"She truly seeks revenge for the smallest grievance." Xie Xun's face was cold as he urged Qiuxiang nervously, fearing that Fengyu might slip up in the palace. "Hurry and fix the beads."
Qiuxiang dared not dawdle. She quickly made her way to the side room, taking out the fallen beads for careful inspection. Fengyu was born in the hour of extreme yin; her soul was weak and required the Soul Suppressing Pearl to stabilize. Xie Xun, however, had a pure yang constitution, aligned with fire. For some inexplicable reason, Fengyu could only swap souls with him. As long as the Soul Suppressing Pearl was not on her person, her soul would inevitably switch with Xie Xun's.
Two years ago in Ningzhou, he had led the Northern Iron Cavalry in a right flank attack, sweeping through all opposition. At the peak of his triumph—just after slaying the Beiman general—he suddenly felt the sky spin and fell from his horse in a seizure. When he woke, he had somehow become Fengyu. The Feng Family had just moved to the Capital City with Feng Changlin. Barely through the city gate, Xie Xun suddenly swapped souls with Fengyu, utterly panicked. When servants tried to block his way, he kicked them over, causing a great commotion. Rumors of "Third Miss of Feng Family being rough, wild, and simple-minded" stemmed from that incident.
Upon swapping souls into Fengyu, he was desperate to return to the battlefield but found it impossible. Instead, he sunk into profound fear at the thought of being trapped forever as Fengyu, confined to women's quarters. He searched everywhere for a solution. Accidentally, when Qiuxiang repaired a coral bracelet for him to wear, his soul returned to the battlefield.
When he was back at the Ningzhou front line, he finally learned the extent of his injuries: falling from the horse, being shot in the back by an arrow, and having his left leg shattered by the hooves of Beiman cavalry. These left him with a lifelong limp, pain during overcast days, and an inability to endure Ningzhou's harsh winters. To this day, the identity of the archer who shot that arrow remains a mystery.
Mrs. Rong of Songhe Garden appeared at the Moon Gate requesting to meet Fengyu. Qiuxiang heard the commotion and rushed out. "Young Marquis, please… bear with it for now. Our young lady is very demure and courteous in public."
"Demure and courteous?" Xie Xun chuckled. That was clearly a black-hearted lotus.
Qiuxiang could hear the sarcasm in his voice and felt intensely awkward. By then, Mrs. Rong had already entered. The old matriarch and Lady Feng were inviting Fengyu to the main hall. Qiuxiang was sweating profusely as she rushed to finish repairing the bracelet but was forced to persuade Xie Xun to play along. He took a deep breath, grudgingly stood up, and strode forward—but accidentally stepped on the hem of "his" skirt, nearly falling. The maids gasped, turning to look at "her."
Chunlu looked puzzled yet remained silent, her gaze dropping to the tips of her shoes.
Xie Xun: "..."
Qiuxiang hurried over to support him, lowering her voice. "Young Marquis, girls… ought to walk more gracefully."
Xie Xun shook off Qiuxiang's hand, lifting the skirt and marching ahead. Though dressed as a noble maiden, he carried the aura of a general charging into battle. The hair ornaments on his head swung violently with every step. Mrs. Rong and the maids stared in disbelief—was this really the Third Miss of Feng Family? Had her personality changed drastically after being rejected from her engagement?
Xie Xun found the headpieces bothersome. He raised his hand to remove them, prompting Qiuxiang to shriek and rush toward him. "You mustn't, Miss, I beg you."
"Let go!" Xie Xun snapped coldly.
Qiuxiang clung to him desperately. "Lower your skirt! Walk slower! And don't take off your hair ornaments!"
Xie Xun took another deep breath, unwilling to argue further with the young maid. "Got it."
Inside the Feng Family's main hall, the matriarch, Feng Changlin and his wife, Feng Wan, and Feng Ling were all present. Feng Wan, the eldest sister, was eighteen years old and born in the same year as Feng Shu, though three months earlier. Feng Ling, the Fourth Miss, was a year younger than Fengyu. Having grown used to doing as he pleased, Xie Xun struggled to imitate Fengyu's delicate demeanor. He greeted them coldly and casually sat in the first empty seat on the left, embodying the attitude of a host. Qiuxiang's eyes widened in shock.
Young Marquis, *that* is Second Master's seat.
Awkward silence filled the hall for a moment. Fengyu and Xie Xun had swapped souls several times before; each time, Xie Xun's rebellious tendencies caused Fengyu to show signs of emotional instability. People took pity on Fengyu, who was frail and sickly from a young age. The Feng Family was willing to overlook minor inconsistencies. However, Feng Ling glanced sideways, clearly displeased—causing trouble yet still so arrogant. So that fragile display was just pretense after all.
"Yu'er, was it you who sent people to cause a commotion in front of the Jiang Family's doors?" Feng Changlin asked sharply.
"And if it was?"
"You were humiliated at your coming-of-age ceremony. The family will naturally seek justice for you. It's improper for a young lady to expose herself in public and act so recklessly—others will only say the Feng Family failed to raise its daughters well." Feng Changlin reprimanded her sternly.
Xie Xun replied, "I avenge my own grudges. No need for anyone else to meddle."
Qiuxiang was nearly frantic. Young Marquis—it is *you* who is now my mistress! Not yourself anymore! How dare you speak to the elders like that?
"Yu'er, mind your manners!" The matriarch intervened. Seeing Fengyu's weak health, she couldn't bear to be overly harsh. "You were gravely insulted during your ceremony. It's understandable that you are upset. Let that matter be settled now—don't stir up more trouble."
Feng Changqing and his wife had spent years away fighting battles. Feng Shu and Fengyu were both raised by the matriarch's hand.
"Mother, you're far too indulgent. Her actions have already embarrassed me among my peers—saying I'm timid and fear confronting matters directly, leaving a younger family member to deal with it. My dignity is utterly ruined!" Feng Changlin said angrily.
"Well, that's not entirely wrong." Xie Xun leaned back lazily, his tone casual yet mocking.
Feng Shu, engaged to the Marquis Zhenbei's heir Xie Zhang, was cherished by him for many years and dearly loved. While idling in the Capital City, Xie Xun had probed into the Feng Family's affairs. He observed that aside from Fengyu, most of the Feng siblings were remarkable. Feng Changqing was valorous and loyal, Feng Changlin politically adept with the Grand Master Feng's favor accelerating his rise. His weakness, however, lay in his rigid inflexibility.
"Fengyu, what did you just say?" Feng Changlin was known to command with absolute authority in the household.
Lady Feng frowned slightly, sensing that Fengyu was even more unruly than usual today. Feng Wan chuckled lightly and said, "Father, Third Sister has suffered grievances and feels indignant. It's understandable if she speaks slightly out of turn. Please don't take offense."
"She suffered grievances?" Feng Changlin pointed at Fengyu. "Her unruly actions have already stained her reputation in the Capital. Shu'er's marriage may be unaffected, but the disgrace she's caused the family—how do you think it'll impact yours and Ling'er's prospects? Her reputation is dragging down all the women of this household."
Feng Wan lowered her head in silent disappointment, while Feng Ling glared at Xie Xun in frustration.
Xie Xun slammed the table and stood abruptly, his gaze sharp like an unsheathed blade, radiating an intimidating aura. Raised as a favored child, he ruled with arrogance. Even the Marquis Zhenbei himself did not dare reprimand him carelessly. Feng Changlin, in his presence, would have to bow and pay his respects. Xie Xun had no intention of tolerating Feng Changlin's scolding. Yet for a moment, he forgot he was still in Fengyu's body. Out of habit, he struck the table as he stood—and immediately felt a sharp pain in his hand, leaving him stunned. Staring at his reddened palm, he forgot to snap back at Feng Changlin.
Just slamming the table hurts *this much?*
Still, no matter the pain, a commander forged in battle would never let it show. His aura must remain unyielding.
Qiuxiang bit her lip, suppressing a laugh but feeling sorry for her mistress's hands.
Chunlu tugged at her sleeve, signaling her to rein herself back in. Qiuxiang dared not overstep further.
"What do you want? Are you planning to defy your elders as well?" Feng Changlin attempted to maintain the upper hand. His heart was unsettled, though—how could Fengyu, raised in seclusion, command such an overwhelming presence?