The wounds took weeks to heal and the scars remained much longer.
For the first few days after the punishment, Qingli could barely sit upright.
Every movement sent burning pain across her back.
Sleeping was difficult.
Breathing hurt.
Even changing her clothes became an ordeal.
Yet she never complained.
Not once.
Which somehow made it worse for everyone around her becauseLan Yue was furious.
Absolutely furious.
She stormed around the western courtyard like a thundercloud.
Servants scattered whenever they saw her approaching.
Even Nanny Zhao wisely avoided certain conversations.
Three days after the whipping, Lan Yue burst into Qingli’s room carrying a tray of medicine and her expression immediately softened when she saw Qingli sitting by the window.
The afternoon sunlight illuminated her mistress’s face while a book rested in her lap.
As usual.
Even injured, Qingli was reading.
“Miss.”
Qingli looked up.
A smile appeared instantly.
“Yue’er.”
Lan Yue set the medicine down.
“You should be resting.”
“I have been resting.”
“You’ve been reading.”
“That is resting.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Qingli laughed quietly and the sound eased some of Lan Yue’s anger.
Only some.
The maid sat beside her.
For a few moments neither spoke and finally Lan Yue blurted out,
“I hate them.”
The room fell silent as Qingli already knew who she meant.
Wen residence.
Her parents.
The people who should have protected her.
“I know.”
Lan Yue’s eyes immediately reddened, “They hurt you.”
Qingli looked down at her book, “Yes.”
The simple answer somehow hurt more and Lan Yue grabbed her hand.
“Why are you never angry?”
Qingli froze because the question caught her off guard.
Why wasn’t she angry?
Perhaps because anger required hope, and she had stopped hoping long ago. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
After a long silence, she answered honestly.
“I was.”
Lan Yue blinked, “What?”
“When I was younger.” Qingli’s voice was soft, “So angry.”
She stared out the window, her voice still soft, so soft that Lan Yue had to really lean in to hear her.
“I used to wonder why Father barely visited.”
“Why Mother wouldn’t look at me.”
“Why Sister hated me.”
Her smile turned sad.
“I cried a lot back then.”
Lan Yue’s heart broke, because Qingli rarely spoke about her childhood.
Rarely spoke about her pain.
“I kept thinking that if I behaved perfectly…” Her voice trembled slightly, “…they would eventually love me.”
The room became silent before Qingli laughed softly.
A bittersweet sound.
“But they never did.”
Lan Yue could no longer hold back her tears and Qingli squeezed her hand.
“So eventually I stopped expecting it.”
The maid looked away.
Because she suddenly understood something terrible.
Qingli wasn’t strong because she felt no pain.
She was strong because she had learned to survive despite it.
Several weeks later, winter arrived, blanketing the capital in snow.
The western courtyard became a shimmering landscape of silver and white.
Qingli’s back had mostly healed from her injuries, though thin lines of various ages remained.
Some scars were old, while others were recent or still healing.
Permanent reminders of her punishment.
The wounds may no longer bled.
But they still hurt, especially on cold mornings.
Qingli sat near the fire grinding herbs when a timid knock sounded at the door and Lan Yue opened it to find a young kitchen maid stood outside.
The girl looked terrified and in her arms was a small bundle.
The same servant child Qingli had saved immediately brightened when he saw her.
“Big Sister Qingli!”
Qingli smiled as the child ran toward her.
Healthy.
Happy.
Alive.
The sight alone made every lash worthwhile.
His mother quickly bowed, “We came to thank you.”
Qingli shook her head and took the young mother’s hand, “You already did.”
“Not properly.”
The woman carefully placed a small cloth bundle on the table and open the small bundle to reveal several steamed buns.
Simple.
Probably expensive for a servant family, and Qingli immediately tried to refuse.
“You should keep these.”
The woman shook her head firmly, “No.” Her eyes filled with tears, “You saved my son.”
The little boy nodded enthusiastically and smile brightly at Qingli, “You saved me.”
Qingli smiled helplessly and the child suddenly hugged her.
Without warning.
Without hesitation.
The room froze.
Because physical affection was rare in Qingli’s life.
Very rare.
The boy looked up at her, “Mother says heroes help people.” He grinned, “So you’re a hero.”
Qingli’s eyes widened before unexpected tears appeared.
The child panicked immediately.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No.” She quickly wiped her eyes with a tiny laugh, “Not at all.”
The little boy relaxed, then smiled again.
And at that moment, something inside Qingli healed.
Not completely.
Not enough.
But a little.
Because for the first time in a very long time, someone looked at her and saw something good.
Not a burden.
Not a mistake.
Not a hidden daughter.
A hero.
That evening, after the visitors left, Qingli stood alone in the courtyard watching snowflakes drift softly from the sky.
The world felt quiet.
Peaceful.
She tilted her face upward and allowed cold flakes to land on her skin and for the first time since the punishment, she felt genuinely happy.
Behind her, Lan Yue watched silently, then she smiled.
Because she had finally realized something.
Wen residence could whip Qingli.
Ignore her.
Reject her.
Hide her.
But they could never change who she was.
They could never destroy her kindness.
And one day, someone would recognize that kindness for the treasure it truly was.
Far beyond the capital walls, a young general had another victorious campaign.
A man whose path had not yet crossed hers.
A man who had survived countless battles.
A man who had long since forgotten what peace felt like.