The sunlight after the rain, mingling with the scent of dampness, filtered through the white-patterned curtains, casting its glow upon the pale-faced girl lying on the bed.
The girl appeared no more than fourteen or fifteen, with golden hair spread like a slumbering beauty’s across the pillow, but a bandage wound around her head exuded a faint, bitter smell of medicine.
The warmth of the sun was comforting, yet the pain in her head made her frown.
Zhang Lin struggled to open her eyes, touching the bandage on her head, only to find herself in an unfamiliar room.
It was a spacious and bright bedroom.
A bed, a small wardrobe, two white high-backed chairs, and a white writing desk furnished the room.
"Where am I?"
The strange room, the unfamiliar surroundings, the bandage on her head—it suddenly dawned on her, and she hurriedly glanced down at herself.
At some point, her original clothes had been replaced with a white silk nightgown, a thin blanket covering her.
Her once mature body was now inexplicably small and frail.
"...What is going on?"
The transformation in her body sent a wave of dizziness through her aching head, a fierce tearing sensation flooding her mind with a torrent of memories.
The intense pain caused her to roll her eyes and collapse back, and in a daze, she vaguely heard a startled cry.
She didn’t know how much time had passed.
Zhang Lin slowly opened her eyes again.
Her mind was now filled with the life memories of a country noble named Freya Green.
In these memories, Freya Green lived in a world resembling medieval Europe.
She was born in a mid-sized country called the Byron Kingdom, with her family’s territory located on the border with the Saladin Kingdom. Her father, Baron Green, was tasked with defending this border.
However, a vast forest named Walter lay between their land and Saladin, and in Freya’s recollection, aside from occasional refugees fleeing through the forest, there was little danger.
But this assumption led the spirited Freya to ignore warnings and ride into the forest alone to hunt, where she was unfortunately attacked by refugees, falling from her horse and giving Zhang Lin the opportunity to take over.
"I’ve actually... transmigrated," Zhang Lin muttered incredulously, rubbing her head.
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Perhaps because of the family’s territorial expanse, her father, Baron Green, owned a vast estate, including three large farms, five villages, and towns, with a population of around five thousand.
At present, she was in one of the family’s properties in town.
As Zhang Lin sorted through the chaotic memories in her mind, a sudden noise interrupted her thoughts.
Creak.
The door opened.
A tall, middle-aged man with a stern expression, dressed in black noble attire, and sporting golden hair, strode in.
Behind him followed a frail old man in gray linen clothes, carrying a brown leather case.
From Freya’s memories, she recognized the tall man as her father, Baron Green.
"Father,"
Zhang Lin hastily tried to get up from the bed to greet him as Freya would.
A large hand pressed her back down.
"Don't move! Doctor Kaela, check on her," the baron ordered the elderly man behind him, his deep voice tinged with anger as he frowned at his daughter.
"Yes, my lord."
At the baron’s command, the doctor swiftly opened his case, took out medical tools, and approached the bed.
As the doctor examined her, Zhang Lin quickly recalled memories of her father.
Andre Green, forty years old, a baron of the empire and lord of the land, was known for his ruthless and bloodthirsty reputation. Yet now, he appeared as a concerned father.
"My lord, except for the head injury, Miss is otherwise fine. She just needs rest,"
The examination was brief. Doctor Kaela packed his tools and respectfully stepped back, reporting to the baron.
Hearing this, the baron’s furrowed brow relaxed, and he waved the doctor away.
Once the door closed, he approached the bed.
"Freya, I’ve told you many times not to go hunting in the forest alone. If you must go, take guards with you! The dangers there are not limited to mere refugees!" His deep voice was stern, making Zhang Lin realize the gravity of her mistake.
"I understand, Father. I was wrong," Zhang Lin said, lowering her head, her voice trembling with guilt.
"A girl falling from a running horse with only a minor injury... it seems your mother’s spirit still protects you." Seeing his daughter’s contrite expression, the baron’s heart softened, and he gently stroked her hair.
"You’ll be fifteen soon. I plan to send you to the noble academy in Kent City. Your brother is useless; all my hopes rest on you. If anything happened to you, I can't imagine..."
He sighed, falling into a contemplative silence.
Feeling the warmth of his hand on her head, Zhang Lin, through Freya’s memories, understood more about her father.
The outwardly ruthless and cold-hearted baron was, in fact, deeply devoted to his children, unlike other nobles. He had only four children.
His eldest son had long answered the empire’s call to the front lines of war, with little hope of survival.
His second daughter had married a wealthy foreign merchant years ago.
The third daughter was Freya, while the fourth son was an incorrigible wastrel.
Though the baron had many concubines, his feelings for his other three children, except for the fourth son, were genuine.
Now, with only Freya left by his side, all his hopes rested on her, even though she was a girl.
Whatever Freya desired, he would do his utmost to provide, which perhaps had fostered her rebellious nature.
After a long silence, the baron withdrew his hand.
"Freya, I’ve already lost the most important woman in my life. I don’t want to lose you too... This is the last time. If it happens again... you know the consequences."
His voice, tinged with coldness, made Zhang Lin instinctively shrink back. This near-fatal incident had truly angered the baron, who usually doted on her.
"I understand, Father."
"Alright, your body is still weak. Rest well. I’ll have Ham bring you home this afternoon,"
The baron nodded, patted her shoulder, and left.
The bedroom door closed with a thud.
Zhang Lin breathed a sigh of relief. Despite the baron’s affection, she could feel the pressure behind his doting.
Lying back down, she continued to organize Freya’s memories.