Chapter 325

Qing has always been the type of person who feels much more at ease when dealing with adults.

In her mind, facing an elder feels more comfortable than dealing with someone at her level, and dealing with someone at her level is infinitely better than squaring off against a peer.

After all, when a senior takes the initiative and showers her with affection, it’s easy for her to open her heart and feel warm inside. What could be more comfortable than that?

But this time, she felt unusually weighed down.

Not easy at all…

One thing’s for sure: she’s definitely my biological mother.

But being in primitive, backward ancient Central Plains, it’s not like she can just chop off some of her hair, send it over, and voilà! In a few days—bam!—here’s your baby! No way, there’s no convenient “thirty seconds later” notification popping up here.

However, there’s a notification in my task log loud and clear saying, “Know your roots!” So she must indeed be the woman who gave birth to this body.

But what am I supposed to do with that?

What if there really is some kind of soul or something?

If only I knew what Princess Yeonsul was like when she was alive, I could at least make some kind of judgment.

If she was a filial daughter who worried about her mother even after passing away and would request me to act like her during her absence—it would only be right to comply for the sake of the deceased’s wishes.

But what if it’s the opposite?

What if that dog-like woman stole my body and tricked my mom not only of this body but emotionally too? I’d grind my teeth in frustration at such a character.

And honestly, Qing’s discomfort leans more toward the latter.

What if this “soul” thing actually succeeds?

I might have interfered, causing the real Princess Yeonsul to end up in some heavenly realm or underground paradise, or simply seeing the signals from that brain completely fade away on Earth.

So right from the start, acting all chummy feels very wrong and embarrassing.

Plus, what if I pretend to be a daughter?

What happens if the situation changes later?

What if the fake Princess Yeonsul in the imperial palace is actually the real deal, and somehow either got snagged from somewhere or just vanished on her own?

Then I’d be labeled a fraud and even a traitor to the Empress, wouldn’t I?

Qing typically bugs out in such situations.

Is escaping really that bad?

If you can’t do this or that, then it’s only reasonable to step back.

But where to escape in my own home?

So, she reluctantly dragged her increasingly heavy feet to the guest hall.

Right at the entrance, she spotted a man striking a formal stance, both hands tucked into opposing sleeves. Seeing a man inside the Divine Maiden Sect felt a bit odd, but judging from his confident demeanor, it seemed like the palace attendants treated both men and women equally.

Hmm. So if you castrate him, he can straddle both the Shaolin Temple and the Amifa?

Wow. Not envious at all. Nope. Totally not.

Qing had such rude thoughts while sizing up what-was-his-name, something like Chief Steward, eh, whatever.

Oblivious to her mental ramblings, Chief Steward Manri bowed deep, his neck straining, filled with respect and reverence.

He offered no words, just a warm, welcoming smile, indicating she should go inside.

So, Qing slipped off her shoes and lightly entered the guest hall.

Central Plains guest halls, despite their grandeur, share a similar structure: the largest room at the end of the hallway for distinguished guests, a room for their entourage on the right, and a few small rooms for servants on the left.

As she entered, two palace maids turned to face her at the opening sound of the door, their eyes round with shock, gems glimmering in their irises.

Was that emotion nostalgia? Delight? Whatever it was churned up inside Qing, making her feel even more embarrassed.

“Empress Mama, I am Seomun Qing, a disciple of the Divine Maiden Sect. I come to serve while you dwell with us, and I wish to pay my respects.”

– Is that so? Then we shall be seeing each other often from now on. Come in! Let’s have some tea.

“I’ll prepare the tea right away.”

– No, no! Am I to have my guest work while I treat her like a maid? I’ve brought my personal attendants to tend to me, so a disciple from the Divine Maiden Sect should feel free to come in.

“Yes.”

Finally, entering the esteemed guest room, she laid eyes on a noblewoman lounging on a wide chair draped with a red mat, propping her elbows on her folded knees, chin resting on her palms.

Considering that overwhelming maternal instinct from before, Qing thought she’d immediately rush over and start a ruckus, but much to her surprise, the woman barely reacted upon seeing Qing.

As she pondered that…

*Thud.* As soon as the maids closed the door behind them, the Empress shot forth like a missile.

Hmm. Should I indulge her a bit, maybe?

This felt like a moment for a tear-jerking mother-daughter reunion, so Qing prepared to embrace her with open arms.

“Gah!”

Qing gasped.

The Empress didn’t pull her into a hug, but rather, she manhandled Qing’s front, practically tearing her clothing apart, pushing away her chest covering and grabbing her with both hands.

“W-wait, Mama!”

“Phew. This is real, not a dream. Not a dream… not a dream…”

Fortunately, she didn’t seem like Tang Nan-ah with any sinister intentions, but she might want to confirm the double D-cups hidden beneath the garments.

After confirming with her eyes and feeling faint, she stumbled, leaving Qing no choice but to support her.

“My daughter. My flower pig.”

“Flower pig…?”

It turns out “flower pig” is the most affectionate yet cornball nickname anyone could think of in Central Plains slang.

It might originate from the habit of raising piglets with endless affection only to later devour them once they matured, though there’s no clear explanation of why it’s called that.

Maybe that explanation got burnt as an outdated custom under the new flag of this era.

Regardless, the Empress moved onto a new tactic, starting to grope Qing’s face.

She rubbed her cheeks, brushed off her bangs to reveal her bright forehead, and even ran her fingers along her perfectly shaped nose.

Qing was at a loss for how to respond to such a display of affection.

Whoa. This is seriously heavy! Like, no kidding.

Pale as a ghost, Qing’s face drained of color.

Her complexion was already quite transparent and delicate, thus it was a blessing she didn’t resemble a typical undernourished girl, because if the Empress had caught on, it would’ve been a serious heartbreak.

Now it was time to take a firm stand.

Should she act all lovey-dovey and respond as a daughter, or…

“Empress Mama, I deeply regret to say that I have no memories before falling ill. And right now, I am a disciple living outside the world of mortals. The Princess… she has already—”

Qing stumbled, her voice trailing.

Already what? Dead? Departed? Out of this world?

“How can you say such cruel things? No matter what others say, you are my daughter. Even if everyone else in the world says you aren’t, you are my daughter. The more I look at you, the more you’re clearly my daughter! Such is the case; memories can return, even if they never do, that doesn’t change the fact that I’m your mother.”

“But, Mama, you will undoubtedly face someone you find incredibly strange while I serve you in the future.”

“I recognized you the moment I laid eyes on your beautiful face. Strange? Not a chance. In times of hardship, just a glimpse of your lower lip quivering is enough for me to understand you’re Qing.”

That’s just a coincidence.

It’s a habit I had since before I set out, and it just so happens that the original owner of this body did the same thing, so what are the odds of that lining up?

Still, a princess is a princess, and Qing has her roots planted somewhere far different from life and values.

So Qing thought she would serve her closely, and if she did so, the Empress would eventually have no choice but to accept that she and the Princess are different people.

…At least, that was her thought.

Then why? What’s going on?

“Why are you so fidgety? Why are you just poking at the food? Don’t tell me you don’t like the fried vegetables I made just for you! Come on! Eat up without being shy!”

“Well, it is to my taste… but how?”

“How could a mother not know what her daughter likes to eat?”

And then she began listing dish names back to back.

What’s going on here?

Why do the Princess and I have the same taste in food?

But Qing quickly rationalized it.

She wasn’t fond of sweets back home, but she somehow couldn’t resist them now, right?

Apparently, they say taste is a matter of genes, so with this body changing, maybe my food preferences shifted too.

“If you say eat hearty…”

“Your body has already been robust since childhood! That bastard of a father should’ve told you to eat less, but look at this—you can’t eat what you want and instead look around, trying to gauge what to do. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“That’s not it! It’s just the proper way to eat that my master taught me…”

“The lady has her ways, sure, but watching you eat heartily brings me joy, so please don’t hold back.”

“Well, the way I eat might be a little… suggestive in appearance.”

“What’s inappropriate about how my daughter eats? Don’t shy away.”

With her going this far…

Thinking it over, the only way to polish up is to be a princess who gets to put on airs, right?

Qing already showed her true self, so why hold back?

So she adjusted her posture and started eating earnestly, which left the Empress with a dreamy expression, nearly brought to tears.

“See? It’s just the same! How could you say it’s not?”

Apparently, the Princess used to stuff her cheeks full, just like Qing is doing now.

And then?

“Okay, since you’ve eaten, you should lie down now! Come here!”

“Huh? Did Princess Yeonsul lie down after eating too?”

“Well, how else would she have grown so well? Our flower pig made a lot of palace maids tear their skirts while they indulged her. Everyone thought that eating and lying down would make them as plump as you!”

So, while serving the Empress Mama, Qing learned more and more about the woman known as Princess Yeonsul.

As it stands, they were the same person!

What was it with the Princess’s behavior shattering that of the bookish nerd? Was she really that bold and carefree, always bouncing around without a care?

And it turns out she also had a talent for music, whether it was a drum or a flute; she could remember a melody after just one listen and play it back smoothly.

Currently, what Qing pieced together was that the only difference was a single character.

And she came to a conclusion.

The Empress Mama isn’t in great shape.

Not just slightly off, but a lot.

Because if the troublesome habits she carried over from her hometown matched up with the Princess’s, how did that make any sense?

What kind of princess would casually scratch herself just because her underwear didn’t fit?

It seemed the Empress had relied solely on gut feelings to convince herself that this girl was her daughter, strung along by suspicion since the fake Princess Yeonsul came back.

She’d been growing more and more emaciated, trapped in disbelief, grieving in silence for over four years.

Unsaid suspicion had come down to paranoia, tagged as a mental illness back in Qing’s hometown.

So the Empress isn’t exactly all there…

And all the more, that made Qing nervous.

Wasn’t she essentially pretending to be someone in front of a woman who wasn’t herself?

For the real Princess Yeonsul’s sake, it felt like that was simply not right.

So, she resolved to keep her distance, clarify that the real Princess had vanished, leaving only the complete stranger Seomun Qing in her place.

That’s the firm decision Qing made.

And thus, a month and a half passed.

And inevitably, sincerity tends to come through eventually.

While it felt short, the daily closeness increased their shared time, creating an atmosphere ripe for genuine feelings to blossom.

So, what choice did she have?

At this point, acceptance seemed inevitable.

Thus, Qing’s defenses crumbled.

For someone starved for affection like her, the Empress’s love felt daunting and boundless, unable to escape the warmth that enveloped her.

“Ah.”

With Qing lying down, the Empress popped a grape straight into her mouth.

As Qing mumbled on, the Empress stroked her cheek and cradled her hand near Qing’s mouth.

One grape skin popped out from Qing’s lips, dropping into the Empress’s palm.

Anyone looking would think this was the height of sacrilege.

And this gesture of feeding someone like a mere maid really could’ve been anyone else’s mother besides the Empress.

What a scene of downright impropriety.

But it felt different. Mama wanted this.

Am I doing this just for my comfort? No way! This is all to make Mama happy—look how wide her smile is!

If making her feel at ease comes just at the cost of my own inconvenience, isn’t that a noble sacrifice?

Surely, the real Princess Yeonsul would understand this expression on her face.

From what she heard, before getting sick, she used to have a heart so kind and beautiful, earning love from everyone, even with her serious behavior causing her actions to seem flawed after becoming ill.

After falling ill, she had started acting out and it seemed her demeanor had dimmed, but her heart had remained kind.

Everyone felt sympathy for her back then, but…

Of course, it’s one thing to listen to a mother’s opinion.

So Qing figured that the real Princess would have to relate to this.

Meanwhile, for Qing, acting like a giggling four-year-old, especially being lavished by the most respected woman in the land, felt both uncomfortable and yet—yeah, just a wee bit cozy…

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