Transmigrated into a Historical GL Novel as the Scumbag Heroine - Chapter 17

In the study, though a brazier burned in the corner, a chill still lingered in the air—it was warmer than outside, but not by much.

Cheng Yu held a hand warmer in her hands. Seeing Qiu Luo puff warm air onto her own hands, she instructed the maid to fetch another warmer before taking out a stack of property deeds. Her voice was calm and steady:

“You came at the right time. I’ve already secured the shopfronts. Can we open before the end of the year?”

The shops she was planning weren’t grand restaurants like the ones run by the Cheng family, but rather small eateries—more humble, but plentiful.

In her years of business experience, Cheng Yu had learned one thing: if you want to make a fast impact, repetition and visibility are key. It’s a kind of familiarity effect—if everyone sees the “Qiu Family Eatery” bright and bustling on every street corner, the name sticks. Eventually, it becomes the default choice for many.

Of course, none of it would matter without good food and drink. Familiarity alone couldn’t keep customers coming back.

“No problem,” Qiu Luo replied. “The watermelons will ripen in about a month, just in time for mid-twelfth lunar month. These shop locations are great, but if it’s all eateries, it might feel repetitive. We can mix in some fruit stores and drink shops too.”

She’d come to town today for this exact discussion. Pulling out a set of drawings she’d made, she laid them on the table.

Drink shops?

Cheng Yu looked slightly puzzled, then leaned in as Qiu Luo began explaining the diagrams—a manually operated juicer, pressing watermelon into juice, blending it with milk…

It sounded intriguing, though she wasn’t sure how it would taste.

But her attention quickly shifted. The diagrams were detailed, but… there wasn’t a single word. Not one. Qiu Luo had once claimed her hand was injured. Later, she said she wasn’t good at drafting contracts.

Yet now, these drawings were so meticulous—it was clear her hand was fine.

And several steps on the diagram could’ve been explained clearly with a few simple annotations, but Qiu Luo insisted on explaining everything out loud, as if deciphering some ancient text.

By the time she’d finished her lengthy explanation, Qiu Luo’s throat was parched.

Cheng Yu rose and poured her a cup of warm tea. “Here. For your throat.”

“Thanks.” Qiu Luo’s eyes sparkled as she looked at her. The female lead is truly something—thoughtful and attentive to every detail. Just thirsty, and she’s already pouring tea. It feels… really nice.

But that feeling didn’t last long.

Cheng Yu smiled faintly. “It might be better if you jot down the steps. It’ll be easier for the kitchen masters to follow—surely you don’t intend to come and explain it all again in person?”

Qiu Luo stiffened. “Didn’t I tell you? Just instruct them yourself. It’s cold coming all the way into town, not to mention the silver it costs… and dealing with your mother…”

She really didn’t want to make this trip often.

Cheng Yu’s smile deepened. “I don’t have a perfect memory. I only remember about seventy to eighty percent of what you just said. Better write it down so there’s no mistake.”

She’s definitely testing me. But why?

Could it be… she’s suspicious of my handwriting?

Is it because my handwriting is ugly? Probably not. The county magistrate Lu was known for his love of fine calligraphy. He personally reviewed all the scholarly candidates and rejected any with poor penmanship.

As Lu said, “Calligraphy reflects one’s character. If you can’t write well, how can you pursue learning?”

A biased opinion, to be sure, but when you’re the county magistrate, your bias becomes the standard.

Which meant Qiu Luo’s handwriting had to be at least decent.

Then what was she hiding?

Why did she repeatedly avoid writing anything?

Qiu Luo took a deep breath. And to think I was just admiring how detail-oriented the female lead is. Now I’ve walked right into a trap. She glanced at Cheng Yu’s curious eyes and reluctantly picked up the brush.

She scribbled a few key steps on the paper.

“Is this alright?”

Cheng Yu nodded, her gaze lingering on the characters. “It’s freezing outside. If there’s nothing else, you should head back early.”

Qiu Luo, suspecting nothing, left by carriage with Uncle Er Zhu.

Back in the study, Cheng Yu stared at the writing on the page. The characters were neat, even pretty, but they were empty. The ink was uneven, the brushwork lacked strength.

Everyone had their own calligraphic habits, especially in the way their brush landed.

But Qiu Luo’s writing showed none of that. It looked like a child’s first attempts at calligraphy—she had only copied the shape, not the essence.

It felt like… someone imitating another’s handwriting. A hollow imitation, devoid of soul or technique.

Cheng Yu’s eyes narrowed. A strange, unsettling suspicion took root.

She summoned her maid. “Xiao Miao, go to County School and find Master Wang.”

After the Mid-Autumn Festival, she had already sent someone to inquire about Qiu Luo.

She had been admitted as a student scholar at fourteen and studied under Master Wang at the county school. Though not especially gifted, she was known to be hardworking, withdrawn, and vindictive. Petty, some said.

There were few kind words about her.

But through recent interactions, Cheng Yu had come to doubt those accounts.

Qiu Luo was measured, courteous, humble, and kind to others—completely at odds with the rumors.

Now, paired with the odd handwriting, a wild theory began to form in Cheng Yu’s mind.

Xiao Miao soon returned, hugging a stack of books.

“Miss, these are all exam papers and notes written by Qiu Luo.”

Cheng Yu opened one, scanned a few pages, then pressed it closed.

Her brows furrowed. She looked at her maid. “Go back. Take as much silver as needed. I want every scrap of Qiu Luo’s handwriting that exists—anything with even one or two words.”

Xiao Miao’s expression turned complicated. She’d read plenty of romance tales where lovestruck girls pined over writing samples, but she’d never seen her lady this… obsessed.

She must be head over heels.

If Miss Cheng likes Qiu Luo’s writing that much, why not just ask her to write more? Why go hoarding everything like a madwoman?

Cheng Yu didn’t explain. She even let her maid believe the wrong idea.

So, within just two days, word spread like wildfire: The esteemed Miss Cheng Yu of the Cheng family is madly in love with Qiu Luo.

________________________________________

In Qiu Village, Qiu Luo stared at the sudden visitor standing in her doorway. She perked up and smiled.

“Qiu Shuang! What brings you here? Come in!”

This was the original host’s best friend. She couldn’t risk being exposed.

Qiu Shuang plopped a stack of books onto the table and rolled her eyes.

“I brought every book you’ve written in. Word is your fiancée has a raging possessive streak. She’s spending silver by the thousands to collect anything with your handwriting. So… how much do these fetch?”

It was a teasing remark, said half in jest—yet it left Qiu Luo frozen in place.

What is going on!?

She’s collecting my handwriting? Could it be because of what I wrote on that blueprint a few days ago?!

Oh no. She must’ve noticed it doesn’t match the original Qiu Luo’s handwriting!

She panicked internally. Cheng Yu! You’re smart, you’re sharp, I get it—but why are you scrutinizing me, a cannon-fodder character!?

But in her panic, a new realization settled in.

Cheng Yu’s actions… seemed to imply something much deeper.