After Transmigrating into a Novel, I Turned on Easy Mode - Chapter 29

On New Year’s Eve, fireworks bloomed all across the capital, shattering the quiet night with joyous noise.

The General’s Manor joined in the revelry. Wu You lit a stick of incense, touched it to the fuse of a firework, then clapped her hands over her ears and bolted. With a whoosh, the firework shot into the sky and burst into dazzling light.

The red lanterns she and Wu Zhan had hung earlier now glowed warmly, casting the whole courtyard in color. The sight reminded her of her previous life.

Watching his daughter laugh and play, Wu Zhan too felt happy. For once, he could put aside border affairs and court intrigue, enjoying a moment of peace. A dangerous thought whispered—if only life could always be this way.

He shook his head. No, he’d be returning to the frontier soon. But for these seven short days, he would set everything aside and simply be a father.

So he joined her, setting off fireworks of his own. When their supply finally ran out, the two sat together in the courtyard, watching other households’ displays paint the sky.

Neither spoke at first. The silence grew awkward, so Wu You blurted, “Father, when will you be leaving this time?”

His face clouded. As she’d guessed, he couldn’t stay long. Seven days, and even those hard-won.

Busy man, Wu You thought ruefully. But it made sense—Daxin was prosperous on the surface, but wracked with troubles both inside and out. And beyond the borders lurked even greater threats.

Her heart tightened. The novel she’d landed in had been a tragedy: key figures dead, the survivors broken. Already she had derailed parts of the plot. The Hundred Flowers Banquet had changed. But what about Zhao Qingzi? Could she be saved? Wu You felt powerless. All she had was her knowledge of the “story,” and even that was shifting beneath her feet.

Wu Zhan noticed his daughter staring at the fireworks, brows knit, lips pressed tight. She seemed… older. Quieter. Once, she’d called him “stinky old man.” Now it was always “father.” Something weighed on her.

“What are you thinking about, so seriously?” he asked gently.

Wu You turned, caught his worried gaze, and sighed softly. She forced a smile. “Nothing.”

Of course it wasn’t true, but Wu Zhan let it slide. He tried to lighten the mood instead. “That Zhao Qingshu’s drinking capacity is pathetic. I let him sip once and he went down like a rock. If it were in the barracks, the men would laugh him out of camp, hah!”

The image made Wu You chuckle. “That’s not a fair comparison. Could your soldiers compose poetry and couplets like him?”

Wu Zhan pictured his rough, burly men reciting verses, swaying like scholars. He shuddered and laughed awkwardly. “Better not. But the noble scions sent to train in the army? They might manage.”

His thoughts circled back to Zhao Qingzi. Leaning forward, his voice conspiratorial, eyes gleaming with gossip: “So, Sanya… how did you fall for that Zhao girl? And how far have you gotten?”

Wu You almost burst out laughing at the sight—this battle-hardened face lit with pure nosiness. Instead, she struck back: “You always ask about me, that’s not fair. Tell me first—how did you meet my mother?”

He froze. The grin faded, replaced by a shadow of memory. “Your mother… she was a good woman.”

That was it. Wu You deflated. Clearly he didn’t want to talk about it. Curiosity burned stronger, though—especially since she’d realized she resembled her mother more than him. But for now, she swallowed the questions.

She turned back to the fireworks. The capital was tireless—the bursts kept coming, filling the night.

Wu Zhan, staring at the back of her head, sighed. “I heard you saved the Emperor at the Hundred Flowers Banquet. What did he say to you?”

“Nothing much. He asked what reward I wanted. I didn’t know, so I refused. He said if I think of something later, I can claim it anytime.”

Wu Zhan frowned. The Emperor clearly valued her too highly. If not for his own firm objections, His Majesty would already have dragged her into the army. Watching the fireworks burst above, Wu Zhan thought grimly: We’ll have to take this step by step.

Meanwhile, in Jinzhou City, the Mo family’s estate.

Mo Ziyi sat in her study, trying to read while her maid Jiang Hong dozed beside her, head bobbing. Amused, Mo Ziyi set her book aside, but the booming fireworks outside ruined her concentration. She pushed her chair back to return the book to its shelf. The noise jolted Jiang Hong awake, eyes wide with alarm.

Mo Ziyi felt guilty. “Go back to sleep. I disturbed you.”

But Jiang Hong rubbed her eyes. She was wide awake now. Besides, she’d been living far too comfortably of late. Tonight was New Year’s Eve. Tomorrow would be Spring Festival. Her thoughts strayed to Yu’er in the capital. Was she safe? Was that wretched Zhao Qingzi mistreating her?

Something warm draped over her shoulders. She looked down—it was a thin blanket. Up again—Mo Ziyi’s gentle smile. Jiang Hong’s heart twisted. He’s so kind, so soft… as if he has no temper at all. How can I, just a maid, deserve this treatment?

She pushed the blanket back, standing quickly. “Young Master, you should keep it. Nights are cold.”

Mo Ziyi shook her head. “It’s fine.” Then, seeing the girl alert, she smiled. “Sit. Talk with me.”

When Jiang Hong obeyed, Mo Ziyi asked, “You said you’re from Jiangdu. How did you end up in Jinzhou?”

Jiang Hong’s chest tightened. She was here for a mission, trapped by Zhao Qingzi’s control. If not for that, she and Yu’er would’ve fled the palace long ago. She forced a bitter smile. “I came to find my mother’s family. But they’re all gone.”

“Then let it be. Life here isn’t bad,” Mo Ziyi said softly.

Jiang Hong frowned. Strange. Why is he here, hiding in the study instead of celebrating with his family?

“Shouldn’t you be in the main hall with your parents tonight?”

Mo Ziyi stilled. Once, she had been. But now one sibling is gone forever, and the other… she couldn’t face it. Disguised as her brother day after day, copying his mannerisms, she sometimes wondered if she’d lost her real self altogether.

Maybe, deep down, she still hoped to wake up from this nightmare. To find her brother alive again.

Jiang Hong regretted asking. She knew the boy’s sister had died because of his father’s scheming. Of course his feelings were complicated. Perhaps he avoided the hall for that reason.

I’m too stupid, Jiang Hong scolded herself. Always poking at people’s scars. Her mind drifted to Yu’er again—gentle smile, soft warmth, untouched by the grime of her trade. She had to get her out, somehow. But with Zhao Qingzi’s leash tight around her neck, when?

“You’re thinking of someone,” Mo Ziyi said quietly. “I saw you smiling just now.”

Jiang Hong blinked. “Mm. Someone very important.”

“Lover? Or family?”

She hesitated. “…Benefactor.”

Mo Ziyi’s lips curved. Such a serious little maid, round-faced, her solemnity more endearing than intimidating.

“Well then. I’ll be going to the capital in the first month. You said you have friends there. Want to come?”

Jiang Hong’s eyes lit up. This was perfect—her mission and Yu’er, both within reach. She nodded quickly, afraid Mo Ziyi might retract the offer. Then she paused. “Didn’t you say March before?”

“My father wants me there sooner,” Mo Ziyi explained. “Seems urgent.”

Money, money, always money, Jiang Hong thought sourly. The man had already sent one daughter to her death in winter; now he was sending his son away before the New Year’s even passed.

Still, the roads were safer now—soldiers patrolling against bandits. And with her own lightness skills, she could whisk Mo Ziyi away if trouble struck. She’d just need an excuse afterward.

Thus, without Wu You knowing, the story edged forward again.

And in the capital, Zhao Qingzi unfolded a slip of paper from Jiang Hong. She read, then smiled faintly toward the window. As I thought. Things are getting interesting.