Chapter 2

I am a great liar, full of lies since childhood, cunning by nature.

My mother was a woman from a brothel. She got pregnant with a patron’s child, wanting to turn over a new leaf, but that patron toyed with her for six years without giving her a name. Unwilling to raise me, she tricked me out of the house on the Lantern Festival and left me by the riverside.

But, hehe, I deceived her too. On my way out, I swiped the silver she had hidden away.

An old rogue on the street lured me away with a meat bun, and I became one of his little pickpockets.

I did it on purpose.

Because following him meant food, drink, and a big house to live in.

He kept a group of children, and I learned the fastest among them. When I made my move, I always targeted young boys. If I got caught, I would wail:

“Brother, I was wrong! I’ll never fight you for pastries again! Please don’t sell me to the brothel!”

I knocked my head on the ground with a loud thud, my innocent little face perfect for deceiving people.

While the young master was being pointed at and scolded by the onlooking aunties, I’d shrink into the arms of the cake-selling lady, trembling and crying, and take the chance to snatch another purse.

My thieving skills became exquisite, and the old rogue, counting his silver, praised me with his yellowed teeth: “You little brat, you’re just like my own! From now on, you’re my heir!”

I served him tea, sweet-tongued and glib: “Master!”

He pinched my cheeks: “Little darling, seeing how obedient you are, in a couple of years I’ll take you to the brothel. With that face, you’re sure to make big money!”

I pretended not to understand, gnawing on another chicken leg.

I never failed, unlike Ah Mao, who messed up so many times his hands and feet were broken and was left begging on the street corner.

But that didn’t stop the old rogue from beating me bloody when he was drunk.

At twelve, I finally had my chance to pay him back.

A big fat sheep wandered into our turf, and the old rogue warned us over and over not to make a move.

But I did-and succeeded.

I handed the money over to the unsuspecting old rogue.

When I brought that man back to the ruined temple, the old rogue was tossing a gold-thread purse, and I shook the man’s hand, giving a not-quite-genuine smile:

“Uncle, I saw it. He stole your purse.”

That man was a notorious, ruthless gambling house boss in the city.

Under a hail of sticks, the old rogue fell to his knees, begging for mercy. I swung a stick down as well and sent him to the afterlife.

Fresh blood splattered on my shoes-so satisfying!

Then I packed up the valuables and vanished far away.

I made up a pitiful backstory, sold myself at the Academy gates to bury my father, and entered the Academy as a cleaning maid.

Teachers and students at the Academy liked obedient and docile girls, so I hid my fangs and claws, pretending to be gentle and sweet.

As I chewed on juicy meat, the clear sound of reading drifted in: “Whenever you speak, honesty comes first; deceit and lies, what good are they?”

I smiled.

Virtue and morality are for the well-fed and wealthy to talk about. For someone like me, a little ant crawling in this world, to survive, you must set aside your conscience.

I squatted by the Academy wall for three years, picked up a few tricks, and after a while, even put on a bit of a scholarly air.

Then, with this bit of learning, I went to Jing City to work as a maid for the daughters of wealthy families-reciting poetry, embroidering, painting, serving the Misses until they married well, and my own value as a maid rose with theirs.

As the saying goes, out in the world, your identity is what you make it.

I changed my backstory again and slipped into the Shen Mansion as a high-class maid.

No one called me whore’s child or thief anymore-they all called me Miss Yuan.