The snow had begun to fall again, thin flakes dancing under the dying glow of the lanterns as Shen Yuhan walked down the long, winding corridor that led back to her courtyard.
Her every step left a trail of wet footprints, and yet her spine remained straight as a blade, her head held high.
The bitter chill clung to her soaked clothes, but she didn't shiver. Compared to the ice-cold waters of the sea she'd drowned in—or the betrayal that had sent her into that abyss—this cold was nothing.
In her previous life, Shen Yuhan had faced bullets, knives, and poisons. She had pulled herself out of hell with her bare hands. Did they really think a scheming stepsister and a room full of self-righteous fools would break her?
She raised her eyes to the grey sky.
This world was a story.
And she would become its editor.
Past the hall's shadow, a figure darted forward from beneath the eaves.
"Eldest Miss!" A young girl around fifteen, wearing servant's dress called her out. Her soft cry was taut with worry. The little maid all but launched herself at Shen Yuhan, holding up a thick fur-lined cloak with trembling hands. "You'll freeze—why didn't you call for me? That wretched girl dragged you out again, didn't she?! I swear, if I see her—"
Shen Yuhan lifted a brow. "Will you push her into the pond in return?"
"I-I…" Ming'er faltered, ears flushing red. "I'd think about it…"
That earned a small huff of laughter from Shen Yuhan. "Good girl."
Silent fell between them. Then...
"What's your name?" Shen Yuhan asked suddenly, pausing in her step.
The maid blinked in surprise. "M-Ming'er, Miss…"
Ming'er. Right. The original Shen Yuhan's had only two loyal servants inside the Shen household. Ming'er was one of them-she took a knife for her and died quietly in the background, not even granted a full sentence.
Shen Yuhan looked at the small girl. Her hands were raw from the cold, her thin frame barely enough to hold the weight of the cloak.
"From now on," she said, voice low, "stay close to me. If I live, you live."
Ming'er's eyes widened. "Miss?"
She shrugged into the cloak without responding, allowing Ming'er to tug the wet sleeves free. The familiar weight of warmth, of someone fussing over her with genuine concern—it grounded her more than she expected.
"Where's Ah Zhu?" she asked about her other maid as they passed the side gate.
"In your rooms, waiting with ginger soup," Ming'er replied, peeking up with worry. "She was going to storm into the hall herself if I hadn't stopped her."
"You did a good job." Shen Yuhan patted her head, praising her.
At her mistress's praise, Ming'er ducked her head shyly.
Osmanthus Courtyard...
The warmth of Osmanthus Courtyard was a stark contrast to the cold indifference that ruled the rest of the Shen estate. The moment Shen Yuhan stepped over the threshold, the scent of crushed ginger and jujube wafted through the air.
"Miss!" A plump figure surged forward with surprising speed for her age. Ah Zhu's round face was flushed with worry as she immediately took Shen Yuhan's hand. "Your fingers are like ice! That beast of a woman had you kneeling all this time, didn't she? Her heart must be carved from stone!"
Without waiting for permission, Ah Zhu led her to the small heated couch by the brazier and tucked a soft blanket over her knees. Ming'er poured a bowl of hot soup and handed it over with both hands.
"I'm fine," Shen Yuhan said mildly, though her voice was rougher than before. She took a sip, then another, letting the heat soothe her throat.
"Fine?" Ah Zhu snorted, eyes shining with unshed tears. "When you were five, you caught a chill and coughed for a month. Your mother had to send someone all the way to Hangzhou for medicine. Now no one in this house even brings you a hand warmer—and you're supposed to pretend it's normal?"
In her response, Shen Yuhan didn't say anything. It was as Ah Zhu said, the original Shen Yuhan's body was really weak and frail since young.
Seeing her young mistress go silent, Ah Zhu realized that she accidentally mentioned Late Madam and thought her young mistress was missing her mother in her weak moment.
She secretly nudged Ming'er who was beside her. Ming'er looked up and blinked as if asking- what?
Ah Zhu: Go, speak with miss. Distract her thoughts.
Ming'er as if understanding the silent order from Ah Zhu immediately stepped forward.
"Mi-Miss, your clothes are wet. I've already prepared a hot bath, why don't you take a bath first before we talk?" Stuttering, Ming'er suggested.
Shen Yuhan agreed silently, her muscles still aching from kneeling. She nodded.
After an hour, Shen Yuhan had stripped off her soaked clothes and changed into clean, warm robes.
Only then did she sit down before the bronze mirror on the vanity table.
The face that stared back at her was delicate and pale, still showing the remnants of cold and exhaustion. The body she now inhabited was frailer than her original one, soft from years of pampering.
But the eyes in the mirror?
Those were hers.
Sharp. Cold. Watchful.
This world thought it had cast her as a side character.
A villainess to be pitied and then discarded.
But Shen Yuhan had no intention of dying again.
Not here. Not for anyone's entertainment.
She would not play the villain. And she would not beg for scraps of sympathy.
She would flip the board and become the hand that moved the pieces.
A bitter silence settled for a moment. Shen Yuhan lowered her lashes, "Ah Zhu, you came with Mother when she married into the Shen family, didn't you? You've been with her since childhood. Say, if Mother would see her daughter being bullied by the Shen Family to this state, would she be unhappy?" Shen Yuhan didn't know why but strangely, she wanted to know if her mother in this world would have loved her instead of abandoning her like her own mother did, in the real world.
"This-" Hearing Shen Yuhan's questions, Ah Zhu was stunned for a moment before coming back to her senses. "Yes. Madam would have been very sad if she would have known about how this Shens treat her precious daughter. Even before marriage, Madam had always wanted a cute and chubby daughter to play with. When choosing for her Dowry set, she chose everything of premium quality so that most of those dowry could be used by you when you were of age. Shops, lands, she acquired many assets to include in your dowry when you came of age. However..." As the painful memories were recounted, Ah Zhu choked on her words.
"There was a pair of white jade bracelets," Ah Zhu added with a sniff. "Madam said they'd be perfect for you on your wedding day. 'Not too flashy,' she said, 'but clear as moonlight. For my daughter's first love.' She tucked them into the dowry chest herself."
As Shen Yuhan heard her words, her heart surged with a warm feeling, but soon it turned colder, "My mother's dowry wasn't meant to keep their hands warm, yet they act as if it was gifted to them by the heavens."
At that, both Ah Zhu and Ming'er stiffened.
"So," Ah Zhu said slowly, "you do know."
Shen Yuhan met her gaze evenly. "I've seen the ledgers." She had read it in the novel-the truth buried in the ledgers.
Ah Zhu sat down heavily beside her. "That witch Su Wanning didn't even wait a year after your mother's passing. She clawed her way to the head seat with a fake smile, and Master closed his eyes, blinded by his love. But you were just a child back then—how could you understand what was being taken from you?"
"I understand now."
Shen Yuhan's voice was soft, but something cold and ancient stirred beneath it.
Ming'er looked uneasy. "Miss, they'll never let you take anything back. They'll just find ways to call you unfilial. Even the steward listens to Madam Su now…"
Shen Yuhan's lips curved faintly, but the smile didn't reach her eyes.
"Then I'll simply have to take what's mine so quietly that by the time they notice, it'll be too late. The board is set. The pieces are moving. And I've already claimed the first corner."
Outside the Osmanthus Courtyard, the snow still fell—soft, relentless, silent.
But inside, the fire had already been lit.