It took Zhang Yue a long moment to grasp what had happened.
She had time-travelled.
The realization settled into her bones slowly, as she snuggled to the warm blanket, escaping from the cold after a long rain. What exactly happened? One moment she was at the ancestral temple, kneeling before the faded altar of Wu Qian Jun, murmuring prayers to the dead souls of her family and to her child. First, she woke up in a random forest, and now she is at her ancestral home.
But where was she? Is it real? Or is it just a fever dream?
If she had time travelled in real, then which timeline had fate thrown her into?
But why her grandpa looks the same but not her beloved uncle? If she is in a different timeline, then what happened to her in the original timeline? There were lots questions and they kept her awake throughout the night in her new life.
But the very next morning was different.
Wherever or whenever she got stranded, one thing burned clear in Zhang Yue's chest. Whatever happened last time, she wouldn't let it happen again. This time, she would change her fate. She would not make the same mistake.
That wretched night when her entire world shattered: her virginity, her career, her life, her parents, her child. Everything had slipped through her fingers like water. She would never let that happen again.
This is a new life for her. This Zhang Yue would never get into trouble that would cost her life.
The thought sent a ripple of determination through Zhang Yue as she pushed open the carved wooden door, stepping barefoot into the cold hallway. Her feet whispered against the polished floor, trying to find her bearings in this unfamiliar place.
But before she could get far, a voice called out behind her.
"Young Miss, where are you going?"
The voice belonged to a young maid, barely more than a girl. Her round eyes were wide, suspicious, and sharp as she hurried over, blocking Zhang Yue's path with surprising boldness.
"I," Zhang Yue fumbled for words, her mind scrambling for something believable. "It felt stuffy inside. I just needed some air."
The maid tilted her head, clearly unconvinced. "No, I don't believe you. Master gave me strict orders to watch over you , especially after what happened to you last night."
Zhang Yue blinked. Last night? Her memories were fragmented, like pages torn from a book, but before she could think, her lips moved on their own.
"I wasn't trying to run off. Actually, I was looking for you."
The maid frowned, her curiosity deepening. "For me? Why?"
"I needed some information," Zhang Yue answered carefully, watching the girl's reaction. "About this place."
The maid's suspicion softened just a little. "This place? But this is your home. Your mother's family. No one told you about them?"
Mother's family? Zhang Yue's thoughts stumbled for a moment. Am I not supposed to be Zhang? She shook her head.
"No... I don't think so."
The girl's mouth fell open, scandalized. "Oh my God. How could they raise you without telling you about your own family?"
Zhang Yue gave a strained, polite smile. "I'm still trying to figure that out myself."
The maid, now slightly more relaxed, lowered her voice as if she were sharing a piece of family gossip. "Apparently your father and mother had a terrible fight, and your mother tried to take you away to live with her family. But your father's family didn't let you go. You're part of the Zhang family, young miss , people were shocked that you stayed away for so long. After fighting for almost eight years, your grandfather finally brought you back home."
Zhang Yue absorbed every word, feeling like a stranger eavesdropping on her own life. Eight years? The timeline twisted in her head, trying to piece itself together.
She nodded slowly, then asked, "I see... And where's my mother now?"
The maid's voice dropped even lower. "She's long gone."
"Dead?" Zhang Yue asked, flatly, no flicker of emotion crossing her face.
The maid gasped, clutching her hands to her chest. "Oh my God! How can you say that so calmly?"
Zhang Yue looked away, her voice barely above a whisper. "How would I know?"
She let the silence settle for a moment before speaking again, her tone casual but her mind razor-sharp. "So, I don't have a mother and a father, I assume. And you're telling me I got into some terrible accident, which explains why I act differently , kind of mentally, right?"
"Young Miss, you are not mental," the maid said quickly, as if offended by the idea. "You just lost your memories."
Yes, a typical time-travelling trope, Zhang Yue mused silently.
"So, can I ask you what my name is?" she asked aloud. She tried her best bid to know about her father's family. Her paternal family from her previous timeline has become her maternal family. What if a tangled connection happened in the current paternal family's pedigree?
"You don't remember your own name?"
"Uffo, I know my name. I just want to know how it will change now that I'm living here."
"You'll become Zhang Yue. Before, you were Qing Yue."
"So, I am from the Qing family." Zhang Yue stopped for a moment and tried to recall whether she had ever come across any members from the Qing family or even heard about them. Definitely not.
"Yes."
Zhang Yue nodded, the weight of the name shifting inside her chest like an old coin. "And what about you? What's your name?"
"My name is Lianhua," the maid answered.
"So, tell me, Miss Lian, what are our plans for today?"
"Plans? You don't have any plans. Since you don't have any powers, you don't have to go to school or train your skills. You just need to…"
"Sit and relax?" Zhang Yue finished for her.
"Yes."
"Damn," Zhang Yue muttered under her breath. "I worked so hard to build everything from scratch and now I just need to sit and relax?" She was always a high achiever in her previous life. So, the term sitting idle has never been part of her life.
"Well, you can learn how to run a household." The maid suggested when she noticed the disappointment on her young miss's face.
"What?"
"I mean, you are at the age for marriage."
"I won't," Zhang Yue answered, sharp and sure. She didn't cross timelines to just get married and serve a man.
The words dropped like an iron anchor between them. The conversation was over.