The winter that Qingli turns twenty-two, winter gradually loosens its grip on the capital.
The snow began melting from rooftops.
Frozen ponds slowly thawed.
The bare branches that had stood lifeless for months now showed the first signs of green.
Spring was coming, and with it, change.
Though no one within House Wen realized it yet.
One afternoon, Qingli sat beneath the apricot tree carefully grinding medicinal herbs.
Lan Yue was nearby attempting to repair a torn sleeve.
Attempting… being the important word.
After wrestling with the needle for several minutes, the maid groaned dramatically.
“I think the sleeve is winning.”
Qingli laughed, “The sleeve isn’t alive.”
“How do you know?”
“It doesn’t have feelings.”
Lan Yue pointed at the garment, “Then explain why it keeps attacking me.”
Before Qingli could answer, hurried footsteps entered the courtyard and a young maid appeared.
Breathless.
Panicked.
“Miss Qingli!”
Qingli immediately stood.
“What happened?”
The maid’s eyes were red from crying.
“It’s my grandmother.” Her voice shook, “She collapsed this morning.”
Qingli’s expression became serious.
“How old is she?”
“Seventy.”
“Has she been ill?”
The maid nodded frantically, “For months.”
Without hesitation, Qingli picked up her medical bag to turns to the young maid.
“Take me to her.”
Lan Yue sighed before getting up, “There goes our peaceful afternoon.”
Then she grabbed her own cloak and followed.
The elderly woman lived in a small servant residence near the outer estate walls.
The room was modest.
Clean.
But poor.
Qingli immediately moved to the bedside.
The old woman was unconscious.
Her breathing shallow and her face pale.
Several worried family members stood nearby.
The moment Qingli entered, hope filled their eyes and the sight made her uncomfortable.
Because she wasn’t a physician.
She was simply someone who had studied medicine.
Yet she would never refuse someone in need.
For nearly an hour she examined the elderly woman.
Asked questions.
Prepared herbs.
Checked symptoms.
Eventually she exhaled quietly and the family immediately tensed.
“Miss?”
Qingli smiled reassuringly before giving them the answer they been waiting for.
“She’ll recover.”
Relief swept through the room and several people began to cry.
One young servant fell to her knees.
“Thank you.”
Qingli quickly helped her stand, “Please don’t kneel.”
“But—”
“No.”
Her smile remained gentle, “Save your strength for caring for your grandmother.”
The young woman nodded through tears.
And while watching the interaction, Lan Yue smiled.
This was who Qingli truly was.
Not Wen’s residence hidden daughter.
Not the child of a prophecy.
Not a burden.
Just Qingli.
And somehow, that was enough.
Unfortunately, good deeds rarely stayed secret for long.
Especially within Wen residence.
The following morning, Zhao Meilin heard the story.
Again.
Another servant.
Another rescue.
Another reason for people to praise Qingli.
The matron’s mood darkened immediately, and a teacup shattered against the floor.
The servant delivering the news immediately dropped to his knees.
“Madam”
“Leave.”
The single word was icy and the servant fled.
Zhao Meilin sat silently for several moments.
Her jaw clenched while her fingers gripping the armrest.
Every time she thought the problem had been solved, Qingli somehow drew attention again.
Not intentionally.
Never intentionally.
Yet attention followed her regardless.
And Zhao Meilin hated it.
Because attention led to questions, and questions led to secrets, and secrets destroyed families.
At least, that was what she told herself.
The next day, the Lady of Wen Residence sat inside her private receiving room.
Her expression remained perfectly calm as a maid repeated what she had heard from several servants regarding Qingli’s saving another servants.
Zhao Meilin slowly set down her teacup, her anger clearly shown on her face.
“Several servants.”
“Y-Yes, Madam.”
The crack of shattering porcelain echoed through the room and the maid screamed as tea splashed across the floor.
The expensive cup lay in pieces while the servant immediately pressed her forehead against the ground.
“Madam, please forgive me.”
Zhao Meilin rose to her feet, and her face had become frighteningly cold.
For years, she had carefully controlled Qingli’s existence.
Carefully.
Methodically.
No attention.
No recognition.
No place within the family.
And now servants were openly discussing her.
Openly sympathizing with her.
Openly admiring her.
“Bring Wen Qingli here.”
The order spread through Wen residence like wildfire as servants exchanged worried glances.
Because everyone knew what usually happened whenever Zhao Meilin summoned Qingli.
Nothing good.
The western courtyard was peaceful when the summons arrived.
Qingli sat beneath the apricot tree reading while Lan Yue sorted dried herbs, and Lan Yue caught sight of the approaching servant, which immediately caused Lan Yue to tense.
The maid already knew…she always knew.
“Miss.”
The servant bowed.
“Madam summons you.”
The smile faded from Qingli’s face and Lan Yue stood immediately.
“No.”
Qingli looked at her.
“Yue’er.”
“No.”
The maid’s eyes were already filling with tears, “Every time she calls for you, something terrible happens.”
Qingli reached over and squeezed her hand.
“It’s alright.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Her voice cracked.
“It never is.”
Because Lan Yue wasn’t wrong.
Still, she stood.
Smoothed her robes, and followed the servant.
Like she always did.
When Qingli entered Zhao Meilin’s receiving room, she immediately sensed the tension and the atmosphere felt suffocating.
Dangerous.
Zhao Meilin sat at the head of the room while Youru stood nearby.
And as usual, Wen Guozhen was absent.
Qingli knelt.
“You summoned me, Madam.”
Not Mother.
Never Mother.
Madam.
The title should have pleased Zhao Meilin.
Instead, for reasons she couldn’t explain, it irritated her.
“Do you enjoy disobeying me?”
Qingli blinked.
“No.”
“Then explain yourself.”
Confusion flickered across her face, “What have I done?”
Zhao Meilin’s eyes narrowed, “The servants speak about you.”
The answer came immediately.
Again.
It was always the same.
Qingli lowered her gaze, “I never asked them to.”
“No.” Zhao Meilin laughed coldly, “You simply encourage it.”
Qingli spoke softly, “I only helped people.”
“There.” Zhao Meilin pointed, “Again.”
The room fell silent.
“Helping people.”
The words dripped with contempt.
“As though you’re some benevolent saint.”
Qingli’s chest tightened, “I never claimed that.”
“Then perhaps you should stop acting like it.”
The cruelty of the statement stunned even the servants.
Zhao Meilin rose slowly.
Her expensive robes rustling softly as she approached Qingli.
Each step deliberate.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
“You are becoming a problem.”
The words struck harder than any slap.
Qingli remained silent, because she had heard them before.
Many times.
“You have forgotten your place.”
“No.”
Her voice was barely audible, “I haven’t.”
“Then why do servants speak your name?”
The question echoed through the room.
Qingli had no answer because she genuinely didn’t know.
She never sought attention or praise.
She simply couldn’t ignore suffering.
That was all, and yet somehow that always became a crime.
Finally Zhao Meilin stopped in front of her.
“I warned you.”
Qingli lowered her head.
“Yes, Madam.”
“I punished you.”
“Yes, Madam.”
“And yet you continue.”
The room felt impossibly quiet for the longest time before Zhao Meilin delivered her judgment.
“From this day forward, the western courtyard will remain sealed.”
Qingli froze and even the servants appeared shocked.
“The gates will remain locked.”
The words echoed through the room.
“No servant may enter.”
“No servant may leave.”
“No one is permitted to visit.”
Qingli’s face slowly lost color, and for the first time, genuine fear appeared.
Not for herself.
For others.
For Lan Yue.
For Nanny Zhao.
For the people she cared about.
“Madam—”
“Silence.”
Qingli immediately lowered her head.
Zhao Meilin continued.
“Furthermore, any servant found speaking with you…”
Her gaze swept across the kneeling servants.
“…will be dismissed immediately.”
The room erupted and several servants gasped.
One maid burst into tears because dismissal meant disaster.
Most servants supported entire families and losing employment could destroy lives.
Zhao Meilin’s expression remained cold.
“Any servant who provides assistance.”
“Any servant who delivers messages.”
“Any servant who visits the western courtyard.”
“They will be removed from Wen Residence.”
The threat hung heavily in the air and no one doubted she meant it.
As Qingli walked back toward the western courtyard, the reality slowly settled over her.
The gates would be locked.
The servants forbidden.
The courtyard isolated.
Completely.
She had spent most of her life hidden and yet somehow this felt worse.
Because now the isolation was intentional.
Deliberate.
A punishment.
Lan Yue met her at the entrance and the moment she heard the news, her face turned white.
“No.”
Qingli managed a weak smile.
“It’s alright.”
“No.” Lan Yue shook her head fiercely, “It isn’t. They’re imprisoning you.”
Neither woman realized how accurate those words were.
That evening, iron chains wrapped around the western courtyard gates.
Heavy locks followed, and the sound echoed through the night.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
Every strike felt final.
Servants watched from a distance.
Many cried quietly while others looked away, but noone dared intervene.
Because Zhao Meilin’s threat was very real.
Families depended on these jobs.
Children depended on these jobs.
The price of kindness had become too high.
Late that night, Qingli stood beside the locked gates.
Moonlight illuminated the chains.
Cold metal.
Cold stone.
Cold silence.
For the first time in years, the western courtyard truly felt like a prison.
Behind her, Lan Yue quietly cried, and Qingli reached for the iron bars.
Then smiled sadly.
Not because she accepted it.
Not because it didn’t hurt. Get faster updates on g.com.
But because she had survived worse.
And somewhere deep inside her heart, a small stubborn flame still burned.
They could lock the gates.
They could silence the servants.
They could isolate her from the world.
But they could never make her cruel, they could never take away her kindness, and they could never erase who she was.
The forgotten daughter remained standing beneath the moonlight.
Alone.
Yet unbroken.
The first week after the gates were locked was the hardest.
Silence settled over the western courtyard like a heavy blanket.
No servants visited.
No maids stopped by with gossip.
No elderly gardeners came asking for herbal remedies.
No children wandered near the courtyard walls.
Nothing.
Only stillness.
Only isolation.
Only the cold reminder of iron chains wrapped around the gates.
For Lan Yue, the punishment was unbearable.
The maid stood at the courtyard entrance every morning staring at the locked gate as though sheer determination could force it open.
Yet, every morning, it failed, and every morning, she became angrier.
“This is ridiculous.”
Qingli sat beneath the apricot tree reading, and flip the page, “You’ve said that twelve times today.”
“Because it remains ridiculous.” Lan Yue crossed her arms, “They’ve imprisoned us.”
“We still have the courtyard.”
“We have four walls and a locked gate.”
Qingli smiled faintly, “Then let’s make the most of it.”
Lan Yue stared at her, then groaned as she lays her head on the table.
“How are you a real person?”
The question made Qingli laugh.
A genuine laugh, and the sound eased some of the tension hanging over the courtyard.
Some.
Not all.
A few days later, Qingli noticed something strange.
Every morning, fresh vegetables appeared near the kitchen door.
At first she assumed they had been delivered before the restrictions.
Then fresh firewood appeared.
The following day, a basket of eggs.
The day after that, several pieces of dried meat.
Always left quietly.
Always with no explanation.
Lan Yue narrowed her eyes suspiciously, “They’re helping us.”
Qingli looked at the basket of vegetables, which had clearly been harvested recently.
“But they’re not allowed.”
Lan Yue snorted, “Neither is breathing too loudly around Zhao Meilin.” The maid picked up a cabbage, “Yet people continue doing it.”
Despite herself, Qingli smiled, yet concern quickly followed.
If servants were secretly helping them, they could lose their livelihoods.
Their homes.
Their futures.
She couldn’t allow that.
Not because of her.
The following morning, Qingli waited near the kitchen door before sunrise.
The courtyard remained dark still, and the world still half asleep.
Eventually, a shadow appeared.
A young servant hurried forward carrying another basket while looking around.
The moment he saw Qingli, he froze and panic flooded his face.
“Miss!”
Qingli stepped forward quickly, “You need to stop.”
The servant immediately shook his head, “No.”
“If Madam discovers this—”
“Then she discovers it.”
The answer stunned her.
The young servant lowered his gaze, “When my daughter was sick, everyone else ignored us.” His voice shook, “You didn’t.”
Qingli felt her chest tighten, “That doesn’t mean you should risk your future.”
The servant smiled sadly, “Miss.” He carefully placed the basket down, “You’ve spent your entire life paying the price for other people.”
His eyes reddened, “Please allow us to pay a small price for you.”
Before Qingli could respond, he bowed deeply and hurried away.
Leaving her standing alone.
Speechless.
That afternoon, Qingli sat quietly beside the herb garden as the servant’s words refused to leave her mind.
You spent your entire life paying the price for other people.
Was that true?
Perhaps.
A little.
She thought about the prophecy.
The hidden courtyard.
The years of loneliness.
The punishments.
The locked gates.
And for the first time, she wondered what her life might have been if she had been born first.
If she had been Wen Youru.
If she had been the loved daughter.
The acknowledged daughter.
Would she have become someone different?
Someone colder?
Someone selfish?
The thought unsettled her.
Because she genuinely didn’t know.
That night, a storm rolled across the capital and rain battered rooftops as thunder shook the sky.
Lightning illuminated the western courtyard and Qingli sat by the window watching the storm.
She had always loved rain.
The sound felt peaceful.
Comforting.
As though the heavens themselves were singing.
Lan Yue sat nearby mending clothing…or trying to.
“Miss.”
“Hm?”
“What will you do when you finally leave this place?”
Qingli looked surprised.
“Leave?”
“You will.”
Lan Yue spoke with absolute certainty.
“One day.”
Qingli smiled softly, “And where exactly would I go?”
The maid immediately answered.
“Everywhere.”
The response made Qingli laugh and Lan Yue grinned.
“I’m serious.”
She pointed dramatically.
“You’ll travel.”
“You’ll see mountains.”
“Rivers.”
“Markets.”
“Cities.”
“Everything.”
The warmth in her voice softened, “And people will love you.”
The room became quiet, and Qingli looked away.
Because some dreams hurt too much to touch.
Yet deep inside, a tiny part of her wanted to believe.
Wanted to imagine a life beyond Wen Residence.
A life beyond locked gates.
A life beyond loneliness.
Outside, thunder rumbled across the sky.
Neither woman realized that fate was already moving toward them.
Far beyond the capital, a young general was returning from a military campaign.
A man known throughout Liang as an undefeated commander.
A man feared by enemies and respected by emperors.