The owner looked her up and down, assessing her ability to pay, before replying,

“It’s two-for-one silver coins.”

The vendor extended his right hand, clearly expecting payment upfront. Evelyn complied without protest, unbothered by the man’s rude manner.

The elder quickly snatched the coins from her palm, hastily wrapping the order before thrusting it into Evelyn’s hands.

“Now shoo! Shoo! You stink! I won’t get any customers if you linger,” he complained.

Rather than feeling offended, Evelyn, already satisfied with having food in hand, strode away cheerfully. She paid no attention to the man’s words as she bit into one of the two meat buns she had purchased.

So engrossed was she in eating that she failed to notice someone rushing directly into her path. They collided hard, sending the bun she was eating tumbling to the ground. She was left with only one.

“My bun…” she muttered, eyes mournfully fixed on the half-eaten meat bun lying in the dirt, before glaring at the person who had bumped into her.

She was just about to rant and demand compensation when she froze.

The person standing before her was a woman who looked exactly like his younger sister, Kayla.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I was in a hurry, I’m really sorry,” the young woman repeated anxiously. She appeared to be around twenty years old.

Evelyn stood motionless, staring at her.

Her mannerisms… even the way she apologizes, it’s just like Kayla. The only difference is her hair. Kayla’s hair is black, not red-orange.

She continued to watch her in silence until something else caught her attention.

Why does she keep glancing around like that?

Her panicked expressions unsettled her. Her brows furrowed.

“Why are you in such a mess?” Evelyn asked, concern creeping into her voice.

“What happened? Why aren’t you wearing sandals, or shoes?”

Then, more sharply,

“Is someone chasing you?”

The young woman finally focused on her. They locked eyes, and she nodded briefly, tension clear on her face. But her expression suddenly shifted to disgust, as if she had caught an unpleasant smell. She recoiled, pinching her nose tightly.

“What’s wrong?” Evelyn asked, confused.

She stepped closer. She stepped back again, still pinching her nose. Realization dawned on her.

“Ah… so that’s why,” she chuckled.

Before she could react, she grabbed her hand and yanked it away from her nose.

“Ouch! Why did you do that?” the young woman exclaimed, glaring at her.

“Ask your manners,” Evelyn replied flatly, his expression unamused.

Her response only fueled her irritation. She opened her mouth to retort, but an anxious voice rang out from behind, stop her.

“Young miss! Oh, thank God, we finally found you!” The woman called out.

“Stay right there! We’re coming, don’t run off again, you’ll hurt yourself! You’re not even wearing shoes. What if your feet get bruised? Please, stay where you are!”

Evelyn looked ahead and saw what that woman is wearing, she somehow dressed like a noble, flanked by two burly men who looked unmistakably like imperial guards straight out of an ancient Chinese drama. She glanced back at the young woman beside him.

Only now did she notice her attire clearly, an extravagant pink Hanfu adorned with delicate hairpins usually reserved for royalty, strikingly similar to those she’d seen in the historical dramas Kayla used to recommend.

“Ah… now I understand,” she murmured.

The young woman looked at here, confused.

“So,” she said lightly,

“you’re some kind of princess?”

“What?” the young woman replied, distracted and impatient, her gaze darting around again.

Evelyn smiled warmly and extended her right hand.

“Want to run? I’m pretty good at—”

Before she could finish, she was grabbed and they both bolted.

“My lady!” the servant’s frantic cries echoed behind them.

“Hurry! Follow the young miss, we mustn’t lose her again!”

“Please come back with us! Your father, will be arriving from court soon!” the woman pleaded, fear lacing her voice.

“If he discovers you’ve left your residence, we will be punished! Please, show mercy!”

“I don’t care!” the young woman shouted defiantly, sprinting ahead without slowing.

Beside her, Evelyn couldn’t help but laugh as they continued running. The sound earned her a sharp glare, and she immediately raised her hands in surrender.

“Sorry,” she said quickly.

“You just remind me of someone I know.”

The young woman, clearly frustrated and in no mood to decipher her words, rolled her eyes dismissively and kept moving.

“You know,” Evelyn went on, breathless but smiling faintly,

“my younger sister and I once ran like this too, desperately fleeing from people who attacked our country. We were at war back then.”

She chuckled softly, though a trace of sadness lingered in her eyes.

“I can’t believe I’m running again,” she added,

“but this time it’s not from missiles… it’s from people who condescendingly call you ‘young miss.’”

The twenty-year-old woman abruptly slowed, then stopped altogether.

She turned to stare at Evelyn, disbelief written plainly across her face, eyes wide.