The storm that had accompanied the twins’ birth vanished before dawn.
By sunrise, the skies above the capital were clear and brilliant, washed clean by the night’s rain.
Golden sunlight bathed the rooftops of the city, and the world seemed to welcome a new day.
Within the Wen Residence, however, darkness had already settled.
A decision had been made.
The younger twin would disappear.
Not through death.
Not through exile.
But through something far crueler.
She would be erased while still alive.
Three days after the twins were born, the Wen family held a magnificent celebration.
The estate was draped in red silk banners.
Lanterns swayed gently beneath carved eaves, and musicians filled the air with cheerful melodies.
Noble families, court officials, wealthy merchants, and renowned scholars arrived bearing gifts and endless congratulations.
Servants hurried through the halls carrying trays of delicacies and fine wine while laughter echoed throughout the residence.
The entire capital celebrated the birth of the Wen family’s daughter.
One daughter.
Only one.
Inside the main hall, Wen Guozhen stood proudly beside his wife, Zhao Meilin.
Cradled in her mother’s arms was the infant Wen Youru.
Guests surrounded them, offering blessings and praise.
“What a beautiful child.”
“The heavens have truly favored the Wen family.”
“She will surely become one of the capital’s finest noble ladies.”
The compliments flowed endlessly.
To the world, Wen Youru had been born.
Wen Qingli had not.
Far away from the celebration, hidden behind the western gardens in an abandoned courtyard forgotten by nearly everyone, a middle-aged woman sat beside a small cradle.
Nanny Zhao gently rocked the sleeping infant.
Tears streamed silently down her face.
The child sleeping before her was beautiful.
Healthy.
Perfect.
There was nothing monstrous about her.
Nothing ominous.
Nothing that resembled the terrifying prophecy spoken on the night of her birth.
She was simply a baby.
A little girl who deserved to be loved.
The infant stirred in her sleep.
Tiny fingers emerged from the blanket and curled around Nanny Zhao’s finger.
The old woman broke down completely.
“What crime have you committed to deserve this?” she whispered.
Her voice trembled with grief.
“What have you done wrong?”
The baby yawned softly before falling back into peaceful sleep.
In the distance, music and laughter drifted from the main residence.
Celebration for one daughter.
Silence for the other.
Months passed.
Then years.
The twins grew older.
Yet their lives could not have been more different.
Every morning, Wen Youru awoke surrounded by attentive servants.
The finest chefs prepared her meals.
The most respected tutors educated her.
She learned calligraphy, poetry, painting, music, court etiquette, politics, and dance.
Everything expected of a noble daughter.
Everything required of the future jewel of the Wen family.
Meanwhile, in the western courtyard, Wen Qingli learned something entirely different.
She learned how to survive.
The abandoned building leaked whenever it rained.
Winter winds slipped through cracks in the walls.
The roof groaned during storms.
Many servants pretended she did not exist.
Some were afraid of the prophecy.
Others simply followed their master’s wishes.
Only two people remained consistently by her side.
Nanny Zhao.
And a young maid named Lan Yue.
They became her entire world.
When Qingli was five years old, she wandered into the main residence for the first time.
It happened purely by accident.
The gate leading out of the western courtyard had been left unlocked.
Curious and adventurous, Qingli slipped through it and followed a path she had never taken before.
As she walked deeper into the estate, she heard something unfamiliar.
Laughter.
Bright laughter.
Happy laughter.
The kind she rarely heard.
Drawn by the sound, she followed it until she reached a beautiful garden blooming with plum blossoms.
And there she stopped.
Beneath a flowering plum tree stood another little girl.
A little girl who looked exactly like her.
Wen Youru.
Qingli’s eyes widened.
Youru turned at the sound of footsteps.
The twins froze.
For the first time in their lives, they stood face-to-face.
Two identical faces.
Two entirely different worlds.
For several moments, neither spoke.
Then Qingli’s face broke into a radiant smile.
A smile filled with innocent excitement, “Hello,” she said softly.
Youru blinked.
Then she turned away.
As though Qingli did not exist.
The smile immediately faded from Qingli’s face.
Before she could speak again, several maids noticed her.
Their expressions transformed instantly.
Shock.
Fear.
Panic.
One maid screamed.
Another rushed forward and grabbed Qingli by the arm, and Qingli stared at them in confusion.
She had no idea what she had done wrong.
A servant hurried away, and moments later, Zhao Meilin arrived.
The moment her eyes landed on Qingli, her expression darkened.
Anger flashed across her face.
Qingli’s eyes immediately lit up.
“Mother!”
Her voice was bright and hopeful.
The single word carried years of longing.
Years of wondering.
Years of waiting.
Zhao Meilin froze for the briefest moment.
Then her expression became cold.
So cold that even the surrounding servants lowered their heads.
“Didn’t I order that she never leave the western courtyard?”
Her voice cut through the garden like a blade.
The words were directed toward the servants.
Not toward Qingli.
Never toward Qingli.
The little girl’s smile slowly disappeared, and her chest tightened painfully.
She did not understand.
Why would her mother not look at her?
Why would she never smile at her?
Why would she never hold her the way she held Youru?
Zhao Meilin turned toward the steward, “Bring me the disciplinary whip.”
The garden fell silent and the steward paled, “Madam…” His voice trembled.
Surely he had misunderstood.
Meilin’s gaze sharpened, “Do I need to repeat myself?”
The steward lowered his head, “No, Madam.”
A servant quickly brought forward a thin bamboo whip.
Meilin accepted it before handing it back, “Ten lashes.”
Several servants gasped.
The steward’s face turned white.
“Madam… she is only a child.”
Meilin’s expression did not change, “Ten lashes.”
The two maids exchanged terrified glances before reluctantly stepping forward.
Qingli looked up at them, bewildered.
She did not understand why everyone suddenly seemed afraid.
The maids forced her onto her knees.
The steward walked behind her, and tears filled his eyes.
Qingli looked up at him.
Seeing his distress, she offered him a small smile.
As though she were trying to comfort him.
The steward nearly broke, and he looked away.
Then the whip came down.
CRACK!
Qingli screamed.
The pain exploded across her back.
Her tiny body jerked violently.
“Mother!” Tears instantly flooded her eyes, “I’m sorry!”
Another lash.
And another.
And another.
Each strike burned hotter than the last.
By the fourth lash, her cries had become hoarse.
By the sixth, her body was shaking uncontrollably.
By the eighth, blood stained the back of her pale robes.
By the tenth, she could barely remain conscious.
When it was over, the maids released her, and Qingli collapsed onto the ground.
Her small body trembled violently.
Blood soaked through the torn fabric covering her back.
Yet even then, she looked toward Zhao Meilin.
Still hoping.
Still waiting.
Still wishing her mother would look at her.
Would comfort her.
Would tell her everything would be alright.
But Zhao Meilin merely sat beneath the plum tree with Wen Youru resting in her lap.
Her hand gently stroked Youru’s hair.
The tenderness she showed to one daughter.
The cruelty she showed the other.
“Take her back.” Her voice was emotionless.
She rose to her feet and looked down at Youru and held out her hand, “Come. Let’s find your father.”
Youru nodded obediently and grabbed her mother’s hand.
Before leaving, she glanced once at her sister lying in the dirt.
Then she turned away, and the mother and daughter walked off together.
Neither looked back.
Qingli watched them go as tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
For the first time in her young life, her heart understood something her mind could not.
Her mother did not want her.
The maids could no longer hold back their tears.
Carefully, they lifted the injured child into their arms and carried her back to the western courtyard.
When Nanny Zhao heard approaching footsteps, she hurried outside.
The moment she saw Qingli’s condition, she froze.
The world seemed to stop.
Blood.
So much blood.
The little girl’s face was pale.
Her body trembled with fever and pain.
“What happened?” Nanny Zhao’s voice cracked as she runs up to them.
The maids tearfully explained everything.
As they spoke, Nanny Zhao began to sob.
“How could she do this?” Her entire body shook, “How could she do this to a child?”
She gently touched Qingli’s cheek, and the little girl slowly opened her eyes.
Pain filled them.
Confusion filled them, and beneath it all was heartbreak.
A heartbreak far too old for a five-year-old child.
“My poor girl…” Nanny Zhao gathered her carefully into her arms as her tears fell endlessly onto Qingli’s hair, “My poor, poor girl.”
Carrying her inside the small hut, Nanny Zhao held her close as though trying to shield her from the entire world.
Because if no one else would love Wen Qingli…Then she would.
That night, after Nanny Zhao had cleaned and applied ointment to Qingli’s back, and while Yue Lan stood near the stove, fanning the medicine with her small hands, Qingli finally opened her eyes.
Flinching from the pain, her gaze found Nanny Zhao, and despite her discomfort, she managed to give Nanny Zhao a small smile before closing her eyes and falling back to sleep.
A few days later, still healing from her lashes, five-year-old Qingli sat quietly by the window, bathed in moonlight.
Nanny Zhao walked in with a pile of folded clothes, noticed her sitting there, and went to join her.
“What’s wrong, little one?” she asked gently.
Qingli hesitated before asking softly, “Nanny?”
“Hmm?”
“Why doesn’t Mother love me?” she inquired, her words surprisingly mature for such a young girl.
The question broke Nanny Zhao’s heart, and for a long moment, she found herself at a loss for words.
How could she explain?
How could she tell a child that fear had stolen the love Qingli deserved?
Eventually, she gently pulled Qingli into her arms, being careful not to press against her injuries.
Qingli nestled against her, and Nanny Zhao stroked her hair gently.
“It isn’t because of you,” she whispered.
Qingli looked up at her and asked, “Then… why?”
Nanny Zhao swallowed past the lump in her throat and blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears.
She looked down at the little girl and finally replied, “Because… sometimes… adults make terrible mistakes.”
“Will she love me later?” Qingli asked hopefully.
Nanny Zhao’s eyes filled with tears.
She wanted to say yes—she desperately wanted to—but instead she whispered, “I don’t know.”
For several moments, silence enveloped them.
Then Qingli quietly asked the question that would haunt her for years: “Am I difficult to love?”
Nanny Zhao began to cry.
“No,” she whispered, pulling the child a little tighter.
“No, little one. You are the easiest child in the world to love.”
Qingli remained silent.
Eventually, she leaned her head against Nanny Zhao’s shoulder, while outside, the moon shone over the Wen Residence.
In the eastern courtyard, Wen Youru slept surrounded by luxury.
In the abandoned courtyard, Wen Qingli fell asleep wondering why her own mother didn’t love her.
For the first time, a small crack appeared in the gentle heart of the forgotten daughter—a wound that would follow her into adulthood, one that even love would struggle to heal.