When Qing and Lin Yue arrived in Yong County, there was almost nothing. The estate was empty in spirit, the servants ignoring them completely. Lin Yue's small hands clutched the folds of her dress. She said nothing, just looked on blankly.
Qing stepped forward, her voice tight. "You must provide for her. She is a young miss of the Shen family!"
The servants bent over in laughter. "A young miss?" one sneered. "Shes illegitimate, who even cares?" They shook their heads and turned away, leaving both girls standing there in silence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~♡
Days passed.
Qing went to the market with Lin Yue; there was no other choice but to humble herself to beg for food. Lin Yue stayed close to Qing, holding onto Qing's clothes tightly.
The people at the market ignored them. Qing tried for hours, but no one was willing to spare a cursed illegitimate daughter and her scruffy maid some food.
"What about the woods?" Lin Yue said quietly.
Qing nodded. "Let's try."
Together, they trudged to the woods, making crude traps, scraping together whatever plants they could, learning how the world could turn without mercy.
On one particularly hard day, an older woman appeared in the woods; her eyes were soft but strong.She carried a basket of herbs.
"What are you two doing out here?"
"We need food," Qing said. "The servants at my mistress's estate won't provide for her."
She watched them for a while, then shook her head. "Come with me. You cannot live like this."
Her name was Aunt Rong.
Back at the house, she did not tiptoe. She bickered loudly with the servants, her voice loud and demanding. "Do you hear me? You will provide for these children. Now!"
After days of yelling, the servants could only comply.
And more than anything, Aunt Rong treated Lin Yue and Qing as if they were her own.
She pressed warmth into the cold corners of the house, taught them what herbs could do, shared meals that smelled of love and care, she listened to Lin Yue with patience, letting her feel seen.
~~~~~~~~♡
By fourteen, Shen Lin Yue had grown into her beauty the way frost settles on winter branches: cold and beautiful.
Her hair fell straight and dark. Her eyes were steady, they missed nothing, holding the weight of the years spent learning to survive.
At the village market, whispers followed her.
"There she goes, a walking omen."
"Don't speak to her shes dangerous I heard her mother died by being near her."
Lin Yue didn't run away. She paid them no mind and kept walking, taking note of every glance, every murmur.
*Every look is a lesson, I cannot forget that.*
Girls in the market would drop goods as she passed, letting apples roll under carts and perfectly good food go to waste.
Their mothers whispered to one another, faces tight with fear and amusement, they all knew her story.
Lin Yue bent once, picking the fruit up, and returned it, her eyes never wavering. The laughter stopped, so did the loud gossip, swallowed by something in her eyes they could not name.
*I don't need them to like me. I only need to exist and survive this moment.*
Another time, a group of servant boys blocked her path near the well.
"Careful," one snickered, "don't let her shadow touch you."
"My mother says her birth star burns houses down," another mumbled.
Lin Yue's gaze remained calm. *Stay still, show no fear. Don't give them a foothold.* "Does it?" she replied.
They paused; one spat at her feet. "No one even wants you," he muttered, they all walked off together.
A hot flare of anger rose, but Lin Yue caught it before it escaped.
*This feeling is theirs to carry, not mine. I won't let them drag me down.*
Qing wanted to step forward to protect her. Lin Yue lifted a hand and shook her head. "It's not worth it."
*Small people like to drag others down with them. Let them fall into their own pits.*
When they arrived home, Auntie Rong pressed a bowl of steaming broth into Lin Yue's hands. "You must not listen to insects," she said firmly.
"Insects can still bite," Qing said with a frown.
Lin Yue stirred the broth slowly with a smile. "They bite only because they are small," she said softly.
*Am I allowed to feel this warmth?*
She thought, lifting the bowl, letting the steam curl against her face.
*Does being safe mean I can be happy, or will it vanish as soon as I let myself believe it?*
Auntie Rong pressed a hand to her shoulder. "You must not let the world decide what you are."
Qing nodded in agreement. Lin Yue nodded slowly. She had survived this far, but even in ahome filled with love, she felt a hollow tug, an echo of being unseen, of being alone even when surrounded by care.
~~~~~~~~~~~~♡
The late autumn sun was pale, casting long shadows across the ground. Lin Yue sat on a low stool, a pile of mud-caked roots in her lap. Beside her, Aunt Rong was focused, her knife flicking through the skin of a ginger root with practiced hands.
Lin Yue held up a piece of monkshood. It was gnarled and dark it looked like a shrivelled finger. "This one is ugly," she murmured. "It looks like it belongs in the dirt."
Aunty Rong didn't look up, just chuckled. "Most things that can save a life, or take one don't look like silk and plum blossoms, Yue'er. The pretty ones are for the poets. The bitter ones are for the survivors."
Lin Yue's fingers traced the rough texture. "Mother liked the pretty ones. She used to wear jasmine in her hair..." She trailed off, her voice dropping off into silence.
Aunty Rong stopped cutting. The silence between them wasn't the heavy, suffocating kind of silence; it was a waiting silence. She reached into her basket and pulled out a small, dried apricot, pressing it into Lin Yue's palm.
"Eat," Aunt Rong said gently.
Lin Yue bit into it with a puzzled expression.
*Why is Aunty giving me fruit? Is there some purpose?*
The sweetness hit her tongue. For a moment, she forgot to watch the perimeter of the woods. She forgot the way the servants sneered at her. She felt the warmth of the wood beneath her and the simple, uncomplicated sugar of the fruit.
She started to smile. A small, genuine curve of the lips.
Then, the reflex hit.
Her breath hitched. Her eyes darted around the courtyard, then to the knife in Aunt Rong's hand, then to the shadows under the eaves.
Her posture stiffened. The sweetness in her mouth suddenly tasted like something she didn't deserve.
*Who is watching?*
Aunt Rong's hand, calloused and smelling of earth, settled on Lin Yue's shoulder.
"You're waiting for the blow," Aunt Rong said quietly.
"It always comes," Lin Yue whispered, her gaze fixed on the dirt. "If you are happy, you are distracted. If you are distracted, you are dead."
"Outside, perhaps," Aunt Rong said, her voice dropping to a low growl. "But here, I am the wall between you and the wind. Look at me."
Lin Yue lifted her head to meet Aunt Rong's eyes. Aunt Rong's eyes weren't soft; they were fierce. They held the kind of love that felt like a shield.
"You think you are a girl made of glass, waiting to shatter."
"You are not. You are the monkshood. You are the bitter root that grows in the dark, but even a root needs to drink the rain, Yue'er. If you don't let yourself feel the sun, you'll turn to dust before you ever get your chance to strike back."
Lin Yue looked at the dried apricot, then back at the woman who had fought the servants for her.
"I don't know how," Lin Yue admitted, her voice trembling. "I don't know how to stop watching."
"Then watch me," Aunt Rong replied, returning to her roots.
"Watch how I stand. Watch how I don't flinch when the wind rattles the door. Safety isn't the absence of danger, Yue'er."
Lin Yue picked up her knife. She didn't relax, but she didn't break either. She began to peel the monkshood, her movements mimicking Aunt Rong's.
"I understand," Lin Yue said.
She didn't finish the apricot. She tucked the remaining half into her pocket. It was a reminder. She wasn't ready to be happy, but she was ready to be powerful.