Chapter Four: Who Is Speaking

Wen Changning had no idea about the chaos between the two women; she was still in the Blackwind Stronghold’s warehouse, lost in thought. Before her lay piles of glittering silver, all stolen by the mountain bandits. She was calculating how to transport it all, intact, back home.

“What are you doing, Fifth Sister?”
A low, deep voice sounded, startling Wen Changning.
She turned slowly to see Qian Tong, the second-in-command of Blackwind Stronghold, standing behind her.

Though Qian Tong’s martial prowess was unimpressive, he was the brains behind the stronghold. The imperial army’s repeated failures to eradicate them were all thanks to him. Remove the strategist, and the bandits would become nothing more than mindless flies.

Thinking of this, the corner of Wen Changning’s lips lifted slightly. A scheme flashed through her mind, and she lowered her head to hide the murderous intent in her eyes.

She hadn’t even spoken when—

“Second Brother!”
Su Wan’er, half-dragged and half-carried by two minor bandits, burst in wailing. Her hair was disheveled, her lips dark, her whole body shrouded in an ominous grayish hue, wracked by violent coughs. Gone was the pure innocence of the “little white flower”—she looked like a consumptive ghost that had crawled out from a grave.

“Second Brother! Second Brother! You must help me!”
“Liu Meimei absorbed power and grew stronger, but plotted against me, causing me to lose all my martial arts!”
Su Wan’er collapsed at Qian Tong’s feet, her voice hoarse and ugly, tears streaming, but unable to hide the venom in her gaze.
“It was Liu Meimei! That wretch deliberately left me a poisoned vessel, just to kill me! Second Brother, you must avenge me!”

Qian Tong, with his scholarly appearance and silk robes, looked more like a wealthy gentleman than a bandit. Listening to Su Wan’er’s sobs, he did not even lift his eyelids, only a faint smile playing at his lips.

Yet Qian Tong paid no heed to Su Wan’er; instead, he stared incredulously at Wen Changning. “Fifth Sister, your power has increased?”

Fifth Sister’s martial skill was about equal to Su Wan’er’s, but she was headstrong and possessed the Cold Ice Needle, a powerful support weapon, often ambushing enemies from the shadows. In this, Fifth Sister was always more valuable than Su Wan’er. It was also because Fifth Sister opposed Su Wan’er becoming the sixth commander that this “little white flower” picked up by Fourth Brother never rose in rank.

But none of that mattered now. What mattered was that a support’s sudden increase in power would greatly benefit Blackwind Stronghold as a whole, especially with the territory battle in three days—the odds of victory had just improved.

“Hmph! Su Wan’er, you brought this on yourself. Didn’t I warn you not to covet what’s mine?”
Wen Changning, feigning Liu Meimei’s domineering manner, said, “I absorbed the pretty boy’s power and indeed made progress.”

“Excellent!”
Qian Tong’s smile grew broader.

Wen Changning continued her act, proud and aloof.

“Wan’er,”
Qian Tong spoke again, gentle as an elder brother, “What are you saying?”
He walked over to Su Wan’er, bent down, and gently patted her shoulder, seemingly kind.

“You and Fifth Sister are both dear to me. Sisters will quarrel, that’s normal.”
His hand on Su Wan’er’s shoulder appeared soft, but in truth, it contained a subtle, irresistible force!

“Thud!”
Already weakened, Su Wan’er was knocked flat, her body hitting the ground hard, mouth full of dust.

“Cough! Cough, cough!”
Su Wan’er, shocked and pained, coughed as if her heart would burst, icy despair flooding her chest.

She looked up, meeting Qian Tong’s smiling yet cold and merciless eyes. In an instant, she understood everything.

Her power gone, she was now a useless cripple. To the stronghold and to Qian Tong, she had no value left. Except for Fourth Brother, no one here would stand up for her.

Despair and venom overwhelmed her. She glared hatefully at Wen Changning, who looked down at her, indifferent, then at Qian Tong, feigning concern.

In the end, Su Wan’er bit her lip hard, blood seeping out, forcibly swallowing her curses and tears. She knew any more words would only bring further humiliation, or even death. She lowered her head, hiding her hatred.

Qian Tong seemed not to notice Su Wan’er’s plight, his face warm, eyes shifting to Wen Changning with just the right amount of concern:

“Fifth Sister, you must have been startled. Wan’er was careless and offended you—I apologize on her behalf.”
He paused, his smile deepening. “I heard you had quite the harvest today? Your power has increased? Wonderful! But with such sudden gains, is your body coping?”
“Second Brother worries for you, so I invited Doctor Gu to examine you, just to ensure you don’t suffer any hidden injuries.”

His words expressed concern, but his eyes gleamed with calculation and greedy anticipation. He was desperate to know just how much Wen Changning’s power had grown. Was this sudden strength a boon or a threat to his hold on Blackwind Stronghold?

Wen Changning sneered inwardly, but outwardly put on a tired yet proud face. “Thank you, Second Brother, for your care. I do feel... somewhat overwhelmed. It’s good to let Doctor Gu take a look.”

She deliberately rubbed her temples, appearing as if in need of recuperation after overindulgence.

---

“Very good, very good!”
Qian Tong’s face was all smiles, seemingly genuinely pleased for his sister. “Come, let’s go to your courtyard and let Doctor Gu examine you thoroughly!”

The party moved to Liu Meimei’s courtyard.

Upon entering, they saw Liu Meimei herself, bound tightly on the bed, still struggling futilely. When she saw Qian Tong enter, it was like seeing a lifeline! Her eyes blazed with hope.
Second Brother! Second Brother! He’s here!

She twisted frantically, throat emitting muffled cries, desperately trying to make herself heard. Her gaze was full of urgency, fear, and pleas for rescue.

Save me! Second Brother, save me! I am Liu Meimei! I am your Fifth Sister!
That wretch stole my face! Su Wan’er almost drained my blood!
Save me! Kill that imposter!

But to Qian Tong, the black-clad figure bound on the bed, clothes disheveled and eyes wild, was nothing more than a plaything Liu Meimei had exhausted and drained, a pitiful wretch on the brink of death.

With a frown, he barely spared her a glance before waving his hand dismissively at the bandits behind him, as if shooing away a fly. “What filth is this? Dirtying Fifth Sister’s room! Drag it out—far away! Don’t let it offend my eyes.”

“Yes, Second Commander!”

The two bandits immediately stepped forward, roughly lifting the still-struggling, despairing Liu Meimei, dragging her out like a dead dog.

Liu Meimei’s eyes nearly burst from rage.
Her hope turned instantly to utter despair and hatred.

Qian Tong! You blind fool!
Pretty boy!
Su Wan’er! I will haunt you all, even in death!

Her throat emitted hopeless cries as she was dragged across the floor, her struggles futile until she vanished beyond the door.

Her last sight: Wen Changning’s cold gaze, as if looking at trash, and Qian Tong’s false smile.

Soon, Doctor Gu, his goatee trembling, ingratiating smile plastered across his face, was ushered in.

He first bowed respectfully to Qian Tong and Wen Changning, then carefully took Wen Changning’s outstretched wrist.

Doctor Gu closed his eyes, fingers pressed to her pulse, affecting deep concentration.

Wen Changning secretly manipulated her inner strength, simulating a pulse both vigorous and abundant, yet slightly unsettled—exactly the condition of “sudden great power with unsteady foundation.”

After a moment, Doctor Gu suddenly opened his eyes, his face alight with exaggerated joy and sycophancy, his voice rising several pitches: “Congratulations, Fifth Commander! This pulse is powerful, surging like a river in flood! Your inner strength is astonishing—unprecedented! Compared to yesterday, it’s as different as heaven and earth! Fifth Commander must have received a tremendous opportunity, your power increasing by leaps and bounds!”

He bowed repeatedly to both Qian Tong and Wen Changning. “As for the slight agitation of your vitality, it’s only a minor issue from the sudden surge. Once I prescribe a few nourishing and stabilizing remedies, a few days’ rest, and you’ll fully master this power, your martial arts advancing even further!”

Qian Tong listened, his smile ever more genuine, but his eyes flickered with wariness and intent. He looked at Wen Changning with a new respect and a hint of recruiting intent.

“Hahaha! Wonderful! Fifth Sister is truly the lucky star of Blackwind Stronghold. This opportunity is a blessing for us all! Doctor Gu, use the finest herbs for her—whatever you need, take it from the storeroom!”

“Certainly, Second Commander! I will do my utmost!”

Wen Changning inwardly scoffed. “Thank you for your trouble, Second Brother, and Doctor Gu. I do feel a bit fatigued today.”

“Of course, of course!”
Qian Tong beamed. “Fifth Sister, rest well—your health is paramount. I’ll leave you to recuperate.”

…
…
The door of the western wing of the Wen family’s courtyard was always tightly shut.
Fresh white paper covered the window lattices, filtering the early summer sunlight into a soft glow that quietly spread across the gleaming brick floor.

The air was laced with the faint scent of soapberry, mingled with the aroma of ink from books, and a barely perceptible whiff of newly blended calming incense.

Wen Changkong, dressed in deep-colored robes, sat upright on an embroidered stool by the window, feeling deeply uneasy.

Last night, his sister had said she wanted to go out, asking him to disguise himself as her to fool their parents. He’d claimed he was off to study at the academy. There was no help for it—his sister had to be indulged.

She loved to play, but their parents forbade her from going out. Out of options, she had to rely on his status as a male.

Wen Changkong took a deep breath, fingers turning a silver needle as fine as a hair, threaded with pale lotus-colored silk.

Before him, a taut embroidery frame held a piece of soft white satin. Most of a pond’s worth of lotus leaves had already been stitched—shades of green interwoven, veins clear, stitches neat and even. It seemed that with a breeze, dewdrops would roll beneath the leaves, so exquisite one could hardly look away.

Qiuqiu crouched nearby on a small stool, holding an open “Female Commandments,” reading in a hushed, careful tone: “Serene and chaste, maintain discipline, act with shame, move and act with propriety—these are women’s virtues…”

Her voice was deliberately soft, cautious, as if afraid to disturb something. Every few lines, she glanced up at her mistress, eyes full of admiration.

Only a few days, and her mistress’s embroidery had advanced so far, better than even the master embroiderers at the workshop.

Wen Changkong lowered his gaze to the nearly finished lotus leaf on the frame.

---

His expression was so focused it was almost reverent.

Those slender, fair fingers, joints distinct, moved with light, fluid grace, as if fused with the tiny embroidery needle. Every motion was precise.

The silver needle glided through the satin, leaving fine, even stitches. The lotus-colored silk outlined the curled edges of the leaf, adding a lively touch.

Those hands, skilled in calligraphy and music, were naturally deft. Now, wielding the embroidery needle, they exuded a seamless elegance, bringing the scene within the frame to vivid life.

“Miss…”
Qiuqiu finished her passage and couldn’t help but whisper in admiration, “Your skill could put all the town’s embroidery masters to shame! These lotus leaves look real—so lifelike!”

Wen Changkong’s fingers paused.

“Hiss!”
The tiny silver needle pricked her fingertip unexpectedly, a bead of bright red blood appearing.

At that instant, her mind exploded.

Shouldn’t she be in the conference room?

The boss’s roar still echoed: “The proposal is due tomorrow—fail and you’re fired!”

The sticky feel of coffee spilled on the keyboard hadn’t faded.

How could she open her eyes and find herself somewhere else?

The white paper filtered soft light. She held not a pen, but a needle threaded with lotus-colored silk.

Lotus leaves on the embroidery frame appeared lifelike, yet she couldn’t even manage cross-stitch.

This was clearly not her handiwork!

“Miss, are you alright?”
Qiuqiu hurried over, clutching her book, ready to fetch a cloth. “Did you prick your finger? Let me get something for you!”

Wen Changkong stared stiffly at her. “What… did you call me?”

“Miss, Wen Changning, of course.”
Qiuqiu blinked. “You said this morning you’d disguise yourself as the young master and go to the academy—did you forget?”

Wen Changning?

Wen Changkong’s heart stopped.

Wasn’t this the “Loyal Lady General Wen Changning” she’d browsed last night?

The heroine was a patriot, a female general, doomed by a treacherous minister who starved her troops, cut off reinforcements, and left her to die on the battlefield, her body unclaimed…

Judging by the current plot—

Embroidery?

She hadn’t become the heroine, but the brother, Wen Changkong, a tool who died early!

Qiuqiu had just called her “Miss,” exactly as the original story described when no one knew the siblings’ secret exchange of identities.

In the story, brother and sister were identical in appearance and height—if they imitated each other, no one would notice the difference.

“Qiuqiu,”
She forced her voice steady, blood still rolling from her finger, “What year is it?”

“The thirteenth year of Kaiyuan, Great Yong, Miss.”
Qiuqiu wrapped her finger, her round eyes darting about, adorably attentive.

Kaiyuan year thirteen!

Wen Changkong’s brows drew tight.

In the original, Wen Changning went to suppress bandits this year, winning small victories early, her brilliance beginning to show. But it was also when grain prices soared, refugees multiplied…

She’d arrived just as the story began.

No military exam, no succession struggle.

She could build her power, prevent tragedy.

But what could she do? A corporate drone—good at PPTs and proposals, useless otherwise!

Infrastructure? Stockpiling grain? Dealing with ancient people? The thought gave her a headache.

“Where’s the system?”
She shouted inwardly. “Where’s my transmigration starter pack? Even a ‘Guide to Ancient Survival’ would do!”

Silence answered her.

Nothing.

Just as despair threatened, lines of colorful text floated in her mind.

[Damn! Brother’s plot again?]
[Hmm? Why does this brother seem off? That look in his eyes—not gentle at all.]
Wen Changkong froze. “Who’s talking? What’s wrong with the brother?”

[He can see us!]
Wen Changkong was bewildered: I transmigrated into the book, not the brother in the story.

[Don’t panic! The biggest pitfall in the original is the grain shortage! Prices just rose—start stockpiling!]

[Wen family’s backyard has two acres of vegetable plot! Don’t let it go to waste! Plant fast-growing crops, solve your family’s food first!]