Becoming a literary master starting from the story of Minglan

……

After the wax pellet was delivered, Mo Lan's heart was still in her throat, as if it were being tightly gripped by an invisible hand.

Because the most difficult part is what comes next – how to get out and meet Liang Han?
If we can't get out, all our previous plans, the adventure of revealing our seed, and the young lady's schemes will all be in vain!
Mo Lan's mind raced, and her gaze finally settled on her personal maid, Yun Zai.

Previously, Yun Zai had been flogged by Madam Wang for trying to break out of Linxi Pavilion to deliver a message, and was now being confined to a side room to recover. Mo Lan's gaze swept across the dimly lit cell, finally settling on a single thought: "Indeed, Yun Zai's figure and frame are most similar to mine; she is absolutely the perfect substitute!"

A cold, calculating glint flashed in her eyes.

Linxi Pavilion was once the most favored branch of the family by Sheng Hong, and Mo Lan quickly found another opportunity to summon Lu Zhong.

"Lu Zhong!" Mo Lan's voice was extremely low, but her gaze was like a steel needle that had been tempered, filled with undeniable madness and pressure, fixed on Lu Zhong's face. "Go and tell Yun Zai! On the fifteenth, before 11 PM, I'm going out!"

"Have her change into my best and most eye-catching moon-white embroidered orchid-patterned ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress), and style her hair in my usual flying fairy bun. Then have her sit with her back to the door on that embroidered stool under the window! As long as she doesn't move and holds on until I come back in the evening..."

She paused, her voice both seductive and icy cold: "In the future... I will surely grant you a bright future! Wealth, honor, and freedom from your social status will be within your grasp!"

Lu Zhong's heart nearly leaped out of his throat, and his back was instantly soaked with cold sweat.

Seeing the desperate, almost frenzied light in the girl's eyes, she knew there was no way out. She could only nod heavily and squeeze out, her throat dry, "Yes... girl."

She found a gap when the old woman was dozing off and snoring softly, and like a frightened rabbit, she suppressed her great fear and sneaked into the dark, damp side room, which was filled with the smell of medicine and mildew.

Yunzai was lying face down on the simple wooden bed, her buttocks burning with pain, and every breath she took was excruciating.

After hearing Lu Zhong recount Mo Lan's audacious plan and the final promise of "future prospects," her face turned deathly pale, her eyes filled with intense struggle and deep fear.

Impersonating a master? If exposed, the lightest punishment is being sold off, and the heaviest is being beaten to death!

The thought of the consequences sent chills down her spine.

However, the word "future" is like the only flickering candlelight in a dark abyss, weak yet deadly alluring, illuminating the only possible ladder for her humble, dust-like life to climb upwards.

Thinking of Lin Xiaoniang's past acts of charity and her tearful grievances, Yun Zai closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the fear had been replaced by a desperate, almost reckless ruthlessness: "Tell the young lady, this servant... this servant understands! I... I will not fail you!"

She endured the excruciating pain, struggled to sit up, and from the bottom of her only small bundle, pulled out the carefully folded, almost never-used moon-white ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress), clutched to her chest like a drowning person grasping at the last piece of driftwood, her knuckles turning white from gripping it so tightly.

Outside the window, a slender figure flashed by silently.

That silhouette...it even resembled Xiao Tao, the clever girl beside Minglan...

……

On the fifteenth, just as dawn was breaking, the pale sunlight sparsely filtered through the windowpanes.

Despite the excruciating pain from her tearing hip injury, Yun Zai slipped silently into the most secluded and smelliest outhouse near Linxi Pavilion before dawn when there were few people around.

She had already hidden away a set of old clothes that Mo Lan had worn before, which were now not very noticeable.

In this filthy, cramped, and suffocating little space, she huddled in a corner, holding her breath, her heart pounding like a drum, almost leaping out of her throat. Every minute and every second felt like torture.

Meanwhile, in her cell, Mo Lan moved with the swiftness of a cat. She removed her relatively clean silk outer garment and changed into a set of faded, coarse maid's clothes, patched in many dark places, that Lu Zhong had risked his life to bring in the previous night.

The rough fabric rubbed against her delicate skin, causing discomfort, but at this moment, the loose and ill-fitting clothes became her best disguise, completely submerging her slender figure in a coarse outline.

She loosened her carefully styled hair and, using only the most ordinary, unadorned wooden hairpin, hastily tied it into a low bun—the kind of tight, unattractive bun that the lowest-ranking maids often wore.

She didn't apply any makeup to her face. Instead, she used her fingertips to dab some cold ashes from the stove and applied a thin layer to her cheeks and neck. This instantly concealed the delicate pallor that belonged to a young lady from a noble family, adding a touch of weariness and exhaustion from wind and sun.

She carefully wrapped the last remaining small, faintly glowing gold bead and tucked it into a hidden pouch in her sleeve.

Just past noon, Mo Lan clutched her stomach, curled up in pain by the door, fine beads of cold sweat forming on her forehead, her body trembling slightly, her voice a broken, weak moan: "Mama Qian... Mama Qian... Help me..."

"...I...I have a terrible stomachache...it feels like my intestines are being twisted..." she gasped, as if she were about to faint. "It must be...it must be the leftover rice from last night that went bad...Please, Mother, have mercy...let Lu Zhong...help me to the outhouse...I...I really can't hold it in anymore..."

With trembling hands, she struggled to slip the small gold bead through the narrow crack in the door, her voice trembling with tears: "Otherwise... if I relieve myself inside... the smell... wouldn't that... wouldn't that make things even more difficult for you, Mama Qian... and offend your eyes..."

Today's guard is that short-sighted, greedy, and muddle-headed old woman.

She grabbed the heavy, golden bead, weighed it in her hand, and felt a surge of joy.

Then, standing on tiptoe, I peered through the crack in the window—and saw that "Fourth Sister" was ashen-faced, covered in cold sweat, and huddled by the door, looking as if she were in unbearable pain!

Old Lady Qian's greed and laziness instantly took over: it's just a rough maid helping her to the outhouse a few steps away, she'll be back in the blink of an eye, what big deal could happen? Even if the sky falls, there are tall people to hold it up!
"What bad luck! What a nuisance! Lazy donkeys are always wasting their time!" Granny Qian cursed as she pulled out her key, unlocked the door with a clatter, and only opened it a crack wide enough for one person to squeeze through. She impatiently urged, "Hurry up! Go and come back quickly! Don't dawdle!"

Having already prepared, Mo Lan suppressed her wildly beating heart and immediately gave Lu Zhong a wink.

Lu Zhong rushed forward. Mo Lan lowered her head, hunched her shoulders, clutched her stomach tightly with one hand, and placed the other on Lu Zhong's outstretched arm. She was practically hanging on Lu Zhong, her steps unsteady and weak, uttering suppressed, painful "ouch" sounds. Every step was incredibly difficult.

"Tch!" Granny Qian followed behind with her arms crossed, curling her lip in disdain, cursing inwardly, "They've fallen to this state, and they still think they're still some kind of noblewoman!"

"That idiot is a moron too, still fawning over her, hoping to turn things around?"

Mo Lan ignored him, focusing all her energy on disguise and getting on the road.

As she neared the secluded outhouse, she suddenly bent over, clutching her abdomen tightly with both hands, letting out a louder, tearful groan: "Aunt Qian... I... I really can't... I can't hold it in anymore... Please... please wait outside for a moment... I... I'll be done soon..."

Before she could finish speaking, she had already shot off like an arrow, abruptly shaking off Lu Zhong's hand and plunging headfirst into the latrine that reeked of a pungent odor.

Granny Qian spat out a mouthful of phlegm outside, turned her face away in disgust, leaned against the cold wall, and counted the ants crawling on the ground with boredom, hoping that this "bad luck" job would end soon.

Inside the outhouse, the light was so dim that you could barely see your own fingers, and the pungent smell was nauseating.

Mo Lan's heart pounded like a rapid war drumbeat, almost bursting out of her chest. She dared not delay for a moment, quickly exchanging places with Yun Zai, who had been waiting anxiously!
Their movements were as fast as a ghost.

Despite her hip injury, Yun Zai quickly took off her coarse cloth outer garment, took the moon-white ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress) that Mo Lan handed her, symbolizing her status as the "Fourth Miss," and hurriedly put it on.

She took a deep breath, trying to mimic Mo Lan's slightly reserved gait, lowered her head, pressed her hand tightly against her lower abdomen, and composed herself. (End of Chapter)