Ning Zhen observed the room in silence.
Everything in Lin Qingyu’s bedroom looked unfamiliar, yet somehow felt familiar.
She saw a mirror that reflected her face far too clearly.
In Azura, ordinary people used thin, round pieces of polished metal that only gave a blurred reflection.
The bed and pillows in this room were also far softer than she had expected.
Even the lighting in this house did not come from fire or qi lanterns.
Something called electricity surfaced among Qingyu’s memories.
But Ning Zhen was not focused on comparing worlds right now.
This was the room where Qingyu had spent most of her time in silence, her little prison.
The room was too simple for a young girl from a wealthy family.
There was a bed, a study desk, a wardrobe, a small shelf, and a mirror hanging on the wall.
It carried the careful order of someone afraid of causing trouble.
Ning Zhen stood beside the study desk and lightly brushed her fingers over its surface.
A thin layer of dust clung to her fingertips.
The desk was not dirty, it felt like it had not truly been used for a long time.
She opened the first drawer.
Inside were only a few blank sheets of paper, a pen whose ink had run dry, and a thin notebook with several back pages torn out unevenly.
Ning Zhen touched the torn edges.
They were rough, as if the pages had been ripped out by force.
Lin Qingyu’s memory surfaced.
Lin Xue flipped through the pages with a bored expression before tearing out several sheets at once.
“Stop dreaming,” she said with a mocking tone.
“You don’t even have talent.
A book like this is just a waste of time.”
Lin Qingyu had only stood silently beside the bed.
Her hands clenched weakly at her sides, but she did not dare take the book back.
She did not even cry.
Perhaps because crying would only have made Lin Xue happier.
Ning Zhen closed the drawer, her gaze turned a little colder.
Children here could be just as cruel as disciples in Azura.
The difference was that in Azura, cruelty was often carried out with swords and cultivation techniques.
Here, it could take the form of small words repeated every day until a person forgot how to stand upright.
Ning Zhen’s gaze shifted toward the corner of the room.
There, several old herbal books were well arranged beside Qingyu’s university textbooks.
Unlike the other things in the room that looked somewhat neglected, those books were clean and well kept.
Their covers were old, but they had not been allowed to fall apart.
It was the only part of the room that felt alive.
Ning Zhen walked over and picked up one of the books.
The moment she opened the first page, the faint scent of old paper drifted out.
A mature woman’s handwriting filled the page, neat and methodical.
In several sections, there were drawings of roots, leaves, and plant stems made in black ink.
This was Lin Qingyu’s mother’s notes.
Ning Zhen’s finger stopped above one of the leaf drawings.
A small memory entered her mind.
Little Qingyu stood inside the greenhouse while holding a small pot.
A gentle-looking woman crouched in front of her, guiding her tiny fingers to touch a peppermint leaf.
“This leaf feels cool when you touch it, but its properties can calm the stomach and the mind,” the woman said tenderly.
“Every plant has its own nature.
If you want to understand it, don’t only look at its shape.
Feel its scent, its texture, and the way it grows.”
Little Qingyu nodded seriously, though she did not truly understand yet.
The memory then faded.
Ning Zhen looked at the page in her hand for a little longer.
For some reason, she could read the writing.
Qingyu’s memories made the writing easy to understand.
The knowledge was there, even if the memories were not truly hers.
She turned several more pages.
Most of the notes were about ordinary plants in this world.
Their names, leaf shapes, cultivation methods, basic uses, and several simple herbal recipes.
Ning Zhen closed the book carefully.
She was not Lin Qingyu.
But she respected this small inheritance.
One day, it might be useful.
She placed the book back where it had been.
After that, she stood in front of the small mirror hanging on the wall.
The reflection staring back at her was Lin Qingyu’s face.
It was thin and pale, with dull hair clinging to her cheeks.
Her lips had little color.
Her collarbones showed too obvious beneath her worn clothes.
There was no beauty left in a body that had been neglected for too long.
Only the face of someone who had endured alone until her final breath.
But now, the eyes looking out from Lin Qingyu’s face no longer held the same resignation.
Within them was a depth this young girl should never have possessed.
“This body isn’t as bad as I thought,” she murmured.
“What destroyed it wasn’t only hunger, but something else.”
Her thoughts shifted to the tea Lady Su always prepared.
That tea was most likely not a strong poison that killed fast.
A strong poison would be too easy to trace.
The poison had been designed to weaken the body slowly.
Weak enough to look like natural illness, yet prolonged enough to destroy the body from within.
Ning Zhen tried to take a deeper breath.
The muscles in her chest still ached, but not as badly as before.
This body had become a bit more stable thanks to the Fire Tuber and the touch of qi from the Purple Dragon Stone.
She touched the pulse point on her neck.
The beat was steadier than it had been before dawn, even though it was not normal yet.
She slowly moved her shoulders, then her neck, elbows, and wrists.
All her joints felt stiff and sore.
It was not surprising because this body had been weak for too long, and had lain down too often, rarely been used properly.
If she wanted to recover, she could not rely only on qi.
She needed food, sleep, exercise, and time.
Ning Zhen returned to sit at the edge of the bed.
She straightened her back, placed both hands on her knees, and began regulating her breathing.
The first breath was short, then the second was slightly steadier.
And by the third, she began opening a small flow of qi inside her body.
A little heat from the Fire Tuber still remained, and she could circulate it toward certain points.
The energy was weak, but enough to serve as a spark.
She did not use the White Dragon Technique fully.
This body could not endure it yet.
If she forced it, Lin Qingyu’s already cracked meridians might completely collapse.
Because of that, Ning Zhen chose the simplest method from basic cultivation training, the Basic Recovery Technique.
This technique did not pursue an increase in power.
Its purpose was only to stabilize the blood, improve breathing, and help the body recognize safe energy pathways.
She closed her eyes, then carefully guided the heat from her lower abdomen toward the left and right sides of her ribs.
From there, she let the small current move toward the pathways in her arms.
When the qi touched blocked areas, pain rose like fine thorns piercing from within.
Ning Zhen did not force it.
She withdrew the flow slightly, redirected it through another pathway, and searched for a safer gap.
She guided the small heat toward the base of her neck, down again to her chest, then to her abdomen.
The cycle was slow, but stable.
Lin Qingyu’s body responded better than she expected.
It felt like this body had truly been waiting for the right energy to awaken it again.
Several minutes later, Ning Zhen opened her eyes.
A thin layer of sweat covered her forehead, but the heaviness in her chest had eased somewhat.
She decided to stop there.
Recovering this body required patience, not greed.
Her first goal was not to become strong in a single day, but to keep this body alive until Qingyu’s father returned.
After that, she needed to hide every sign that this body had just experienced something no ordinary human mind could explain.
Now it was time to clean herself.
Ning Zhen glanced at the small door beside the wardrobe.
Qingyu’s memories told her it was the bathroom.
When she was inside, Ning Zhen looked at the small white-tiled room with restrained curiosity.
This world truly was strange.
Water could come out just by turning a metal handle.
A mirror was neatly attached to the wall.
There were bottles filled with fragrant liquids used to clean the body and hair.
No servant prepared hot water.
There was no stove or heating stone, yet warm water could still flow.
She also saw something.
Her brows furrowed.
A moment later, Qingyu’s memories told her it was used for relieving oneself.
“Hmm… toi-let?”
Ning Zhen studied everything for a while before following Qingyu’s memories to use it.
When warm water touched her skin, this body almost trembled in relief.
The scent of soap and shampoo was very pleasant.
In Azura, such a clean fragrance might have been considered a luxury by many noblewomen.
The dust from the storage room, the cold sweat, and the smell of soil from the greenhouse finally disappeared.
Lin Qingyu’s dull hair became lighter after being washed.
Several faint bruises were visible on her arms and shoulders, some already fading, others still quite fresh.
Ning Zhen looked at the bruises without expression.
They were not marks from being hit, but old effects of poison.
Their pattern followed specific pathways in the body.
After cleaning herself, Ning Zhen came out of the bathroom feeling slightly fresher.
She opened the small wardrobe in the corner of the room.
Lin Qingyu’s clothes were arranged neatly.
They were simple and almost completely without luxury.
Some were very worn.
Others looked like old clothes chosen without any real concern for whether the wearer liked them.
The clothing styles of this world still felt foreign to her.
In Azura, clothing had long layers of fabric, belts, outer robes, and embroidery that showed one’s sect or bloodline.
Here, the cuts were simpler and more practical, but they also felt too revealing for her taste.
Ning Zhen chose the cleanest clothes she could find.
A pale blue blouse and loose cream-colored pants.
She stared at them for a moment.
Once, she had worn the White Dragon Robe, spiritual fabric sewn with threads of light that could not be easily stained by blood or dust.
Now, she wore the cheap clothes of a girl no one valued.
The difference meant little to her.
Clothes did not determine who stood inside them.
She changed without hurry.
The fabric was a little rough and itchy against her skin, but it was far better than the clothes that had been clinging to her body before.
Afterward, she picked up a small black hair tie from the desk and tied her hair back.
The result was not especially neat, but it was presentable enough for a wealthy family’s daughter who had just recovered from illness.
She then walked to the window and opened the curtain.
Morning light entered, falling across her pale face.
Ning Zhen looked at her faint reflection in the window glass.
This world knew her as Lin Qingyu.
And starting today, she had no intention of denying it.
The name Ning Zhen had to be buried deep inside her.
In this world, that name could not appear carelessly.
“I am still Ning Zhen,” she said softly.
“But I will bury that name deep.”
She closed the curtain and turned around.
Both her hands opened in front of her body.
Those fingers were still thin and weak, and clenching too tightly made her joints ache.
Even so, Ning Zhen curled them into fists.
“From today onward, I am Lin Qingyu.”
The words were quiet in the silent room.
But to Ning Zhen, they were enough.
Her next step was to stay in this house without drawing too much attention.
More importantly, she needed to know what kind of person Lin Qingyu’s father truly was.
Ning Zhen lay down on the bed.
This body needed rest.
For now, she would stay quiet, observe, and learn.
Then, at some point, they would realize Lin Qingyu had changed.