But deep down, I was not that kind of person.
I tried to protest. I refused to drink that milk custard that was supposedly meant to "make the skin fairer," only to be personally held in my grandmother's arms and coaxed with gentle words for a long time, until I finally surrendered under my father's teary-eyed gaze.
I also tried showing interest in Third Sister Su Xiao's wooden sword, stretching out my little hands and crying "ah, ah."
The result was that Mother Su Yan immediately darkened her face and ordered that no weapons were to appear in my courtyard—not even wooden sword toys.
"Yuzhi's body is delicate, and he is a boy. How can he touch such things?"
Mother's tone allowed no argument. "Just study and practice your writing, cultivate your character, and in the future be a refined gentleman—that is enough."
I was completely shut down.
Fine, I told myself—since I'm here, I might as well make the best of it. At least in this life I wouldn't have to pay a mortgage or breathe in dust at a construction site. I'd just take it as early retirement and be a delicate... freeload.
However, an accident when I was three months old shattered that self-deceiving calm.
That day the sunlight was beautiful. My wet nurse was holding me in the garden. Third Sister Su Xiao was practicing her sword not far away, every move powerful and full of energy. I was watching in fascination.
Suddenly, she spun and lunged, slipped under her feet, and the wooden sword flew out of her hand, shooting straight toward my face!
"Protect the young master!" the wet nurse screamed.
In a flash, a strange instinct seized me. I struggled with all my might—
"Pa!"
The wooden sword brushed past my cheek and flew on, smashing against a rockery and snapping into two.
The garden fell into deathly silence. The wet nurse collapsed in shock, and Su Xiao's little face turned pale.
My own heart was pounding like a drum. That split-second reaction speed was absolutely not something an ordinary baby should have. This body… perhaps it wasn't as weak as I had thought?
"What happened?!" Mother Su Yan rushed over, her voice cold and sharp.
After understanding what had occurred, she first carefully examined my face—only a slight redness where it had been grazed. Then she turned to Su Xiao, who was kneeling on the ground, her gaze severe.
"Daughter knows her fault! I will never practice my sword near my little brother again!" Su Xiao cried.
"Wrong!" Su Yan's voice grew even colder.
"Your mistake was in not mastering your art and being unable to control your sword. You are a daughter of the Su family; in the future you will protect the nation and the household. How can you stop eating just because you choked? But you must remember—your younger brother is different from you. His body is delicate and cannot endure even the slightest injury or fright."
Su Xiao nodded again and again.
Su Yan then swept her eyes over the wet nurse and the maids. "Everyone present today will have three months of their wages docked. If it happens again, you will be sold off directly."
Everyone was terrified into silence.
I was gathered into Mother's arms. She gently patted my back, her voice softening.
"Yuzhi, don't be afraid. It's all right now."
Her embrace was warm, carrying a faint scent of books and ink. But inside, I felt ice-cold.
At that moment, I understood with absolute clarity: in this world, I was loved—and also "set apart."
That difference came from gender, from deeply rooted rules. I was a precious piece of porcelain, meant to be locked in a brocade box and protected. My sisters, on the other hand, were weapons destined to be honed and bloodied.
That night, I lay awake, quietly thinking in the darkness.
Su Yuzhi. I would live on in this strange world under this name.
Should I submit to the rules, be a proper noble young master, and wait for my entire life to be arranged?
Or…
I thought of the wooden sword from the day, of that burst of instinct in that instant. This body might not be strong, but my soul was not weak. I carried knowledge from another world, and the mind and stubbornness of a twenty-four-year-old man.
Maybe, within the cracks of the rules, I could find my own path.
At the very least, I could not truly become a porcelain doll to be arranged at will.
From outside the window came the faint sound of the night watch.
I closed my eyes.
First, grow up. Grow up, see this world clearly, and then… make plans.
As for "being a wife and nursing children"… I silently curled my lips.