Oh dear. Ling Wanwan felt a burning pain across her cheeks. What in the world—some desperate fool must have struck her while she was drunk and vulnerable! Suddenly opening her eyes, a fierce anger blazed within them, like a roaring fire, sending the woman who had been quietly wiping tears from her eyes gasping, her tears even flowing backward. "Madam," the woman blinked, her eyes swollen. How could that be? Surely she had mistaken something. How could a child of only three years old display such fierce determination? She comforted herself with that thought. "Madam?" Ling Wanwan furrowed her brows, studying the middle-aged woman. The woman’s complexion was slightly pale, her eyes swollen from weeping. A cheap hairpin leaned crookedly in her hair, with a few strands of hair loose and disheveled. She wore a blue robe, a bit worn. Such an outfit was clearly something only seen in historical dramas. Her round, bright eyes rolled smoothly, taking in her surroundings with subtle attention: the circular wooden windows, the warm-toned wooden table and chairs, and the white linen bed she lay upon—everything exuded a classic, timeless charm. Her cool, slightly tilted head instantly flashed four words. With a subtle glance, her IQ of 200 instantly recognized that she had indeed been transported. Though rather bewildered—just a case of being drunk—it was nothing out of the ordinary. She always went with the flow, dressed or not. Even if she ended up in ancient times, she would still thrive. Habitually, she snapped her fingers—only for a slender arm to emerge from the blanket. What in the world? Though she had fully accepted the notion of time travel, she hadn’t expected it to unfold quite this way. Instead of becoming a beautiful lady, she had ended up as the very creature she most disliked—a little sprite. Her dark brows furrowed in frustration. Damn time travel! She silently cursed, wishing she knew which deity had orchestrated this—she’d make sure they paid dearly. "Miss, what's wrong with you?" The woman finally noticed that the young lady before her seemed unusually off, her eyes devoid of fear—instead, they were sharp and determined. What on earth was going on? Had the young lady been knocked senseless? With tears in her eyes, she gazed anxiously at Ling Wanwan. "Who are you?" Ling Wanwan stared at the woman, not recognizing her as the lady's mother. Yet she was so attentive—was she perhaps the nursemaid? "Miss, what's wrong with you? I'm the nursemaid," the woman was startled by Ling Wanwan's unfamiliar expression. "My dear Miss, you've never had a mother since birth, and now you've suddenly gone blank!" After a moment of pause, the woman began weeping again. Ling Wanwan rolled her eyes. It seemed the nursemaid was made of water. If the woman kept crying like this, the entire room would soon be submerged. Still, perhaps she now had to adopt the same 'forgetting everything' trope as the heroines in the novels about time-travelers? Though Ling Wanwan had always looked down upon such performances, she might have to act it out now. That was truly profound—more than an Oscar-winning actress. Her eyes, like black gems, were half-closed, gleaming with intensity. Her lips, slightly pale from blood loss, curled slightly, half-smiling, half-trying to smile. A sly, utterly unexpected chuckle bloomed—like a magical woman of the twenty-first century was being reborn right here. "Are you my nurse?" Cold Wan-Wan lifted her flushed, round face, her soft, childlike voice echoing in the quiet room. Delicate, full of wonder and fear, it resonated with the shimmering dew caught in her black gem eyes, stirring an uncontrollable maternal warmth in the nurse. "I am your nurse, miss. Don't be afraid." Seeing the helpless look on Cold Wan-Wan's face, the woman immediately wiped away a tear and sat beside her. With her hands, thickened with calluses, she gently caressed the injured face of the child. Though she was so careful, the hard calluses still caused discomfort. Ah— The child's delicate brow furrowed, her eyes glistening with tears, making the scene even more touching. Damn it. Leng Wanwan cursed silently in her heart—how weak this body was. "Nanny, why can't I remember anything?" Tears glistened in her eyes and traced down her cheeks as her pale lips trembled slightly. "Why hasn't Father come to see me?" Just now, upon hearing the nanny explain that the body's original owner had never had a mother, she had spared herself the awkwardness of directly asking her father to become her father. "Ah, such a pitiful young lady," the nanny sighed again, placing her hand gently on Leng Wanwan's dark hair and stroking it softly. "Your father, so cold and indifferent since you were born, never once looked at you properly. He let other ladies of the general's household bully you, and even the less respectful servants dared to look down upon you. What a pity, what a pity…" As she spoke, the woman began to weep again. Cold Bwan listened patiently as the woman wept, quickly extracting a few key points from her account: first, the host of this body had lost her mother at birth, and it seemed that only this wet nurse had shown her kindness; second, her father must be the general; third, she had been mistreated by the other ladies and her attendants. Hmm, this host of the body truly is a pitiful little thing. Cold Bwan silently sighed in her heart. Yet now, the body belonged to her. Any harm done to the body was harm done to her—those who had wronged her would all find themselves seeking their own undoing! "Grand nurse, what is my name? And what was my mother like?" Her head lowered, concealing the simmering intensity in her eyes. Her rosy hands, seemingly unconsciously twisting together, were actually calculating how to bring down each of those who were now self-destructing. "Miss Cold, named Bwan." The nurse gently stroked her head, perhaps unaware that this was no accident. Cold Bwan? Well, at least her name was her own. "The lady's mother, by her given name Xiao Lian, was once a child of great misfortune. At eight, she was sold into the household to serve as a maid. At fourteen, she encountered a general who had been drinking and returned late, and thus gave birth to you, the lady. She then became the general's concubine, believing that from then on she would escape her hardships. Yet, after that, the general forgot her entirely. She remained alone in her small courtyard, mocked by other maids for her lack of dignity and for her attempts to seduce the general, and further persecuted by the other concubines. When she was seven months pregnant with the lady, Lady Xiao Lian fell ill with poisoning, resulting in premature labor. With all her strength, she delivered the lady, but she herself did not survive. The lady, due to the early birth, has always been frail in health." Such a dramatic plot. In her heart, Ling Wan silently sighed—how unfortunate the lady's mother truly was, being forced into such a situation. Yet the general was no ordinary man; he could barely tolerate even the young, fourteen-year-old girl. It was clear he was ruthlessly trampling upon the future of the nation Touching her tummy, she said softly and pathetically, "Yes, Madam Nursemaid will prepare the meal for Miss right away." Hearing Cold-Bend cry out for food, the woman wiped a tear and hurried off to arrange something for her to eat. Once the nursemaid was out of sight, Cold-Bend immediately used her spiritual strength to ease her pain. Then she climbed off the bed—why climb? After all, she was only three years old, and the bed was simply too high for her small frame. She ran to a bronze mirror, brought a stool, and stood on it, trying her best to make out the shape of her body through the blurry reflection. She was used to looking like a little spirit now. But she absolutely refused to be a little spirit who looked unimpressive—she would not put up with that. Her hair was black as ink, her eyebrows curved gently, her eyes large and bright. Her nose was delicate, and though her lips lacked a deep flush, they were still quite pleasant. Her face was small and delicate, with a slight swelling on both cheeks. But overall, there's definitely potential for her to develop into a beautiful woman. Looking down at her height and figure, she notices they're a bit slender—less than ideal, so she'll need to work on strengthening them. After taking in her entire appearance, she climbs back onto the bed and settles in. She hasn't forgotten that she's still a young girl who's injured and has lost her memory—she can't reveal everything too soon. Some things, if revealed too quickly, would lose their charm. With a sly, mischievous smile, she looks at the people who've previously mistreated her, knowing they're in for it now. Happy New Year!