By the height of summer, the trees were lush and full.

The wind of July blew, carrying with it the unbearable heat.

Only the incessant sound of cicadas remained, which only caused annoyance.

The heat was unbearable, and the maidservants in the courtyard were scattered, sitting in twos and threes in the corridor to cool off.

Among them was a maid with two buns in her hair, her features delicate and clear.

She turned to look at the quiet room, her eyes showing a hint of unease.

She lowered her voice and asked, “…It’s been several days now, why is there still no sound? Are we really not going to do anything?”

A maid next to her, dressed in a light red gown, put down the fan she was using to shield her forehead from the sun.

Her expression showed indifference as she replied, “What does this have to do with us? The master has given a strict order that no one is allowed to visit or send food into the room.”

“Do you dare to defy him?” The first maid paused, sneering. “Moreover, the person inside is in a bad mood right now. If you rush in to try and please her, you won’t end up with anything good.”

The first maid seemed to think of something, shrinking back and shaking her head repeatedly.

The maid in red impatiently waved her fan, her gaze shifting to the outside of the courtyard gate. “Didn’t they say that the lady’s courtyard has already released someone? Just wait!”

As her words were finishing, an older maid with a round bun and a stout build, wearing a dark blue gown, stormed in, looking furious.

The lazy maids in the corridor quickly scattered, except for the maid in red, who didn’t seem overly concerned and slowly stood up.

Zhao Maomao, the older maid, wore a grim expression, but she didn’t have time to scold them.

She loudly ordered the gate to be locked, announcing that the master had lifted the restrictions on the princess.

As soon as the lock clicked shut, she hurriedly pushed the door open and entered the room.

Outside, the sun was blazing, but inside the room, the doors and windows were tightly shut, and the dim light did nothing to ease the sweltering heat.

The ice basin in the corner had long since melted, and the heat was still stifling.

The room was even hotter than outside.

Zhao Maomao frowned, suppressing her anger, and said, “Princess, the master has just lifted your house arrest.”

The room remained silent, no one answering her.

Zhao Maomao’s expression grew darker. She looked around the room.

On the large round table in the center, there was a set of blue porcelain tea utensils, the table cluttered, with a teacup that had fallen to the floor.

She approached to inspect and found that the teapot was empty.

Zhao Maomao’s heart skipped a beat.

She recalled that a few days ago, the princess had caused a stir, threatening to starve herself over a few bolts of cloth.

She had been confined for five days, and even Zhao Maomao was punished, locked up in the firewood room.

But during those five days, even Zhao Maomao had received food from a little maid, so the princess couldn’t have…

Feeling uneasy, Zhao Maomao rushed forward to check.

Behind a screen was a bed, with the curtains hanging low.

Through the light-colored gauze, she could faintly see someone lying on the bed.

She pulled back the curtain, meeting a pair of cold, ink-black eyes.

At that moment, Zhao Maomao felt as if her blood had frozen, and the suffocating heat around her disappeared, as if she were in an ice cellar.

Her body froze, and when she regained her senses, she looked closely and realized that in just five days, the person before her had lost a lot of weight.

Her round face had become much thinner, which made her phoenix-shaped eyes appear even longer and deeper.

When they locked eyes, Zhao Maomao almost mistook her for a stranger.

Especially the coldness in her eyes, which seemed to regard her not as a living person, but as an object.

Zhao Maomao was startled by her own thoughts, but then found it amusing.

This princess was clumsy and arrogant.

Seeing the master truly angry, she had been locked in this room for five days and couldn’t even ask for water.

Yet, she had managed to frighten her?

The princess had this expression—what new trick was she trying to pull?

Zhao Maomao couldn’t help but speak sharply, “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Wen Yue Sheng usually had a bad temper, and Zhao Maomao didn’t dare to act rashly around her.

But after being confined for five days, and nearly breaking her old bones, Zhao Maomao couldn’t hold back her resentment.

She spoke without thinking: “Princess, you’ve really gone too far this time. Miss Er is still your sister, yet you had to embarrass her in front of so many people.”

“Miss Er has always been weak. A small breeze could make her sick, but you forced her to kneel in the scorching sun for hours, causing her heart condition to flare up.

Not only did she lose face in front of the prince, but she was also severely punished.”

“The master originally planned to keep you under house arrest for half a year, but luckily, the madam is kind-hearted and begged the master to show mercy. Today is also the Qixi Festival, so you were released early.”

Zhao Maomao continued, her voice rising with frustration.

She didn’t even care about the condition of the person on the bed.

Unable to bear the stifling heat, she opened all the windows.

It was the peak of noon, the sun scorching the earth, and even the maids standing in the corridor were sweating profusely.

Yet, Wen Yuesheng, sitting on the bed, still had not a drop of sweat on her.

She lightly lifted her gaze, and she could see the lush trees and a bright, clear sky.

It was a beautiful sight, one not seen in the world she came from.

No one knew, inside and outside the room, that after five days, Wen Yuesheng had become a completely different person.

The original Wen Yuesheng had starved herself for three days, been locked up for five more, and, after several days with no one to care for her, on the seventh day, in her final moments of life, she crawled to the round table, hoping to lift the teapot and drink some water.

But the teapot was empty.

She had called out, but no one answered.

Before she fainted, she knocked over the teacup.

The teacup fell, its crisp sound breaking the silence in the courtyard.

Wen Yuesheng inherited all her memories, even more than she had known.

The original body came from a noble family, her birth mother being Princess Huiyi.

Sadly, after giving birth to her, the princess passed away not long afterward.

The Emperor, mindful of his elder sister and pitying the child for losing her mother so young, bestowed the title of “County Princess” upon Wen Yuesheng before her first birthday.

With such a beginning, she should have grown up cherished and adored.

But good fortune did not last.

Wen Yuesheng’s father was a man of great talent.

During his tenure as the Minister of Works, he achieved numerous accomplishments.

The Emperor, showing generosity, permitted him to remarry.

Not long after, Wen’s father brought in a new wife, and the following year, they had a daughter named Wen Yuruo.

From the moment Wen Yuruo was born, Wen Yuesheng no longer received even a shred of warmth from her father.

Worse, as Wen Yuruo grew up, her delicate health meant she was doted on and cared for wherever she went.

The Emperor, Wen Yuesheng’s uncle, doted on her.

The Empress, her aunt by marriage, pitied her.

Even Wen Yuesheng’s fiancé, the Yong’an Prince, who had been promised to her since birth, showered Wen Yuruo with affection.

As time went on, Wen Yuesheng began to lose her mind.

From food to clothing to all other aspects of life, she competed with Wen Yuruo for everything.

But she was naturally clumsy, and her lack of proper upbringing made her combative and always at odds with others—she fell short in every comparison.

Everyone loved Wen Yuruo, and the more it was so, the harder it became for Wen Yuesheng to control herself.

Her tantrums escalated to hunger strikes and public punishment of Wen Yuruo at social gatherings.

By then, she had become utterly isolated.

No one in the entire Princess’ Manor—or even the capital—liked her.

To those who met her, she evoked nothing but disgust.

Wen Yuesheng’s original self, even in death, was consumed by resentment, never understanding why things had turned out that way.

But Wen Yuesheng knew.

Because the world she inhabited was from a book, and she was not the protagonist.

The protagonist was none other than her younger sister, Wen Yuruo, the center of everyone’s love and admiration.

Wen Yuruo was the universal darling, while Wen Yuesheng was the malicious, loathed supporting character meant to highlight Wen Yuruo’s bright and charmed life.

Her existence had no purpose other than to emphasize Wen Yuruo’s smooth and joyous journey.

Even if Wen Yuruo did nothing at all, simply lying in place, there would still be people rushing forward to shower her with affection.

Affection Wen Yuesheng could only dream of her entire life.

Wen Yuesheng, always determined and prideful, learned this truth in her final moments.

She refused to live as a side character in someone else’s story, and so she became Wen Yuesheng.

Nearby, Granny Zhao(Zhao Maomao/Zhao Mama) was still rambling, clearly shaken by the punishment of being locked in the woodshed. “…Tonight, the manor is hosting a banquet. You mustn’t act willfully again. The master is still angry, and the Prince will be attending as well. If you persist in opposing the Second Miss, I fear—”

Before she could finish, someone brushed past her.

Granny Zhao, startled, quickly turned around.

The person who hadn’t had a sip of water or a morsel of food in five days had walked out of the room.

Under the blazing sun, her silhouette appeared frail.

In her right hand, which rested behind her back, she held a string of sandalwood prayer beads of unknown origin.

The glaring sunlight poured over her, and Wen Yuesheng squinted slightly, her gaze moving from the verdant distant mountains to the blooming flowers in the courtyard.

In her apocalyptic world of shifting weather, rampant viruses, and hordes of zombies, such scenes were rare indeed.

Just as she stepped out of the secluded courtyard, she saw a procession of servants carrying exquisitely decorated brocade boxes into the manor, their faces beaming with joy.

The line seemed endless, the spectacle grand, drawing lazy, idling servants to gather and whisper among themselves.

The dazzling array of gifts left onlookers dazzled.

“Which household sent such lavish gifts?”

“Today’s Qixi Festival. Judging by the direction, could it be a gift from the Prince to the Second Miss?”

Granny Zhao, who had followed Wen Yuesheng out, was momentarily stunned by the scene.

Instinctively, she doubted the gifts were for Wen Yuesheng.

Yet upon recognizing the man leading the group as the steward of the Prince’s household, she tentatively asked, “Steward Zhou, what are these?”

The steward, dressed in green robes, offered only a slight bow upon seeing Wen Yuesheng, his tone indifferent. “These are gifts from the Prince for the Second Miss.”

Silence fell.

Granny Zhao’s face stiffened. “The Second Miss?”

The steward’s voice grew heavier. “The Prince felt the Second Miss was wronged during the tea party. These trifles are merely a small token of compensation.”

Granny Zhao glanced at the fine gifts—antiques, calligraphy, embroidery worth fortunes.

To call them “trifles”?

Wen Yuesheng, despite her engagement to the Prince, had never received such generous gifts.

Though she wasn’t the original Wen Yuesheng, even she felt deeply humiliated.

Unable to resist, she glanced at Wen Yuesheng.

“Such a thoughtful gesture…” Granny Zhao murmured dryly.

The steward paid no heed to their expressions and merely nodded slightly. “I’ll take my leave.”

As a servant of the Prince’s household, his attitude toward Wen Yuesheng was not only distant but carried a subtle air of superiority.

Yet neither he, nor anyone accompanying him, nor even Granny Zhao found his behavior out of place.

Wen Yuesheng fingered the prayer beads, her gaze drifting not to him but to the flower-framed swing nearby.

The reason Wen Yuesheng insisted on living in this secluded courtyard was the swing.

When the Yong’an Prince first visited the manor, he had ordered this swing to be built.

He never said it was a gift for Wen Yuesheng.

The first person to sit on it was Wen Yuruo.

Thus, everyone naturally assumed Wen Yuruo was the rightful owner of the swing.

Wen Yuesheng, unwilling to yield, caused a scene that even reached the Emperor, eventually securing her move to the secluded courtyard to guard the swing.

Her father, feeling sorry for Wen Yuruo, went to great lengths to install a natural hot spring in her courtyard so she could tend to her flowers year-round.

A year after Wen Yuesheng claimed the swing, the Yong’an Prince visited again.

The very next day, an even grander swing was built in Wen Yuruo’s courtyard.

Years had passed, and though Wen Yuesheng still treasured the swing, its splendor had faded.

In contrast, the swing in Wen Yuruo’s courtyard, cared for by master craftsmen, remained as radiant as ever, though she barely used it twice a year.

As the steward turned to leave, a low, raspy voice rang out behind him.

“This swing,” Wen Yuesheng said, pointing at it. “Tear it down.”

The group that had just entered the area froze in their tracks.

Her voice, along with the steward’s reply, echoed clearly for all to hear.

The steward’s expression changed. He had expected trouble from Wen Yuesheng. “Tear… it down? County Princess, why—”

“Replace it with a Buddha statue.”

Her tone was flat and unwavering. “A golden one.”