Su Qingyao had only given a shoddy storybook a one-star review, griping that the vicious side consort should “stop hurting people and run off with the kids instead.” Then a bolt of lightning from a clear sky sent her straight into the book.
The good news: she had transmigrated as the side consort herself.
The bad news: back then, the original owner had disguised herself as a man to sneak into the Imperial College, thoroughly deceived Shen Jingyuan, the Chief Councilor's legitimate son, then made off with his jade pendant after one night together, carrying quadruplets along with her.
The even worse news: the System said she would be annihilated if she failed to complete the plot.
Penniless, with four starving children reduced to skin and bones, she had no choice but to throw herself into the capital and fight to survive. She made a home in a ruined temple, kneaded dough in a kitchen, covered her face with a handkerchief, and avoided the man who had held a grudge for four years at every turn.
But the moment she made a box of egg-yolk pastries, she was summoned to meet someone; when she took a detour home, a carriage just happened to stop at the mouth of the alley; when she lay awake late at night, a carriage with a lantern bearing the character “Shen” slowly passed by the temple.
She thought she had hidden herself well.
Little did she know that he had recognized her long ago, watching coldly and making things difficult for her behind the scenes, just waiting for her to walk into his trap.
Once the old scores were settled, she and the children were forcibly carried back to the estate. The contract was clear: work as his personal maid for three years to repay the debt, and if she dared to run, he would report her to the authorities.
From then on, the Chief Councilor's estate was thrown into chaos:
The eldest guarded his mother with his life, cursing “Bad man!” at the drop of a hat; the second was always plotting to climb over the wall; the third had mapped out the entire estate; and the youngest told everyone, “This place smells like Daddy.”
The icy-cold Vice Minister ordered her to help him change and grind his ink by day, but at night he waited by the wall to catch her: “You never managed to get over the wall of my estate back then, either, did you?”
