Jiang Manor had been preparing for the Nine-Generation Daughter-Washing, and by the time I was born, it had reached the ninth generation.

My stern, imposing grandfather stood guard outside the room.

The midwife said to my father, “Young Master, look carefully. Is she alive or not?”

Following the instructions he had been given, Father answered, “Not alive.”

Once those words were spoken, I would be drowned in the chamber pot.

If the Nine-Generation Daughter-Washing succeeded, it would secure the Jiang Family’s wealth and glory for generations to come.

But then my father whispered, “Alive.”

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