Chapter 2: The Rebirth Reward

The servant women tidying up inside the room hurried to stop him. “This is the birthing chamber, an unclean place, Seventh Master, you cannot enter.”

But how could their strength restrain a grown man? Meng Wenxuan broke free from the obstruction and rushed to the bedside.

Seeing his wife lying there, her face pale and exhausted, Meng Wenxuan’s heart ached terribly. He knelt beside the bed, gazing at her tenderly. “Tangtang, you’ve suffered so much.”

The Seventh Young Madam’s given name was Yun Tang, her surname Lin.

Lin Yuntang curled her lips into a weary smile, her voice tired yet brimming with joy. “Wenxuan, look—our daughter is so beautiful, so adorable.”

Meng Jiaoyue’s eyes grew even rounder. Was this man really her father?

Meng Wenxuan finally looked at the infant nestled in his wife’s arms, and immediately met a pair of striking, jet-black eyes as beautiful as polished onyx.

Though newly born, those round, inky eyes sparkled with liveliness, as if examining whether this father was worthy.

The worry in Meng Wenxuan’s heart melted away as he gazed upon his daughter.

He reached out a finger and gently touched his daughter’s soft, chubby cheek. “Our daughter is just as lovely as you, Tangtang.”

Meng Jiaoyue stared at the elegant man before her, feeling the gentle touch on her face. A strange warmth blossomed in her heart—was this what it felt like to be cherished by a father?

Hmm, this father was rather handsome, his voice pleasant, and he seemed to treat Mother very well. A man who’d rush into the birthing room out of concern for his wife’s safety surely wasn’t faking it. He hadn’t shown any disappointment at having a daughter, and while praising his child, he hadn’t forgotten to praise his wife—clearly a devoted husband.

Very well, this father could be considered satisfactory for now.

Drawing on her experiences from her previous life, Meng Jiaoyue evaluated her new father.

After all, though she’d been unable to cultivate in her past life, she was well versed in the ways of the world. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have amassed enough wealth before she was even twenty to live in comfort for the rest of her days.

Thinking of her lost fortune made her heart ache, as if a piece had been gouged out—a hundred chests of spirit stones! The pain was excruciating, especially when she remembered her grand bed carved from a single block of warm jade, its sides engraved with intricate auspicious patterns.

It nourished both body and spirit—a single night’s sleep left one refreshed and full of vigor.

“Father, I gave up so much to become your daughter. You must dote on me well,” Meng Jiaoyue called out inwardly.

Unfortunately, as a newborn, her words emerged as nothing more than soft coos to her parents’ ears, but even so, the two were delighted.

Meng Wenxuan’s eyes shone with astonishment, his voice trembling with joy. “Tangtang, look, our daughter is speaking to me—she must be calling me Father.”

“Yes, I am calling you Father,” Meng Jiaoyue thought, finding her father quite clever.

Meng Wenxuan exclaimed ecstatically, “Tangtang, why do I feel as if our daughter understands what I’m saying?”

The Seventh Young Madam shot him a playful look. “How could that be? Our daughter has just been born. She does seem to like you, though—that much is true.”

Meng Wenxuan considered it and agreed. Ever since his wife became pregnant, he’d spoken daily to the growing child in her womb. It was only natural that his daughter would like him.

His spirits soared, and he began making baby sounds in return, cooing to his daughter.

Though Meng Jiaoyue had never awakened a spiritual root in her past life, her spiritual sense was formidable. She could gauge a person’s fortune by observing the glowing spot between their brows.

Curious about her father’s luck—after all, she would need his protection until she grew up—she decided to test her spiritual sense, uncertain how strong it would be in this newborn body.

As soon as she summoned her spiritual strength, she noticed two sets of numbers above her father’s head: one black, one white. The black read thirty, the white seventy.

Huh? Why were there two sets of numbers above her father’s head? What did it mean?

Her gaze shifted to her mother—there were two sets of numbers as well: twenty in black, eighty in white.

What was going on? These numbers were just like the ones in her fortune ledger, even divided into black and white.

Could this have something to do with her fortune ledger? Had Heaven granted her a reward for being reborn?

She glanced at her parents’ brow centers. Both shone brightly, signifying excellent fortune. Such a radiance meant they were people of exceptional destiny. It seemed her parents were indeed blessed.

“Tangtang, you need rest. Let me hold our daughter.”

Meng Wenxuan carefully lifted his daughter from his wife’s arms. Though his movements were a bit clumsy, he clearly knew how to hold a child, surprising even the midwife nearby.

Who would have thought the Seventh Master of the Meng family could handle a baby? Clearly, he had practiced beforehand. The rumors of the deep affection between the Seventh Master and his wife must be true.

Cradled in her father’s arms, Meng Jiaoyue looked up and saw two sets of numbers above the midwife’s head as well.

The black number was fifty, the white also fifty.

Her brow center was an ordinary color—neither bright nor dark.

Meng Jiaoyue glanced at the other servant women and maids in the room. Each had two sets of numbers above their heads, all different, and the radiance of their brow centers varied too.

She noticed a pattern: the larger the black number, the dimmer the brow center. If it exceeded fifty, it turned gray; over seventy, it was dark gray.

One servant woman had a black number of eighty and a gray-black brow center. From her previous life’s experience, Meng Jiaoyue knew that color meant great misfortune was looming.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, the servant tidying up the birthing room tripped over a chair leg and fell to the floor. To protect her teeth, she raised her head—well, at least her teeth were spared, but her chin swelled up, likely with a fracture.

“Ow!” The servant couldn’t help but cry out from the pain.

The sudden sound startled her beautiful mother, causing her to flinch.

Meng Jiaoyue blinked. This was just the beginning. That servant’s luck would be poor for some time, and unless she found a way to change her fortune, her fate would likely be dire.

Meng Wenxuan frowned at his wife’s fright, soothing her with a gentle pat, then shot a cold glance at the fallen servant. “Clumsy. Get out.”

The servant hurriedly scrambled to her feet and limped out.

Meng Jiaoyue now understood—the numbers reflected a person’s fortune. If, like the midwife, the black and white numbers were both fifty, luck and misfortune balanced out, and such a person tended to be a peacemaker.

If the white number was higher, as with her parents, good fortune outweighed ill, indicating they were kindhearted. Part of it was likely merit accumulated over lifetimes; part, the result of good deeds in this life.

After surveying everyone in the room, Meng Jiaoyue noticed another rule: regardless of which number was higher, the black and white always added up to one hundred. The more good luck, the less bad—and vice versa.

In her previous life, there were no such numbers, but that hadn’t stopped her from using her fortune ledger.

Now, with this new ability, she no longer needed to expend spiritual energy examining the brightness of a person’s brow center—the numbers above their heads made it clear at a glance.

With fortune now measurable to the last digit, her fortune ledger would be even more effective in her hands.

But she wondered—if she brought out her fortune ledger, would the numbers still be there?