Chapter 13
Chapter 13: Capital City Nobility (1)
Jianping Year Three, Third Month, Day Two.
The day the spring exam list would be posted was drawing near.
Jiang Chao Sheng had already spoken to their parents. Today, he would take Jiang Jiang into Inner City, since Day Four was when the results were announced.
“Eat more,” Mu Wan Ling said at breakfast, placing another piece of meat into Jiang Jiang’s bowl. Her eyes held hesitation. “Jiang Jiang… do you really have to go into Inner City with your brother? Your body…”
“Mother, I’m much better these days,” Jiang Jiang said brightly. “And the Peaceguard Clinic in Inner City has new herbs. I can buy some medicine and bring it back.”
She smiled as she spoke—and even raised an arm, proudly showing off her “strength.”
Mu Wan Ling only shook her head, but didn’t argue further.
Jiang Ping set down his bowl and spoke instead. “Chao Sheng, the capital has been crowded lately. Take good care of your sister, understand?”
“Don’t worry, Father. I’ll watch her,” Jiang Chao Sheng said, nodding firmly.
Besides, these next two days were being funded by his little rich sister. Of course he’d treat her like treasure.
Before they left, Jiang Jiang packed a bulging bundle with water and snacks, and—most importantly—her entire savings.
Take a risk and turn a bicycle into a motorcycle.
Small investment. Big return.
Whether she got her money back depended on whether that assassin brother delivered.
With heroic ambition blazing, Jiang Jiang followed behind her brother and strode out of the Jiang family’s front gate.
“Chao Sheng! Jiang Jiang! Heading out so early?” a neighbor called.
“Little Jiang Jiang looks so much healthier today!”
“Chao Sheng, isn’t the list almost out? Uncle here is waiting to drink at your celebration feast!”
From Willow Spring Lane all the way out, the neighbors were warm and loud.
Jiang Jiang kept a polite smile. Jiang Chao Sheng looked humble and well-mannered.
Because today he was Scholar Jiang, not Martial Artist Jiang.
Watching him in his scholar robe—tall, broad-shouldered—Jiang Jiang couldn’t help thinking: clothes really did make the man. In the modern world, that height and build would be male-model material. The kind rich older sisters adored.
“Why are you staring at me?” Jiang Chao Sheng asked, lowering his head.
“N-nothing,” Jiang Jiang said quickly, staring straight ahead and clutching her bundle like it was her last line of defense.
From Willow Spring Lane to the Inner City gate took a bit over an hour on foot. Worried Jiang Jiang couldn’t handle the walk, Jiang Chao Sheng hired a donkey cart.
The little donkey brayed nonstop, and the cart rattled over the road, but Jiang Jiang didn’t feel uncomfortable at all.
She was too excited.
This was her first time entering the capital since transmigrating.
The original owner’s memories were one thing. Seeing it with her own eyes was another.
“The road into the capital is pretty wide… Look, merchant caravans from beyond the borders!”
“And so many scholars on the road. I wonder if there’s a Ning Cai Chen in here somewhere?”
The sight of scholars in robes and caps, book baskets on their backs, made her think of A Chinese Ghost Story.
“Ning Cai Chen?” Jiang Chao Sheng asked, suddenly curious. “Who is he? What exam candidate is he, and from where? Is he famous?”
“Uh… what Chen?” Jiang Jiang turned her face away and played dumb. “Did I say something?”
Inside, she warned herself to be careful. Around family, it was fine. But if she let modern references slip in front of outsiders and the heroine caught on, it could expose her identity as someone who’d transmigrated into the story.
Even if Chu Yun Yue was upright and kind… Jiang Jiang still didn’t want anyone knowing her secret.
Even in her diary, she never wrote a single line about where she came from.
At the Inner City gate, the capital was a flood of people.
Normally there were already plenty entering and leaving, but with the spring exam list about to be posted, the number of scholars and students was many times higher than usual.
Jiang Chao Sheng helped Jiang Jiang down from the donkey cart. They took out their identity papers and queued properly.
Once they entered Inner City, Jiang Jiang was swallowed by noise and movement—crowds, shops, calls, scents, color. Prosperity hit her like a slap.
Seeing her eyes dart everywhere, Jiang Chao Sheng slowed his pace and kept close.
In his memory, his sister had always been frail and sickly, rarely leaving home. In past winters, forget coming to the capital—she could barely manage outside the front gate.
This year… she seemed healthier. Livelier.
And definitely chattier.
He glanced at her, warmth softening his gaze.
She was his only sister. Whatever happened, he would spoil her.
“There,” Jiang Chao Sheng said, spotting a vendor. “Candied hawthorn. Jiang Jiang, do you want some?”
“Yes!” Jiang Jiang nodded like a pecking chick.
But a moment later, she stared at the stick in her hand with a frown. “Th-this is candied hawthorn?”
In her memory, candied hawthorn meant big hawthorn berries wrapped in a clear, crunchy sugar shell—sweet, sharp, and crisp.
These berries were big and red, sour with a hint of sweetness… but the coating—
Was that really sugar?
Then it hit her.
This was an ancient world. No white sugar. No rock sugar.
She usually ate light meals and didn’t touch many sweets, so she hadn’t noticed the difference until now.
“Here, you can have it,” she said, reaching to hand it to Jiang Chao Sheng.
And then—
A frantic thunder of hooves slammed down behind them.
“Move!”
“Get out of the way for this young master!”
A flashy man on a fine horse charged down the street, scattering people like leaves. Panic burst like sparks—vendors yelled, pedestrians stumbled, someone screamed.
“Riding a horse through the streets of the capital?” Jiang Chao Sheng’s brows knit. He pulled Jiang Jiang back on instinct.
Then someone cried, “That child!”
Jiang Jiang saw it too. Not far ahead, a small child was happily eating candied hawthorn, utterly unaware of the danger.
The rider clearly saw the child.
He didn’t slow.
Instead, he snapped his whip up, face twisted in anger, and barked, “Get lost!”
The whip cracked down.
People shrieked.
Some shut their eyes.
But the whip never struck the child.
A large hand clamped onto it mid-swing.
“Whoa!” The horse skidded, hooves scraping, and stopped.
In the middle of the street, Jiang Chao Sheng—still in his scholar robe—had scooped the child into one arm. With the other, he gripped the whip so hard his knuckles went white.
The horse dragged him several steps before it fully halted.
Blood dripped from Jiang Chao Sheng’s palm, dark and steady.