Chapter 47: The Rebirth of the Illegitimate Daughter, Part 7

“There’s no need to refuse so hastily, miss,” Liuling said, unperturbed as he put away the red slip, smiling gently. “I’m simply expressing my intentions. Let us spend some time together. If you don’t dislike me, then accept me.”

“But—” Muyin wanted to reject him outright, but Chunfen tugged hard at her sleeve, and the words died on her lips.

“I’ll take my leave for now, then. I hope we meet again,” Liuling said politely as he departed.

Once he was gone, Muyin turned to Chunfen. “Why did you pull me?”

“Miss, if you keep refusing like this, the master will simply pick anyone for you to marry. Who knows what kind of person he’ll choose? I think Young Marquis Liuling is quite suitable,” Chunfen said, sounding much like an old housekeeper.

“We’ll see. I’ll drag this out as long as possible,” Muyin replied, still determined to find a way back.

Chunfen sighed. She couldn’t understand why her mistress was so averse to marriage; after all, the heir to the Liuling family was considered the most eligible young man in the capital, admired by countless noble ladies.

In the days that followed, Muyin often encountered Liuling when she went out. He never pressed her, merely showing up to remind her of his presence, then leaving before he could annoy her. His sense of timing was impeccable, and he always brought her snacks she enjoyed.

He was different from the Liuling of two years ago. Perhaps it was the experience of battle and bloodshed, but where he once seemed a delicate youth, now at seventeen, he had matured, steady and composed, far more so than other boys who still looked childish. Compared to them, Liuling held a certain attraction for her; at least, she didn’t feel like she was courting an underage boy. Still, it was only a faint fondness—she knew it wasn’t love.

The Liu family had heard about the matter and stopped urging her, which brought Muyin relief. But after several months, Madam Zhang came to inquire about her intentions. Unlike the scholarly families, their clan was more than willing to ally with a military household, so they were quite satisfied with Liuling as a match.

Every venerable family, after all, had their own private soldiers; without military strength, none could survive the chaos of dynastic change. Even those so-called scholarly families were unlikely without their own hidden forces, otherwise how would they protect themselves?

Muyin could only brush off their questions, waiting for the male lead to marry, the female lead to be betrothed, and the wedding to approach. In that fleeting moment, she felt something within the world loosen, as if a thread had been untied. It was subtle, but she knew the forced effect of the Law of Marriage—raised to primary by the world’s rules—had begun to weaken. It hadn’t fully resolved, but as long as it wasn’t locked, it would eventually mend itself. If she failed her mission and the law remained bound, it would be over for her.

It seemed she had completed her task. As for the Fifth Prince ascending the throne, Muyin felt it had little to do with her mission. The male lead had married another; even if he became emperor, it wouldn’t matter. Was the story supposed to shift from revenge and exclusive favor to palace intrigue?

And now, faced with another forced marriage, she decided to submit her mission and leave. But the result was that her mission progress needed to reach at least eighty percent to be considered complete. She couldn’t return; she had to wait for natural death to detach safely, otherwise the world’s laws would detect and erase her.

Moreover, even if she left this world, she couldn’t return to her original world. The river of time was chaotic now, the laws of the worlds in disarray. If she tried, she might enter the wrong time period. That was unacceptable; if she ended up in her own timeline, two identical souls in one world would mean one would be erased, and whichever it was, the consequences would be dire.

In other words, even if she completed her mission, she had to wait for natural death in this world. Could she end her life herself? Of course not.

Those who commit suicide are punished; she wasn’t of this world, so if the heavenly laws found her, she’d be annihilated. Muyin could only respond with a wry smile, cursing those two who fought so recklessly in the river of time.

Since she had to spend her life here, Muyin began considering other matters, such as marriage. She truly didn’t want to marry, so she considered faking her death and leaving. After researching this world, she realized living alone would be very difficult.

How to fake her death? Simply leave? It was possible, but then what? Leaving the city was easy, but entering required a travel pass and proof of identity. Women had no identity documents, only household registration, and she had none. Was she supposed to forge them?

The trouble was, every city’s travel pass was different. The thought made her head ache, but marriage seemed even more troublesome. So she decided the former was better.

She started searching for document forgers, keeping her inquiries secret from the servants, especially Chunfen. But one day she was cornered.

“Why are you looking for such people?” Liuling asked.

“That’s none of your concern,” Muyin replied, wary.

“You want to leave? Why?” Liuling had only learned of her investigations from his subordinates, noting her secrecy and personal involvement; if not for a subordinate’s accidental discovery, he would never have known.

“It’s nothing,” Muyin shook her head.

“You’re trying to escape marriage, aren’t you? You don’t want to wed? Why?” Liuling was puzzled.

“I just don’t want to marry, what other reason could there be?” Muyin didn’t know how to explain her views to someone from this era.

“I want to know the reason,” Liuling said seriously.

Seeing his determined expression, Muyin decided to be honest. “What is your opinion on concubines, Liuling?”

“You mind that? But that’s how things are. Concubines are just playthings, nothing to fret over.” Liuling hadn’t expected Muyin to care about such matters. He himself had no concubines, but he did have chambermaids.

“Yes, and I happen to be the daughter of a plaything. Why would you even consider me?” Muyin sneered, thinking men were all the same.

“That’s not what I meant. You’re nothing like them,” Liuling frowned, feeling Muyin was being unreasonable. Concubines and their children were not the same—concubines were half-servants, their children were masters.

“I am different, but men treat concubines as playthings. Did those women agree? Do you think wives don’t mind?” Whatever affection Muyin had for him vanished.

“Weren’t they aware from the start?” Liuling was annoyed. He thought well of Muyin, but couldn’t tolerate her provocation.