The oars dipped in and out of the water with a steady, crisp rhythm, slicing through the thin layer of ice that had only just cracked open. Mist clung low over the lake, a pale veil drifting and curling, and from within it a single boat slowly pushed its way into sight. After winding past hills and skirting along the embankments, it had crossed Xuanwu Lake and entered the canal that linked to the waterways of Jianye. By the time dawn crept in, the boat was already near the outskirts of the city—spring had just begun, ice had melted, warmth was returning, and the two daughters of the Rosewood family were finally about to reach their destination.

It was the fourteenth year of Yuanshuo.

The boat was wide but short, light and easy to steer. There was only one small cabin, and the boat was rowed by an elderly man and woman. Compared to the extravagant style fashionable these days, this vessel looked far more modest. Now that they were on Jianye’s waters, the old woman rowing finally relaxed a little; no bandits would dare cause trouble here. As she paddled, she quietly rose on her toes and peeked through the slatted cabin window—just to catch another glimpse of that fairy‑like young lady inside.

Dressed in pale moon‑white and watery blue, the young lady wore gauzy silks and a flowing skirt, the simple sash at her waist trailing to the floor, the embroidered hem blooming around her feet. Her hair was arranged high in a Lingxu style, dark and soft like drifting clouds. On her forehead, five tiny golden petals shimmered with delicate brilliance. A jade‑green bracelet wrapped around her slender wrist, bright as fresh bamboo after rain. She was kneeling on a long couch, her posture graceful, surrounded by books and small wooden boxes. Her cheeks held a faint rose tint, her phoenix eyes clear and cool… With her gaze turned toward the window, that soft melancholy on her face made her look like a flame orchid blooming under moonlight—lushly beautiful, yet serene.

The old woman was quietly awed. A beauty like this didn’t need to do anything; even sitting still, she dazzled.

The Rosewood family of Yuyang had fallen, yes—but with the eldest young lady looking and carrying herself like that, once she entered Jianye, it wouldn’t be strange if every young gentleman in the city tried to court her. Even with a child to look after, even going to rely on relatives, life surely wouldn’t treat her too harshly. Compared to poor folks like them, drifting through wind and rain, weren’t the orphaned daughters of the Rosewood family still blessed?

While the old woman silently admired her, the young lady—Linnea Rosewood—was taking her time sorting through the items on the low table with her maid, Lingxi. In the corner of the couch lay the nine‑year‑old girl, Yvonne Rosewood, her hair tied into two little bunches as she clutched a book and recited without conviction. Her round, bright eyes kept drifting over the top of the pages, spying on her sister to see what she was doing.

Linnea’s fingers, nails tinted a soft red, moved briskly across the abacus as she murmured, “Lord Marquis is stationed in Jiaozhou, and I’ve heard it’s dangerous there. I’ve prepared a peace charm; once we reach Jianye, someone will take it to him. These red silk shoes—I made them myself, light as clouds but sturdy—are for the old madam. And these ten boxes of rose cakes are for the aunts; when we were in Yuyang, Eldest Aunt liked these best. This calligraphy piece, from a famous master, is for Brother Yannick. As for the two cousins I’ve never met… I don’t know their preferences, so brushes and ink will have to do. And then the sachets… the books… the old paintings… and the lambskin coat…”

Lingxi worked quickly, arranging everything as her lady listed them. She moved fast; Linnea spoke slow. Having served her for years, Lingxi only needed to glance at her poised young mistress—whose beauty could rival moonlight—and listen to that soft, lilting voice that flowed like a yellow oriole’s song.

While mistress and maid discussed the gifts, Yvonne thumped her book against the couch and wailed, “Sister, I’m starving—”

Linnea did not even look up. “Let yourself be hungry. Read a little, and once you forget your stomach, it won’t trouble you so much.”

Yvonne puffed up her cheeks in protest, blowing the hair off her forehead. She was still a child, pretty and delicate, but lacking her sister’s breathtaking beauty. Her sister kept setting aside one fine gift after another for their relatives—it made her hungrier just listening. And there was nothing to eat… The little girl propped her chin on her palms and daydreamed aloud, “I wish we’d get to the Ashford estate sooner. Then there’ll be spring soup, roast suckling pig, pickled fish…”

Linnea rested one hand on the window frame, looking like she had stepped right out of a court lady’s painting. Her voice stayed gentle. “Yvonne, you mustn’t. The Ashford family is a great house in Jiangnan, with a reputation everyone respects. We may have fallen on hard times, but we are still of a noble lineage. We cannot embarrass the Rosewood name the moment we arrive. When the old madam invites you to dine, you must be composed—don’t pounce on the dishes like you haven’t eaten in eight lifetimes. If your aunts ask whether you’re hungry or tired, you must say no, no, not at all. If you eat like you’re hoarding for winter, or act greedy, I will deal with you later.”

“But I really am hungry—!” Yvonne cried.

Linnea ignored her now and went back to the abacus. The crisp clacking filled the cabin. Lingxi shot a sympathetic look toward the little girl, whose cheeks had grown noticeably thinner since they boarded the boat. Linnea kept herself dignified at all times—and she kept a close eye on her sister, too. The poor child had gone two days on nothing but vegetable broth, not a grain of rice. But it wasn’t that Linnea was harsh. Truth was… they were simply too poor.

While Lingxi was lost in thought, Linnea had already moved on to their remaining expenses. “We’ll be in Jianye in two days. After we give out these gifts, we’ll still have over two hundred taels. Once we disembark, we’ll pay the boat fare. Then, when we reach the Ashford estate, we should offer the old madam one hundred taels as compensation for taking us in. That leaves another hundred for rewarding the servants, attending gatherings… If we are careful, it should last half a year. In that time, if I can marry well, our troubles might finally ease.”

Her words were quiet, but they stung. Lingxi felt her heart tighten.

Linnea leaned her cheek into her hand, gazing out at the mountains rising beyond the water, her eyes dim with worry as she considered what awaited them in Jianye.

Beside her, Yvonne was still clamoring, “Sister, I’m hungry—”

“Hung‑ry—! Books don’t turn into gold! Books don’t turn into food—! I’m starving!”

Each cry dragged longer than the last, stacking one over another until they were so loud that Linnea Rosewood simply couldn’t keep pretending to be a quiet, gloomy beauty anymore.

She finally said, “...Fine. Ask the boatman to stop first. We’ll try fishing.”

Yvonne Rosewood let out a cheer on the spot, tossed her book aside, and rolled off the couch in one swift motion. She hurried Sister Lingxi to find her shoes and socks, then pattered out of the cabin, leaning over the bow, gulping as she stared wide‑eyed at the river. The boatman and his wife were terrified this delicate little girl would topple over and spent a long while coaxing her back. Only then did Linnea step out, holding a fishing rod, with Lingxi carrying a basket behind her.

Her long dress fluttered softly, and just by standing there, she looked stunning enough to make hearts skip. Such a slender beauty holding such a clumsy rod—the thing nearly dragged on the deck. The old boatwoman flinched and hurried over to stop her. “No, no, miss! Please sit, rest. Fishing’s too rough a chore—leave it to us—oh!”

Linnea smiled gently, her voice warm as she said it was nothing, then flicked her wrist. The rod swung outward in a clean arc, the line whipping through the air like a flash of pale light before snapping into the river with a crisp splash. Yvonne clapped excitedly, wholly confident her sister would succeed. Lingxi set the fish basket by Linnea’s feet, perfectly calm. The sudden snap of motion, however, startled both the old boatman and his wife.

This beauty looked fragile, but clearly wasn’t…

Even without bait, within half an hour she pulled up a tiny fish.

Yvonne groaned in disappointment. “Sister, catch more. That one won’t even feed us!”

Another half hour passed before Linnea caught a second fish. The old couple rowing the boat exchanged looks of admiration—this poised young lady standing at the bow, robes fluttering, holding a rod with such composure. Yvonne and Lingxi cheered her on. But luck seemed to run dry; Linnea’s wrist was sore, and she couldn’t get another bite. She brushed aside a few strands of wind‑tossed hair and sighed as she began to reel in the line.

“All right, that’s enough for—ah!”

The boat lurched sharply. After a loud thud, everyone staggered backward—everyone except Linnea, whose rod had suddenly been yanked down. The pull dragged her forward and nearly over the edge. Cries of “Careful, miss!” rang out, but Linnea toppled, hitting the deck hard. The line plunged downward, her skirt was snagged, and she clung to the boat rail with one hand, too afraid to let go.

Her whole body was pressed against the deck, legs weak, the line dragging her skirt toward the river. She let out a sharp, panicked shriek. “Quick—help me—!”

The rocking boat finally steadied, and everyone rushed to grab hold of her. Yvonne’s eyes filled with tears—if her sister fell in, she’d be left alone in the world. Lingxi’s face had gone pale as she wrapped her arms around Linnea’s waist and pulled with all her strength. With the two girls flustered, everyone could only rely on the old couple’s experience. The boatwoman gave a startled “Huh?” right before the boatman plunged his arm into the water. “Feels like… someone hit the boat,” he muttered.

The sky was dull and gray, their clothes damp with splashes. The women pulled Linnea back together, though her limbs were numb from the pressure and she trembled too hard to speak. The boatman tugged on the hooked line—and really did get hold of a person. With a shout, he drew everyone’s attention to the figure caught on the hook. Linnea, surrounded by anxious faces, barely caught sight of a limp form rising from beneath the water. Wide, soaked sleeves clung to the figure; cheap cotton robes were smeared with fish eggs and stray weeds; tangled black hair dripped everywhere as the person drifted up against the side of the boat.

A man, it seemed.

Dressed in rags. Clearly poor.

Saving some destitute, half‑drowned man… who knew what trouble that would bring?

Linnea immediately leaned forward to unhook the line. Everyone thought she meant to save him—until she grabbed his arm, braced herself against the rail, and shoved hard, trying to send him right back into the river. Her movements were firm, not gentle in the least. Yvonne’s horrified scream rang out. “Sister, don’t—!”

No one aboard knew yet that this soaked stranger was actually Lucian Ashford of the Jianye Ashford clan—the cousins of the Rosewood sisters.

Years later, when Lucian stood in high rank and recalled the moment he first met his future wife, he could only laugh coldly.

His lady was ruthless to the bone.

Truly unforgettable.