Chapter 1: Eldest Miss, the Son-in-Law Wants to Escape Again!

Chapter 1: The Young Mistress, the Young Master Still Wants to Escape!

The Wei Dynasty, the 21st year of Anhe, Shu Region.

Spring had arrived in all its glory, with skies as clear as polished jade.

In the courtyard of the Xiao family’s residence, a delicate, tinkling sound of counting drifted through the air.

“Twenty… twenty-one…”

“Fifty-two.”

“Fifty-three, fifty-four… one hundred.”

“My lord, you’ve copied the family regulations a hundred times, and it only took fifteen days.”

Chen Yi regarded the young mistress with the utmost respect, unaware that she had not yet noticed the missing pages. He restrained a smile and offered, “Shall we count again?”

“Indeed, indeed, I’m the best at counting. The young mistress has praised me before, and she even said I’ll help with the accounts in the future.”

Though such calculations were unlikely to be correct.

Chen Yi mused silently that, since she was counting so diligently, he would not disturb her further, standing quietly to one side.

He wore a long, blue robe, his features not particularly handsome, yet undeniably refined and scholarly. A certain effortless grace emanated from him, giving him a gentle, composed demeanor.

In contrast, the young mistress was dressed in a short-sleeved, Mandarin-collared tunic and a horse-faced skirt, her hair pinned high on either side of her head, making her owl-like face quite charming.

After observing her for a moment, perhaps fearing she might laugh at his presence while she counted so earnestly, Chen Yi walked to the window and gazed at the red lantern hanging nearby, its “Xi” character glowing softly.

Fifteen days prior.

He had traveled through time to this era, becoming a son-in-law to the Xiao family, yet still a runaway groom.

When he awoke, he was not in the pleasant spring garden of lotus blossoms, but in the Xiao family’s torture chamber.

In the chaos of his surroundings, he recalled only the cold, hostile faces of many people staring at him. Voices murmured in his ears—some shouting “Beat him with a rod!” others suggesting sending him back to the Chen family in Jiangnan, and one even proposing “drowning him in a pig trough.”

The latter suggestion was excessive; he had merely fled a marriage, with no tryst or elopement to his name.

It was only later, when he grew close to the young mistress, that he learned from her—the woman who would become his wife, Xiao Jinghong, the Xiao family’s second daughter—had declared:

“Since he has become my husband, all matters shall be under my command.”

Her voice was clear and pure, drowning out the clamor around her.

Thus, he was punished to copy the family regulations a thousand times and confined for a hundred days.

A thousand repetitions—sounds simple enough. The entire family code was a hundred characters long, so a thousand copies meant a hundred thousand characters. Typing them on a computer would take ten days, let alone writing them by hand with ink and brush.

Still, there would come a day when he finished.

Upon regaining his senses, Chen Yi recalled from memory that he was a renowned scholar of Jiangnan Prefecture, well-versed in the lute, chess, calligraphy, and painting, skilled in poetry, and praised by the late Master Yu of the Jinling Academy for his calligraphy.

His identity was so lofty that, had the young mistress not been so diligent in her counting, he might have been discovered as an imposter early on, and only managed to bluff his way through by feigning amnesia.

But Chen Yi knew this was merely a temporary reprieve.

The young mistress was simple-minded, and the others in the Xiao household were no fools.

Especially his wife—Xiao Jinghong, a fifteen-year-old who had taken up arms in place of her father, and at eighteen had slaughtered a band of barbarians, discarding their armor and helmets.

Had she discovered those grotesque characters, she would have had him executed immediately.

Fortunately, after over a fortnight of effort, his calligraphy had improved significantly—

Name: Chen Yi

Calligraphy: Slightly proficient (5/100)

Script: Wei Qing (familiar)

Luck: 0

[Daily Intelligence Report – Grade Yellow, Lower Quality: At noon, the Xiao family’s young mistress, Xiao Wan’er, discovered that the steward in charge of procurement had been embezzling funds, and promptly expelled him from the household. A small amount of luck was gained.]

Chen Yi glanced at the flickering screen, placed his hands behind his back, and tilted his head to gaze at the sky. He began counting downward:

“Ten, nine, eight…”

The young mistress seemed to hear his voice.

“Forty-three… eleven, ten, nine, eight… Oh, young master, don’t meddle! I’ve already miscounted!”

[Mechanism +1.]

[Evaluation: A person not yet arrived, a voice not yet heard, a scene not yet witnessed—mechanism descended without being seized. A slothful soul indeed.]

Ignoring the “slothful” assessment, Chen Yi skillfully added the mechanism points to his calligraphy score, then turned toward the young mistress, who had stuck out her lip in annoyance, and smiled, “Forgive me, I was merely hungry.”

Upon hearing “hungry,” her eyes brightened, and a faint blush colored her fair face:

“Young master, the palace kitchen prepared fried dough cakes and braised fish for noon…”

“Fish is delicious,” Chen Yi said, knowing she was tempted, his eyes twinkling mischievously, “Shall we ask her to bring some? Perhaps a bite?”

“Certainly.”

Fearing he might change his mind, the young mistress dropped the cloud-shaped paper and rushed out, reminding the guard at the door:

“Watch the young master, understand?”

“Yes, Miss Xiao.”

Chen Yi caught sight of the guard’s thick arms, sighed, and reclined in his chair, his gaze fixed on the crossbeam above the room.

His calligraphy was nearly complete, but he still needed to master the lute, chess, painting, and poetry.

Poetry was no problem—he had studied Tang, Song, Yuan, and Ming-Dynasty poets, so no one would fear him.

The others, however, remained a mystery. To avoid exposure, he would have to master them all.

After calculating, Chen Yi’s mind drifted to the memories of this body.

Chen Yi, given the name Qinzhou, was born in the year of Anhe, a son of the Chen family in Jiangnan Prefecture. His father, Chen Xuanji, was the current head of the family.

Though merely a collateral son, his early years had been unremarkable.

From childhood, he studied under a master in the family academy, devouring books since birth, later broadening his knowledge to master the lute, chess, calligraphy, and painting.

At thirteen, when the court army suppressed bandits in Guang and Yuan prefectures, he composed *The Youth’s Journey: Welcoming the Standard-Bearer*.

At fifteen, when his father was dispatched on an embassy to the Buddhist kingdom in the Western Regions, he wrote *Farewell to Jinling*, earning him acclaim in Jiangnan as “Loyal and filial, with poetic talents beyond compare.”

But from that point onward, his fortunes plummeted.

First, his mother fell ill and died. Then, his uncle, Chen Xuan, became governor of Beizhou, returning home rarely. All family affairs were managed by the senior matron, Cui Yu.

It was a hard two years.

Not only was he confined at home, forbidden from venturing out, but also barred from studying, with no paper or ink to write with. He missed the most crucial imperial examination.

He said he didn’t hold a grudge, but Chen Yi didn’t believe him.

Yet what could he do about it? Chen Xuánji wasn’t there, Chen Xuán wasn’t there either; his mother had passed away, and there was no one at home to help him.

He could only grit his teeth and endure, waiting.

In the end, his father didn’t wait for him; instead, he was the first to be arranged to enter the household of Lord Xiao of Ding Yuan as a son-in-law.

In truth, on the road from Jiangnan to Shuzhou, he had several times entertained thoughts of taking his own life.

But in order to have the chance in the future to avenge himself and kill Cui Yu, he chose to accept the arrangement to enter the Xiao family.

“Unfortunately, in the end, he was killed by someone.”

Chen Yi knew that on the day of the wedding, his former self had been manipulated by some strange and sinister means to escape the marriage, and that he had already died before being found by the Xiao family.

If it weren’t for Chen Yi coming here, the course of events would not have been so “calm” as it is now.

Perhaps the Chen family and the Xiao family would become enemies, or perhaps the Xiao family would be labeled as a “malevolent household,” making it hard for Xiao Jinghong to maintain a good reputation, and a “shrewd woman” might not escape it.

Thinking of these things, Chen Yi felt a surge of resentment in his chest: “What a miserable fate he had.”

He sat up slightly, dipped his wolf-hair brush in ink, and wrote:

“Song of Shuzhou: Entering the Xiao Household as a Son-in-Law”

The red waters of Mount Wu lie desolate, abandoned for over twenty years.

Nostalgically turning over the Xiao family’s tablet, entering Shu became a scattered birth.

A thousand sails pass by the side of the anchored boat, a million trees bloom before the diseased tree.

Today, hearing your song, a momentary cup of wine sustains the spirit.

After finishing, Chen Yi took the cedar paper, blew on the ink to dry it, glanced at it, and nodded satisfactorily.

It’s no wonder I’m capable, after all.

But Xiao Dan didn’t notice when she stepped behind Chen Yi, still holding a steaming bowl of beef.

Looking at the poem, then at him. Looking at the poem, then at him.

“My lord…”

“Huh?” Chen Yi turned his head.

Xiao Dan stared at him for a while, then, upon regaining her composure, quickly took the bowl of beef and ran away.

As she ran, she called out, “Oh no, the princess is in trouble, my lord still wants to escape!!”

New author, please collect, please vote for the monthly ticket, please follow the chapters, please invest.

New author, please collect, please vote for the monthly ticket, please follow the chapters, please invest.

(End of chapter)