Two days later...
Osmanthus Courtyard, Late Night
Ming'er returned with a thick, dust-covered ledger wrapped carefully in faded silk. The cover was worn, its corners softened by time, but the inked title still stood out clear and elegant:
"Dowry Register – Lu Family"
Shen Yuhan took it with both hands, her fingers brushing the surface with a strange reverence.
This was the first real piece of her mother she'd touched in this world.
She set it down gently, opened the cover, and began flipping through the pages. Each line catalogued the treasures once entrusted to Madam Lu when she married into the Shen family—fine silks, gold and jade jewelry, antique porcelain, heirloom hairpins, land deeds, private shares in merchants' caravans...
And among them, her eyes stopped at one simple entry:
"One phoenix hairpin, gold filigree, inlaid with rubies and southern sea pearls – artisan work, Hangzhou origin."
There was no extra mark, no secret code. Nothing to distinguish it from the dozens of other valuable items on the list.
Shen Yuhan's brow furrowed slightly. So this was it?
Just one exquisite ornament among many.
She leaned back in her seat, thinking deeply.
In the novel, it had been this phoenix hairpin—originally part of Madam Lu's dowry—that caused the first public scandal of Shen Yuhan's life. She'd been accused of stealing it from Shen Yulan. At the time, it was said the hairpin had been a gift from a powerful noble Shen Yulan saved—an act of kindness rewarded with wealth and favor.
But now that she had the dowry records in front of her, the truth was suddenly clear.
The hairpin wasn't some miraculous gift. It was hers to begin with.
And it was never meant for Shen Yulan.
Shen Yuhan's gaze sharpened.
She could now imagine the scenario.
When Madam Su took over the family accounts and dowry supervision, everything under Madam Lu's name was quietly locked away. Perhaps Madam Su hadn't paid close attention to each piece at first—after all, there were dozens of jewels, many similar in style.
It wasn't until a year later, during Shen Yulan's fourteenth birthday, when preparations were underway for the traditional Hairpin Ceremony, that Madam Su likely sifted through the dowry jewelry in search of something symbolic—something grand and befitting a coming-of-age gift.
Only then did she discover the phoenix hairpin.
Perhaps she'd intended it to be the centerpiece of the ceremony.
And perhaps it was then she noticed something... odd.
A slight weight. A subtle hollow clink when tapped. A design too precisely constructed to be purely ornamental.
And that's when it must've happened.
The secret was found.
In the novel, the timeline never made sense before. But now Shen Yuhan saw it all clearly—after the hairpin went missing, Shen Yulan's luck skyrocketed. She suddenly had silver to invest. She knew which merchants to trust, which lands to buy. By seventeen, she was being hailed as the youngest merchant prodigy in Meixi County.
It was never about good fortune or a noble's reward.
It was about that hidden compartment.
The compartment Shen Yuhan's mother must have designed—containing a coded message, a business map, or some kind of key to Madam Lu's hidden assets.
Shen Yuhan's expression turned calm. Cold. Her lips curled faintly at the corners.
"Funny, isn't it, Ming'er?" she said softly. "They praised her as a phoenix in life, but the moment she died, they clipped her wings and claimed her nest."
She tapped the ledger with a single finger.
"I'll reclaim everything they stole."
Candlelight Flickered in the silence.
The scent of old ink and aged paper still lingered in the air as Shen Yuhan leaned back, her slender fingers lightly brushing against the ledger.
Six months... too long.
She could wait until her fourteenth birthday. She could smile sweetly, behave impeccably, and when the time came, politely ask Madam Su for the phoenix hairpin in front of everyone—receive it in a grand ceremony, with hairpins and blessings and gifts. It would all appear so proper.
But that was the path of the girl who had once been trampled.
Not her.
Six months were more than enough for things to change—for secrets to be erased, for new lies to be crafted. Madam Su wasn't a fool. If she ever suspected that Shen Yuhan remembered the origin of that hairpin, she might simply "lose" it. Or worse—replace it.
No. She couldn't wait. She didn't have the luxury of patience.
Asking for the hairpin now, however, would be equally reckless. It would raise eyebrows. No matter how justified she was, it would be spun into something ugly—greed, disobedience, ambition. Especially under the scrutiny of Shen Zhirui, whose heart already tilted in Madam Su's favor.
Shen Yuhan lowered her gaze, watching the wavering shadow of the candle flame dance across the stone floor.
If I can't ask for it… I'll have to take it.
Stealing it—silently, without a ripple—was her only path.
But this was no longer her old body, trained from childhood in every form of stealth and weaponry. This one was delicate. Pampered. Soft like a silk petal folded into brocade.
She had already noticed the difference in her strength—her balance was off, her reflexes slow, and her muscles unused to tension. The core instincts of an assassin slept within her, yes, but this body... it needed time.
Time to be sharpened into a weapon again.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
First, she would nurse it. Shed the excess softness layer by layer, like carving jade. Then she would begin training again—quietly, in secret. No one could know. The Osmanthus Courtyard would become her hidden forge.
Ming'er entered just then, carefully carrying a tray of warm soup. She paused at the sight of Shen Yuhan's expression—cool, focused, far too calm for a young girl supposedly just recovering from shock.
"M-Miss... the kitchen said this will help strengthen your blood," Ming'er said softly, placing the bowl down.
Shen Yuhan didn't answer at first. She picked up the bowl, sipped once, and then glanced at Ming'er.
"Do you know how many guards are stationed outside the main treasury courtyard?" she asked casually.
Ming'er blinked, startled. "The—treasury? That's... usually guarded at night by two men. But there are inner servants too, coming in and out during the day. Miss, why do you ask—"
Shen Yuhan smiled faintly. "No reason. Just curious."
She set the bowl down. Her hands, still pale and thin, tightened briefly into a fist.
Six months? No. I'll give myself thirty days.
Thirty days to recover.
Thirty days to rebuild.
Thirty days to steal back her mother's wings.