The years passed quietly within House Wen.
Spring became summer.
Summer became autumn.
Autumn became winter.
Again and again.
As the seasons changed, the differences between the twins became increasingly obvious.
One child was raised beneath sunlight while the other lived in shadows.
By the time the girls were thirteen years old, Wen Youru had built a reputation as one of the most celebrated young girls in the capital.
Noble ladies praised her beauty.
Tutors praised her intelligence.
Guests praised her elegance.
Every achievement was announced proudly throughout Wen Residence.
Every success was rewarded.
Every smile she offered was cherished.
Meanwhile, most servants barely remembered there was another daughter living inside the estate.
A daughter who shared the same face.
A daughter whose existence remained hidden behind locked gates.
The western courtyard had become Qingli’s entire world.
The old residence was small and worn, but over the years she had transformed it into something beautiful.
Wildflowers bloomed along stone pathways.
Medicinal herbs grew in carefully tended gardens, and wind chimes crafted from bamboo swayed gently beneath the eaves.
The neglected courtyard no longer felt abandoned.
It felt alive.
Because Qingli loved it.
Every flower had been planted by her own hands.
Every herb was carefully nurtured, and every corner of the garden was touched by her quiet kindness.
Long ago, she had learned that if nobody else would create happiness for her, she would have to create it herself.
One spring afternoon, Lan Yue found Qingli kneeling beside a patch of herbs.
The young maid carried a basket overflowing with vegetables from the kitchen.
“Miss!”
Qingli looked up, and a bright smile immediately appeared on her face.
“Yue’er,” she replied.
Lan Yue set the basket down and dramatically wiped imaginary sweat from her forehead.
“I fought three kitchen servants and one particularly vicious cook to secure these vegetables.”
Qingli laughed and brushed her hands against the apron tied around her waist.
“You are exaggerating.”
“I am not!” Lan Yue pouted as she crossed her arms and then flared them around.
“The cook guards her cabbages like they’re imperial treasures!”
Qingli’s laughter grew, filling the courtyard with warmth.
Her laugh was light and beautiful.
Lan Yue watched her carefully, smiling softly, as she always felt relieved whenever Qingli laughed.
Despite everything, her mistress still found reasons to smile.
Many people would have become bitter or learned to hate, but Qingli never did.
“Miss,” she said.
Qingli continued sorting herbs and absentmindedly answered, “Hm?”
“Have you ever thought about running away?”
The question caused her hands to pause, and Lan Yue immediately regretted asking.
But Qingli only looked toward the distant walls surrounding the courtyard.
For a long moment, she remained silent.
Then she smiled softly.
“Every day.”
Lan Yue’s eyes widened.
“Really?”
Qingli nodded, “Sometimes I wonder what lies beyond the capital.”
She looked toward the horizon, “I wonder what mountains look like. What rivers look like. What other cities look like.”
A wistful expression appeared on her face, “I wonder what freedom feels like.”
The words hurt more than Lan Yue expected.
Because Qingli spoke the words so gently.
Without resentment and without anger.
As though freedom was simply a beautiful dream she would never touch.
Lan Yue sat beside her and linked her arms around Qingli’s arm.
“If you ever leave, I’ll go with you.”
Qingli laughed and nudged Lan Yue, “What if I tell you to stay?”
“I’ll ignore you.”
“Yue’er.”
“I’m serious.” This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
Lan Yue pointed dramatically to herself, “You are stuck with me forever.”
Qingli smiled, and for a moment, the loneliness faded.
By the time Wen Qingli turned eighteen, she had learned an important lesson.
Expectations only led to disappointment.
As a child, she waited for her mother and father to acknowledge her.
They never did.
She had waited for her sister to accept her.
That acceptance never arrived.
Eventually, Qingli stopped waiting.
Instead, she poured her heart into the things she could control.
Her flowers.
Her books.
Her herbs.
And the small handful of people who genuinely cared about her.
The western courtyard remained her world, but unlike before, it no longer felt like a prison.
It felt like home.
One morning, Qingli sat beneath a flowering apricot tree while carefully reading a medical text.
Several books surrounded her.
A notebook rested in her lap.
Her elegant handwriting filled page after page with observations and copied remedies.
Nearby, Lan Yue sat cross-legged on the grass.
Or rather, she was attempting to sit quietly.
Unfortunately, silence and Lan Yue had never been friends.
The maid dramatically collapsed backward.
“I’m dying.”
Qingli did not look up from her book.
“Again?”
“Yes.”
Lan Yue pressed the back of her hand against her forehead.
“This is a terrible illness.”
Qingli calmly turned a page.
“What are your symptoms?”
“I’m hungry.”
“You finished breakfast.”
“That was hours ago.”
“It was less than one hour ago.”
Lan Yue sat up.
“Miss, you lack compassion.”
Qingli finally laughed, and the sound made Lan Yue grin triumphantly.
“There.”
“What?”
“You smiled.”
Qingli shook her head.
“You are impossible.”
“I know.”
Lan Yue leaned closer.
“It is one of my many charms.”
Before Qingli could answer, hurried footsteps entered the courtyard.
Both women looked up and an elderly servant appeared at the gate.
Old Chen.
The same servant Qingli had been helping for years.
His face was pale and sweat covered his forehead.
Qingli immediately rose to her feet.
“Uncle Chen?”
The old man stumbled and Qingli rushed forward and caught his arm.
“What happened?”
“My chest…”
His breathing was uneven.
“It hurts.”
The smile vanished from Qingli’s face.
Immediately, she shifted into the calm focus she always displayed when helping others.
“Lan Yue.”
“I’m here.”
The maid sprinted away while Qingli carefully guided Old Chen toward a bench beneath the tree.
“Slow breaths.”
The old servant winced.
The pain clearly frightened him.
Qingli placed two fingers against his wrist, feeling for his pulse, observing his complexion, and watching his breathing.
Within moments, her expression softened.
“It’s not your heart.”
Old Chen blinked.
“It isn’t?”
Qingli shook her head.
“You lifted something heavy again.”
The old man immediately looked guilty and turned to look at Lan Yue, who returned carrying the medical bag and set it down next to Qingli.
Qingli opened it and removed several dried herbs.
“How many times have I told you not to carry sacks by yourself?”
Old Chen avoided her gaze.
“The younger servants were busy.”
“You are sixty-three.”
“I am still strong.”
“No.”
Qingli smiled gently.
“You are stubborn.”
Lan Yue snorted and crossed her arms, “That sounds familiar.”
Qingli handed the old man a small herbal packet.
“Boil this tonight.”
Then she looked at him sternly.
“And rest.”
Old Chen nodded obediently.
“Yes, Miss Qingli.”
The old servant accepted the medicine with trembling hands.
His eyes glistened.
“Thank you.”
Qingli looked confused.
“You’ve thanked me already.”
“I know.”
His voice grew emotional.
“But no one has ever cared for us the way you do.”
The courtyard fell silent, and Old Chen lowered his head.
“Many people forget that servants are human.” His voice cracked.
“You never do.”
Qingli didn’t know what to say.
Because to her helping people felt natural.
The thought of ignoring someone in pain had never occurred to her.
Eventually, she smiled.
“Everyone deserves kindness.”
The old servant’s eyes reddened, and he bowed deeply before leaving.
Lan Yue watched him disappear through the gate, then turned back to Qingli, helped her gather her medical supplies, put them back into the bag, and returned the bag to the house.
That evening, as twilight painted the sky in shades of gold and violet, Qingli sat alone beneath the apricot tree.
A gentle breeze rustled through the branches overhead.
Birds sang their final songs before nightfall, and for once, Lan Yue had fallen asleep during embroidery practice.
Her half-finished work rested crookedly in her lap.
Qingli smiled, then she looked upward, toward the sky and beyond the walls.
Beyond House Wen.
Beyond the life she had always known, she wondered what existed out there.
What kind of people might she meet?
What kind of life awaited her beyond these walls?
The feeling had been growing stronger lately.
A quiet longing.
Not for wealth.
Not for status.
Not even for recognition.
Simply for freedom.
For a chance to live openly.
To exist without hiding.
To belong somewhere.
The breeze carried the scent of distant peach blossoms, and Qingli closed her eyes as she breathed in the scent.
Unaware that far beyond the capital, fate was slowly moving.