**Chapter 5**

When the two letters arrived, Li Mu was doing her warm-up exercises.

One of the benefits of being perceived as a fool is that no matter what you do, as long as you don’t harm yourself or disturb others, they won’t waste their energy trying to stop you.

So, besides “playing hide and seek” and reading and writing, Li Mu would do a set of warm-up exercises every day, followed by a set or two of Baduanjin (*).

T/N: a traditional Chinese exercise that consists of eight distinct movements designed to improve health and well-being.

Of course, she didn’t start off so carefree. When she first transmigrated, she was very cautious, not daring to do or say anything. Coupled with the fear and anxiety of being in an unfamiliar environment, she had insomnia night after night, staring blankly every day, and her mental state was on the verge of collapse.

At that time, she even thought: Transmigrating to such a dreadful place in ancient times, it would be better to just die. But no matter how bad the environment is, survival instinct is always a part of human nature.

She wanted to live, at least for now. She wasn’t in a situation where she had to die. After a long period of depression and struggle, she briefly overcame the fear brought by the unfamiliar environment. She took the initiative, albeit with difficulty, to express to the old madam her frustration of not being able to sleep even after drinking calming soup. She also started doing some mild exercises to relieve stress, adjust her mood, and increase physical fatigue to promote sleep.

It’s hard to say whether the new calming soup and incense prescribed by the doctor, the exercise, or perhaps a combination of both alleviated her anxiety. In any case, her sleep improved significantly compared to the beginning.

So, Li Mu maintained the habit of exercising and increased the amount of exercise as her body adapted until the end of last year when she switched to warm-up exercises and Baduanjin.

While Li Mu was doing her warm-up exercises, Qianyun sat on an embroidery stool nearby, holding a small bamboo basket filled with colorful embroidery threads, tying a knot on a lotus jade pendant.

The jade pendant was a gift from the old madam. After learning that Li Mu had given her New Year’s money to Nanny Zhao and the others, the old madam called Nanny Zhao, Qianyun, and Feixing to scold them, making them grateful to their kind-hearted young mistress. She also gave Li Mu the jade pendant as compensation for the money she had given away.

After Li Mu finished her warm-up and a set of Baduanjin, the old madam returned.

The old madam had gone to the flower hall earlier, as a distinguished guest had arrived at the residence, and Madam Qian had hurriedly called for the old madam.

Li Mu didn’t think this guest had anything to do with her, so she didn’t pay much attention. But to her surprise, the old madam came directly to her upon returning and handed her a letter addressed to her personally.

Li Mu’s first reaction was panic.

In modern times, Li Mu not only disliked receiving phone calls but even felt uncomfortable seeing text messages from unfamiliar people. She would reply cautiously, choosing her words carefully, resulting in very slow responses. To avoid seeming impolite for replying slowly, she would sometimes lie, saying her internet connection was poor and messages were delayed. Whenever she communicated with strangers, even in ordinary conversations, she needed a long time to calm down afterward.

After transmigrating, Li Mu received one or two letters from distant relatives or friends of the original owner inquiring about her health. Those letters stopped coming after the news of Li Mu’s foolishness spread.

Li Mu looked at the letter the old madam brought as if facing a great enemy. She hadn’t even opened it yet and was already casting a pleading look at the old madam—

Help me, help me, help me!

The old madam lovingly patted Li Mu’s head and told her that the letter was from the little girl they had met at the temple a few days ago. She also instructed Li Mu to keep it safe and not let anyone else take it.

The old madam seemed to understand that Li Mu might not want to reply, so she added, “I spoke with the court lady Qiu Zhu, who delivered the letter and explained your difficulties. Yunxi also received a letter, and I asked her to include a message for you in her reply. So, it’s fine if you don’t respond.”

Li Mu felt a great sense of relief.

Even though she didn’t have to reply, Li Mu still waited until the next day to mentally prepare herself before opening the letter. She then translated its contents into classical Chinese.

The translated content roughly said: “It’s been a few days since we last met. How are you, sister? I got lost at the temple before, and I’m grateful to have met you and Yunxi. Now, I’m back home with my aunt from the temple. You and Yunxi can come to the Princess’s residence to play with me. By the way, I recently got a new white foal and haven’t named it yet. I’ve been thinking for a long time but can’t decide on a name. Do you have any suggestions? If you do, please let me know.”

The content was quite ordinary. Li Mu stared at the last sentence, “I look forward to your reply,” knowing that it meant the sender hoped for a response.

Li Mu: Thanks for the invitation, but I already feel the agony.

In the afternoon, her stepmother, Madam Qian, who should have been busy with the Lantern Festival preparations, called her over. She asked if Li Mu had read the letter delivered yesterday and reminded her, “Princess Kangning is a girl raised in the Grand Princess’s residence. Even a legitimate princess must show her respect. Be sure not to neglect her, and don’t say anything offensive.”

Li Mu listened quietly and anxiously, occasionally nodding to show she understood. But Madam Qian didn’t trust the reactions of a fool. She sighed worriedly, wanting to take the letter and write a reply on Li Mu’s behalf.

However, the old madam explained Li Mu’s situation to the court lady Qiu Zhu, who delivered the letter. Qiu Zhu was considerate and informed Princess Kangning about Li Mu’s condition. She assured that the Princess wouldn’t be upset if Li Mu didn’t reply. However, the Princess had a domineering personality and would be angry if she found out her letter was read by someone unrelated.

Madam Qian wasn’t foolish. She understood that Qiu Zhu’s message meant it was okay not to reply as long as no one else read the letter and spied on the private conversation between the Princess and Li Mu. After much hesitation, Madam Qian decided not to write a reply on Li Mu’s behalf. Instead, she had the servants bring out many accessories and sachets that young girls liked, setting up a table for Li Mu to choose something to send to Lin Qiwu.

Li Mu thought this was a good idea. She didn’t have to reply, and it would prevent the little girl from being disappointed by not receiving a response.

As for what to send… Li Mu looked through the items on the table. The jewelry seemed too valuable and a bit random.

What did Lin Qiwu mention in the letter?

A white foal.

Li Mu tried to find something related to a white horse. She found a white rabbit doll and a reddish-brown porcelain horse, but no white horse.

Madam Qian sat nearby, listening to the steward’s report. Li Mu didn’t dare to interrupt, so she stood there holding the doll and the porcelain horse, waiting.

Seeing her like this, Madam Qian assumed she had made her choice and told her to take both items.

Madam Qian knew not to appear too eager to please, lest it be seen as a sign of weakness, so she instructed, “Just send one and keep the other for yourself.”

Li Mu: “…” The unspoken question remained trapped inside her.

Social anxiety works like this: if she could avoid communication, she would. However, Li Mu felt neither item had anything to do with a white horse, and she wasn’t comfortable sending either.

When in doubt, exercise first.

She returned to her room and began her daily warm-up exercises while pondering. As she was doing the arm twists, Qianyun brought her the jade pendant with a newly tied knot, saying that the previous knot, though meaningful, was too heavy in color and looked old-fashioned. She had just untied it and retied it, checking if the length was suitable and would adjust it if necessary.

The new butterfly knot was stylish, and as Li Mu stared at the intricate weaving of the threads, she suddenly had an idea.

After checking the length, Qianyun went back to adjust the knot. Li Mu stopped her warm-up and went to her dressing table, rummaging through it until she found a plain, oddly shaped silver hairpin.

This hairpin, which she had exchanged with Feixing for a plum blossom silver bracelet, was thin at both ends and thick in the middle. The thin end resembled an ear-pick, but instead of the usual shape, it curved inward into a small arc. Li Mu had exchanged for it because it looked like a crochet hook.

Finding the silver hairpin, Li Mu went over to Qianyun and reached into the small bamboo basket while seeing her puzzled look and grabbed a ball of white thread.

Qianyun asked, “Miss, do you want this thread?”

Li Mu nodded.

Qianyun squeezed the ball of thread to ensure that no embroidery needles were mixed in, then let her take it.

Li Mu first got used to the new tool, even bending the hairpin’s tip to adjust the curve. After starting, it took her less than half an hour to use up the small ball of white thread, and she went back to Qianyun for another one. Later, she took brown, yellow, and black threads, a small amount of gold thread, and a cotton ball. By the end, she felt a bit embarrassed, but Qianyun, intrigued by what Li Mu was making, proactively placed the basket in front of her and urged her to take more. Finally, she spent an hour and a half making a small crochet horse, only half the size of a palm.

The horse had a white body, mane, and tail, with a brown saddle edged in yellow on its back. To make the colors less monotonous, she added a thin gold border around the edges. Stuffed with cotton, it was plump and very cute. She wasn’t sure if modern crochet items would appeal to ancient girls, but she had done her best. To make the finished product look nice, she also tied a simple knot she had learned from Qianyun and added a tassel she had learned to make online before transmigrating, attaching it to the horse.

Because she worked quickly, only Li Mu, Qianyun, and Feixing, who came in to pour water and bring snacks, knew about it. When the item was presented, the old madam thought Madam Qian had prepared it, while Madam Qian thought the old madam had prepared it. Both found the craftsmanship rare and charmingly rustic, and neither questioned the maids closely.

After the horse was sent out, the first night of the Lantern Festival celebrations began. The curfew was lifted throughout the capital on the thirteenth day of the first lunar month and reinstated on the seventeenth.

Li Mu’s siblings took advantage of the lifted curfew to enjoy the lanterns. Curious about whether the ancient Lantern Festival was as bustling as depicted in modern films, Li Mu was taken out by her most carefree third brother on the night of the thirteenth, when the lanterns were lit.

Curiosity gave her the courage to go out, but as soon as she stepped out, she felt uneasy. By the time she got out of the carriage and stood in the bustling street, her heart rate had already exceeded the normal range, her hands and feet tingling from the abnormal heartbeat. The buzzing in her ears and scattered attention made it hard to hear Qianyun and Feixing, and even breathing became difficult.

After finally getting away from the crowd, her third brother and his servant were lost in the crowd, leaving only the maids to protect Li Mu. Pale-faced, she leaned against a wall, dry heaving, and broke out in a sweat despite the cold January weather.

For the next few days, she learned her lesson, changing into appropriate white silk jackets and blue satin skirts, staying by the old madam’s side as an emotionless mascot, eating a bowl of tangyuan (glutinous rice balls) called “yuanzi,” and drinking some soy soup, avoiding any further outings.

After the Lantern Festival, Lin Qiwu wrote another letter to Li Mu. The main points were twofold: first, to thank Li Mu for the little horse, which she liked so much that she couldn’t bear to wear it, and to tell Li Mu that she had named her foal “Jia Guang”; second, to mention that the Lantern Festival had been lively, but she and her aunt had attended a banquet at the palace on the most exciting night. Otherwise, she would have invited Li Yunxi and Li Mu to see the dragon lanterns and the grand Ao Mountain.

Li Mu: “…” Good thing you went to the palace banquet.

Along with the letter came a delicate and small pearl lantern, likely a return gift for the crochet horse.

Since then, Lin Qiwu seemed to have developed a habit of writing to her, sending a letter every few days.

Fortunately, the content was mostly trivial daily matters, and even if there were questions, they didn’t explicitly ask Li Mu to reply.

Li Mu wondered why Lin Qiwu would write so many letters to her for no reason until she heard from Li Yunxi that she and Lin Qiwu also frequently exchanged letters, often sending each other delicious and fun things. This made sense to Li Mu. Perhaps Lin Qiwu was treating her as a confidant while befriending Li Yunxi, Li Mu thought.

Life went on as usual, except for receiving Lin Qiwu’s letters; everything was pretty much the same.

After the ninth day of the first lunar month, Li Mu “played” hide and seek three more times. The first time, she heard that Li Wendao was entertaining guests in the flower hall, but when she went there, he was nowhere to be found, and the study was empty. The second time, Li Wendao was alone in the study, doing something unknown. He got up midway to look out the window, but fortunately, Li Mu was alert and ran away quickly, avoiding being caught.

At that time, Li Mu didn’t run far, only squatted at the corner of the small path for about the time it took to drink a cup of tea—around ten minutes. During this time, Li Wendao opened the window and looked out no less than three times, probably because Li Mu’s letter theft had left him with a significant psychological shadow.

The third time Li Mu returned, she found that the secluded path had been sealed off by Li Wendao’s orders, with walls at both ends. This cured Li Wendao’s psychological shadow, so he no longer had to constantly worry about someone being outside the window, and it completely cut off Li Mu’s chance to eavesdrop under the study window.

On the day of the Spring Equinox, Li Yunxi came to the old madam’s courtyard to pay her respects. Afterward, she didn’t leave and waited until Li Mu got up, pulling her along to balance the eggs.

In modern times, few people celebrate the solar terms, and Li Mu only learned after transmigrating that not only the Dragon Boat Festival but also the Spring and Autumn Equinoxes have the custom of balancing eggs.

Li Yunxi tried to balance the egg several times, but it wouldn’t stand up. She suspected it was because of the wind outside or the uneven table, so she pulled Li Mu inside. However, the result was the same indoors. She lay on the table, looking at Li Mu with a pleading gaze like a small animal, “Fifth sister…”

Li Mu: What do you mean?

Li Yunxi: “Help me think of a way. I made a bet with Seventh sister, and I don’t want to lose.”

Li Mu: What way? A way to make the egg stand up faster?

How could she possibly know? Wait, she might actually know.

Li Mu didn’t really want to say, but Li Yunxi looked at her with such expectation, as if she believed Li Mu could definitely give her an answer.

Li Mu: “…” Too cute, a bit hard to resist.

Li Mu turned her head away, but Li Yunxi used her small hands to turn Li Mu’s head back, using her childish voice to act coquettishly, “If I win, Seventh sister will ask Aunt Liu to make me some hundred-fruit cake, and I’ll share some with you, okay?”

Hundred-fruit cake, as described in the book, is Li Yunxi’s favorite pastry. The cake itself is not particularly expensive, but each family has its own recipe. Li Yunxi’s favorite is the one made by Aunt Liu, a concubine from Hangzhou in her second uncle’s household. After the Li family was raided, she never tasted the same hundred-fruit cake again. Even when the male protagonist ascended the throne and brought the most famous pastry chef from Hangzhou to make it for her, she could never recapture the sweetness she loved as a child. It took her many years to realize that she missed not only the delicious cake but also the carefree childhood with her parents.

“…Raw eggs,” Li Mu’s voice sounded as light as usual.

During her university years, Li Mu didn’t join any clubs, but her roommate was part of the Hanfu club. While preparing for the Dragon Boat Festival activities, Li Mu helped search online for suitable games, one of which was balancing eggs. The related content included tips for balancing eggs, which required using raw eggs.

Afraid that raw eggs would be difficult to clean if broken, the maids gave them hard-boiled eggs. Hard-boiled eggs have a fixed center of gravity, making them harder to balance than raw eggs.

“Do we need to use raw eggs?” Li Yunxi, having received the answer, straightened up and asked the maid Yinping to bring a raw egg.

The scattered hard-boiled eggs nearly rolled off the table, but Li Mu caught them and silently prayed that the raw egg would stand up and not break, as it was her idea.

Li Yunxi received the cleaned raw egg and began a new round of attempts, holding her breath. She failed the first two times but succeeded on the third, happily clapping her hands.

At that moment, a maid’s voice came from outside, announcing that Seventh Miss Li Ying had arrived.

Hearing the announcement, Li Yunxi grabbed the egg and ran outside, eager to show off to Li Ying and make her admit defeat.

Li Mu didn’t follow immediately. She still held the hard-boiled egg that Li Yunxi didn’t want. She touched the egg’s surface and suddenly remembered how to balance a hard-boiled egg. She couldn’t recall where she had seen this method, perhaps in a puzzle book with illustrations or a nonsensical comic…

As she recalled the source, Li Mu followed the remembered method, placing the egg on the table.

Feixing, standing nearby, thought she would let go and was ready to catch the egg, but Li Mu moved her wrist and cracked the egg’s bottom on the table.

The egg’s bottom shell cracked, and Li Mu didn’t pick it up but released it, letting the cracked bottom form a circle that allowed the egg to stand.

“Fifth sister! Come quickly!” Li Yunxi’s urging voice came from outside.

Li Mu got up and walked out, hoping the two little girls wouldn’t drop the raw egg. It would be hard to clean up, and wasting food would make her heartache.

Feixing stared blankly at Li Mu’s departing figure, then looked at the standing egg on the table. After a while, she followed in a daze.