Needed By Him

Chapter 6

The fake Qin Ruo sat quietly in her courtyard’s garden, her eyes closed, her breath steady but shallow. A slight frown marred her usually serene expression as waves of pain coursed through her, the result of absorbing too many memories too quickly.

The original owner of the body had left behind a vast amount of information—fragmented pieces of her life, emotions, and interactions—and now, the fake Qin Ruo was struggling to take it all in.

Earlier, she had successfully passed through a meeting with the original’s father, maintaining what she thought was a calm facade. But despite her outward success, an uneasy fear lingered within her. What if her changes drew unwanted attention? What if someone noticed she was not the same Qin Ruo they once knew?

Sitting in the garden, the warm sunlight falling gently over her, she decided this was the perfect time to fully assimilate the memories.

She needed to understand Qin Ruo’s past better, to know what kind of relationships she had with her family and what needed fixing.

The frown on her face deepened as she absorbed more and more of the original Qin Ruo’s memories, her concentration unwavering despite the discomfort.

After some time, she finally opened her eyes, the pain subsiding into a dull throb. Her thoughts settled as the pieces began to fit together. The original Qin Ruo didn’t have a particularly close bond with her family.

In fact, there seemed to be a distinct distance between her and her brothers. The fake Qin Ruo resolved to change that. She would fix this relationship, make it better for the original.

“You’re wrong,” the real Qin Ruo’s voice whispered from the shadows of her soul-state, her tone dignified yet tinged with frustration.

Though no one could hear her, she continued speaking, poised and restrained even in her anger. “I didn’t feel bad with my family… I was fine the way I was.”

Her delicate features twisted in a silent, elegant fury, but her words remained calm, like a noblewoman refusing to lose her composure, even in the face of injustice. Yet, no matter how hard she tried to assert herself, the fake Qin Ruo couldn’t hear her.

Engrossed in her thoughts, the fake Qin Ruo didn’t realize that Qu Zheng had silently entered the garden.

Qu Zheng, having just concluded a discussion with their father, stood at the entrance of the courtyard, his tall, broad frame casting a shadow over the garden.

His cold, stern eyes scanned the figure of his sister. Normally, he would have simply greeted her out of obligation and left, but something made him pause.

“Qin Ruo,” he said, his voice even and measured.

Startled from her thoughts, the fake Qin Ruo turned her head, blinking up at him. “Big brother,” she greeted with a smile, a touch of warmth in her tone.

Qu Zheng was momentarily taken aback. It wasn’t just the words that surprised him—it was the shift in her aura.

The sister he knew had always carried an air of quiet distance, serious and aloof, with a gentle reserve that kept others at bay. But now, she seemed brighter, her demeanor more cheerful, even sweet.

For a moment, the corner of Qu Zheng’s mouth twitched, almost curving into a smile. “You seem… different today,” he commented, his voice still carrying the coldness of a man who rarely expressed his emotions.

The fake Qin Ruo laughed softly, her eyes sparkling with a new energy. “Maybe it’s just the day,” she replied playfully, her voice light.

Qu Zheng’s gaze softened, if only slightly. He wasn’t one to easily show affection, but this change intrigued him.

It made her more approachable, less of the distant figure he’d grown accustomed to. “It’s… unexpected,” he said, his lips tightening into a barely noticeable smirk. “But I suppose it suits you.”

As the two exchanged a few more words, something shifted in Qu Zheng. He felt comfortable, almost at ease, in her presence—something he hadn’t felt in years. It wasn’t like him to linger in conversation, but for the first time, he found himself reluctant to leave.

The real Qin Ruo, watching this exchange from her soul-state, felt her heart tighten painfully. She could see the growing connection between her big brother and the fake in her body.

Despite her dignified anger, a deep sense of loss began to gnaw at her. This version of her, this false Qin Ruo, was beginning to win over the people who had once been hers.

After Qu Zheng excused himself to attend to official matters, the fake Qin Ruo stretched in the garden, a playful yawn escaping her lips. Absorbing all of the original memories had been a strain, leaving her not only mentally exhausted but physically hungry.

Her stomach growled softly, reminding her that it was well past time for a meal. Normally, Li Lei, the original Qin Ruo’s dutiful servant, would have brought her food by now or escorted her back to her room.

However, today was different. The fake Qin Ruo had sent Li Lei away earlier to focus entirely on absorbing the body’s memories, leaving her unattended.

But instead of calling for Li Lei, the fake Qin Ruo felt a spark of excitement bubbling inside her. It wasn’t just the hunger that stirred her—it was the curiosity, a desire to experience the world of this ancient era firsthand.

"I can sneak a peek," She thought mischievously. The thought of seeing the kitchen where traditional meals were prepared, witnessing the process, and exploring the intricacies of this life fascinated her.

The excitement grew as she decided she’d venture to the kitchen herself, eager for an adventure without anyone knowing.

With a determined but quiet step, she made her way toward the kitchen. However, as she passed through the halls, her mind buzzed with the memories she had just absorbed.

The layout of the estate felt strangely familiar, and she found herself drifting toward her second brother Qu Han’s study.

The moment she saw the door, a rush of memories surfaced—Qu Han’s scholarly habits, his love for poetry and books, and how the original Qin Ruo rarely interrupted him.

Without thinking, she abruptly pushed open the door and entered, her curiosity taking control.

Inside, the room was lined with shelves filled with books, scrolls, and ancient texts, the scent of old parchment filling the air. The fake Qin Ruo paused for a moment, feeling a mix of intrigue and hesitation. Back in the modern world, she had never been particularly fond of reading, preferring games and novels about transmigration or rebirth. Yet now, faced with the sheer volume of knowledge in front of her, she couldn’t suppress her curiosity.

Drawn to the shelves, she reached for one of the books. She flipped it open, her eyes scanning the pages. What she saw shocked her—she could actually read it! The ancient Chinese script flowed easily in her mind, the characters making perfect sense.

Her heart raced as the realization dawned on her. "So this is my golden finger!" she thought excitedly, referring to the trope from her favorite transmigration stories, where the protagonist often received a special advantage in their new world. She smiled to herself, convinced that she had unlocked this incredible ability.

Completely immersed in her discovery, the fake Qin Ruo continued to flip through the pages, marveling at her newfound skill. She never once considered that the real Qin Ruo had spent years studying and perfecting her knowledge—she simply assumed it was her own good fortune.

She was so absorbed in her discovery that she didn’t notice Qu Han standing at the doorway, observing her with a raised eyebrow.

"You’re quite eager to read, aren’t you, little sister?" Qu Han’s deep voice broke the silence, calm and filled with an air of quiet amusement.

Startled, the fake Qin Ruo turned to face him, a sheepish grin spreading across her face. "Second brother!" she greeted him warmly, trying to hide her excitement. "I… I just wanted to see what you’ve been reading. It’s all so interesting!"

Qu Han studied her for a moment, his usual calm gaze betraying a hint of surprise. The Qin Ruo he knew would never have barged into his study so boldly, let alone shown such enthusiasm for his books.

But instead of feeling annoyed by her unannounced entrance, he found himself intrigued. There was something different about her—something refreshing.

"And here I thought you weren’t interested in poetry," he remarked, stepping further into the room, his hands casually clasped behind his back.

He glanced at the book she held, his lips curving into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "You’re reading Liu Yuxi’s verses. Do they interest you?"

The fake Qin Ruo nodded enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling. "It’s fascinating!" she said, flipping through the pages. "The way the words flow, the depth of the meanings… I never realized poetry could be this exciting!"

Of course, she was drawing from the body’s memories, but she couldn't help feeling like her enthusiasm was her own. The fake Qin Ruo was eager to test this newfound connection to the original’s knowledge. Perhaps this was one of the perks of transmigrating into this ancient world—a chance to live out the skills and abilities of her new body.

Qu Han, always composed and thoughtful, observed her closely. He hadn’t expected his sister to take such an interest in his books, and seeing her so lively and engaged piqued his curiosity. "You’re… different," he remarked quietly. "I must say, it’s not unpleasant."

Before she could respond, a loud grumble interrupted their conversation. The fake Qin Ruo’s eyes widened in embarrassment as her stomach betrayed her, growling loudly in the quiet room.

Qu Han’s usually composed expression softened into something almost resembling a laugh. A quiet, low chuckle escaped him, the sound so rare it startled her. "It seems your enthusiasm for poetry has made you forget to eat," he teased lightly.

The fake Qin Ruo’s cheeks flushed, and she placed a hand over her stomach, laughing along with him. "I guess I got too carried away," she admitted with a grin. "I was actually on my way to the kitchen…"

Still amused, Qu Han shook his head. "There’s no need for that. Let’s go eat together." He moved toward the table, casting her a rare, warm glance as he gestured to her. "Join me for a meal." while asking his servant to bring the food onto the table.

The fake Qin Ruo smiled brightly, nodding in agreement. "Thank you, Second Brother." Her eyes sparkled with genuine excitement as she followed him out.

As they left the study, the real Qin Ruo, still watching from her soul-state, clenched her fists.

Once again, she saw how effortlessly the imposter had begun to weave her way into her family’s lives.

Even her reserved, scholarly brother Qu Han, who rarely expressed emotion, had softened toward this fake version of herself.

The real Qin Ruo simmered in silent frustration, her elegance never wavering, but her heart aching with the slow realization that her place within her own family was slipping away.

While walking back to her own courtyard, the fake Qin Ruo’s mind wandered. The late afternoon light cast a soft glow over the garden, and her steps were slow and thoughtful as she reflected on the memories she had been absorbing. One memory in particular stood out—Qin Ruo’s talent for playing the guqin, the ancient stringed instrument.

A sudden idea struck her. "Maybe I can play the guqin, too," she thought, curiosity bubbling inside her. If the original Qin Ruo could play, then perhaps, she could as well.

With excitement, she made her way over to the guqin, which rested in the corner of the courtyard, beautifully crafted with smooth wood and delicate strings.

She sat down in front of it, her fingers hovering awkwardly above the instrument. It looked so foreign, yet strangely familiar. Taking a deep breath, she placed her fingers on the strings and plucked tentatively.

The sound that emerged was rough and awkward, far from the elegant melodies she imagined. Her fingers fumbled as she tried to remember the hand positions from the body's memory, but she persisted, plucking the strings again and again.

Slowly, the awkwardness began to fade. Her hands started to find the right spots, the muscles adjusting as if recalling the movements they had made many times before.

Soon, the guqin began to sing, its strings vibrating with a soft and delicate melody. The music flowed gently, like a breeze carrying the scent of flowers. The notes were light yet expressive, filling the courtyard with a serene, calming atmosphere.

It was as if the music painted a picture of nature—birds dancing in the sky, leaves rustling in the wind, a river softly flowing beneath the moonlight.

The fake Qin Ruo felt a thrill of accomplishment as her fingers moved more confidently across the strings. "I can really do this," she thought, pleased with her progress. The melody continued, each note ringing with more clarity and beauty.

Unbeknownst to her, the music had caught the attention of someone nearby.

Qu Ming, her youngest brother, had been passing through the courtyard when the soft notes of the guqin reached his ears. Drawn in by the unexpected sound, he followed it until he saw her seated by the guqin, her eyes focused on the instrument, fingers moving gracefully.

A mischievous grin spread across his face. He stepped closer and, with a teasing tone, called out, “That sounds… terrible.”

Startled, the fake Qin Ruo turned, glaring at him in mock annoyance. “What do you mean terrible? I think it sounds quite good!”

Qu Ming chuckled, his voice light and playful. “You’ve certainly improved, but don’t let it get to your head just yet. You’re still a long way from being a master.”

Normally, the real Qin Ruo would have stayed quiet, simply accepting the playful jab, but the fake Qin Ruo wasn’t about to back down. “I think you’re just jealous!” she retorted, crossing her arms, her lips curling into a defiant smile.

Qu Ming raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her response. “Jealous? Of that?” he scoffed, gesturing to the guqin. “If anything, I’m worried for the poor instrument. You’ll break it if you keep playing like that.”

“Oh, please! I’m doing just fine. Maybe you should try playing instead, since you seem to know so much,” she fired back, her voice teasing but firm.

Their playful banter continued, back and forth like a game. Qu Ming teased her, and she fired right back, matching his energy with a liveliness that surprised him.

It was different, this new dynamic. The old Qin Ruo had always been quiet, reserved. But this version of her was bolder, willing to argue and joke with him, and Qu Ming found himself enjoying it more than he expected.

“You’re really something else today,” he said with a grin, his tone lighter than usual. “I like it. You’re more fun like this.”

The real Qin Ruo, watching from her soul-state, felt a deep pang in her chest as she observed the exchange. The harmony between them—the playful argument, the shared laughter—it was something she had never experienced with Qu Ming.

He had always been distant, their interactions formal and stiff. But now, watching them, it was clear they were growing closer in a way that felt both foreign and painful to her.

Her elegant, composed anger flared again, though it was laced with sorrow.

She had never needed to argue or banter like this to be close to her brothers.

But seeing them now, she felt her sense of belonging slowly slipping away, as if the space she had once occupied in their lives was being filled by someone else—someone who was not her, yet wore her face and lived her life.