consort Hua had been fueled by the empress.

Consort Hua’s arrogance and blunt ways had earned her many enemies among the women competing for favor.

The empress had always seen her as a thorn in her side, using her as a scapegoat whenever possible.

Consort Hua, with her straightforward nature, was no match for the scheming empress, who thrived on manipulation and deception.