Liang Lin followed Liang Di into her study.

The walls were adorned with classical paintings and delicate ornaments, weaving a rich artistic ambiance.

A thick plush carpet covered the floor—soft, springy, like stepping on clouds.

Liang Di pulled open the desk drawer and retrieved a scroll. Liang Lin leaned in curiously. The scroll was brand new, no ancient relic.

“You should understand,” Liang Di said. “On the surface, Donathew claims it’s temporary management. In truth, it’s a trial—he’s selecting House Langwendi’s heir.”

Liang Lin nodded.

Why Donathew kept Liang Lin? Liang Di hadn’t figured it out. But she was glad Grandfather hadn’t sent her away—less fun otherwise.

Unfurling the scroll revealed rows of densely packed text.

“These are the shops we manage.”

Beyond the tailor shop she’d converted and the new nail dye store, the rest were bleeding heavy losses. Donathew’s challenge was steep—Edwin got mostly profitable or mildly struggling shops.

Perfect. The deeper the loss, the sharper her talent would shine.

“Edwin’s no match for you,” Liang Lin blurted. “He’s clueless. Miranda acts all clever.”

“But you forgot—Miranda has Queen Doris backing her. Remember who gave you that potion?”

Liang Di reopened the drawer, lifted a pink crystal vial. “You really think Gar handed you this out of gentlemanly concern?”

Exactly.

Liang Lin froze.

No such coincidence. She’d missed it.

Damn. She’d been the blade in someone else’s scheme.

“If you’d killed me that day,” Liang Di continued, sliding the vial back, “Auston would’ve tossed you out instantly—blamed jealousy, murderous intent. You’d be rotting in imperial prison. So thank me: I crippled your enemy *and* kept you free.”

“Aren’t you going to call me ‘master’?”

The first part stirred a flicker of gratitude—until the last words hit. Liang Lin’s expression snapped from O_O to O_o.

“Huh?!”

“Cough, cough—seriously?! Are you a pervert obsessed with this?!” Flustered, she choked on her own outrage.

“Business first,” Liang Di said flatly. “Donathew assigned me to assist you. Refuse? Fine. I’ve zero stake in the inheritance. Peace is preferable. Handle it alone.”

Good grief. Total surrender.

Mid-bickering, Liang Lin’s gaze snagged on a booklet tucked beneath the pink vial.

Familiar…

Her protests softened. She bent slightly, eyes locked on it. Then—like spotting buried treasure—she hooked a corner and tugged it free.

“Hey, you—?!”

Too late. Liang Lin clutched it tight. Gilded letters gleamed: *Fairy Tales (Volume II)*.

If Siralili treasured her copy like a moon pearl, Liang Lin now held this like jade worth millions. The cover mirrored her sister’s—except the little girl was swapped for a boy.

“That’s *my* book! There are limits!” Liang Di reached to reclaim it.

Liang Lin stepped back, hugging it fiercely.

She didn’t answer. Only Siralili filled her mind.

After dying in battle and reborn as Liang Lin, she’d searched endlessly—only whispers of disappearance, possible death. Yet she refused to believe it. *She escaped.* She couldn’t bear her only kin gone.

If Sister knew her beloved little brother died so gruesomely… Liang Lin’s eyes stung just imagining it. For months, she’d hunted for clues, desperate to say: *I’m alive—just in another body.*

Nothing.

Countless fairy tale books existed—but Siralili’s was unique. A gift from her missing lover, who wrote it himself. She kept Volume I. He held Volume II.

Heart pounding, Liang Lin flipped the cover.

A slip of paper fluttered out, twirling lazily before landing. She snatched it up.

One glance—her eyes flooded.

*Fu, you’re so selfish. You only love me when you’re well and free. At the first hardship, or if leaving seems better—you abandon me first. You push me away first.*

Her sister’s handwriting. Unmistakable.

“It’s her! It’s *her*!”

Face flushed, tears glistening at the corners of a trembling smile, Liang Lin gripped the book in one hand and seized Liang Di’s wrist with the other.

Liang Di blinked rapidly. *I’m* the one robbed—why’s *she* crying?

“This… concerns you how?” she stammered. “A friend left it here. She’ll reclaim it. Don’t ruin it.”

Her eyes darted. Something off in her tone.

“A friend?”

“Is she a girl?” Liang Lin pressed, breathless.

“Yes.”

“Crimson hair? High ponytail? Tall, stunning—nearly man-height?”

“How… how do you know?!”

Thank goodness!

Stars sparkled in Liang Lin’s eyes. She leaned in, voice trembling with hope:

“When is she coming to get it?”