The silence in the hall was a quiet, suffocating thing.
Shen Ruhai looked at his eldest daughter with a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. This wasn't the same girl he remembered—brash, spoiled, impulsive. The young woman kneeling before him now… was calm, sharp-tongued, and terrifyingly controlled.
"Very well," he said at last, his voice grave. "Since you've admitted your wrong, you'll copy the Classic of Filial Piety fifty times and remain confined to your courtyard for the next month. You're not to step beyond your doors unless summoned. Do you understand?"
Shen Yuhan lowered her head in obedience. "Yes, Father."
From beside him, Shen Yulan took a half-step forward. "Father, please don't punish Sister so harshly—"
"Enough." Shen Ruhai waved his hand, though his tone lacked anger. "Your kindness is noted, but this matter is closed. Don't speak of it again."
Shen Yulan's expression faltered for a brief second before she bit her lip and retreated with her head lowered.
Lin Zixuan frowned slightly but said nothing. His eyes lingered on Shen Yuhan, unreadable.
Qi Xianzhao chuckled under his breath and looked thoroughly entertained. "Truly sisters—one cold, one kind. Shen family drama never disappoints."
Shen Ruhai gave him a sharp look, but Qi Xianzhao only bowed politely, completely unfazed.
With a flick of his sleeve, Shen Ruhai stood. "Dismissed."
As the officials and nobles began to exit the hall, Shen Yuhan slowly rose to her feet.
Her knees ached from the stone floor, but she didn't let it show. Her back remained straight, her chin slightly lifted.
As she turned to leave, Lin Zixuan blocked her path.
"I know you don't like her," he said softly, his expression complex, "but Yulan really did worry for you."
Shen Yuhan paused, then raised an eyebrow. "Did she?"
"She begged your father not to punish you. She cried for you, Yuhan."
Shen Yuhan's gaze turned frosty. "If I remember correctly, in the original novel, she also cried after she shoved me into the pond and accused me of pushing her. She also begged my father to forgive me. So sincere, so fragile… as though she weren't the one holding the knife in the first place."
Lin Zixuan blinked. "What did you say?"
"Nothing," Shen Yuhan said lightly. "It's just a dream I had while I was in the pond."
She brushed past him, her expression indifferent.
But as she stepped outside the grand hall, the sun hit her face, warm and bright—and she felt, truly for the first time since waking in this strange new life, that she wasn't just surviving.
She was playing the game now.
And this time, she would win.
As she walked away, a small figure quietly fell into step beside her. It was her loyal maid, A-Xiu, who had been waiting by the corridor.
"Miss," A-Xiu whispered nervously. "Are you… alright?"
Shen Yuhan glanced at her and smiled faintly. "A-Xiu, help me prepare brush, ink, and the Classic of Filial Piety. It's been a while since I copied anything."
"Yes, Miss!" A-Xiu replied, relieved. "And your medicine—should I bring it now?"
"Don't bother," Shen Yuhan replied casually. "It'll only go to waste. I'm not really sick, after all."
She glanced toward the inner courtyard, where plum blossoms were beginning to bloom, pink and proud even in the biting cold.
"Let the little white lotus enjoy her moment," she said softly. "I'll let her bloom freely for a while. But soon…"
Her voice trailed off, and a sharp glint passed through her eyes.
"She'll find out what it feels like to drown for real."
—
That night, the Shen residence was unusually quiet.
The servants walked on eggshells, whispering about the drama that had unfolded during the day. Some sympathized with the second young miss Shen Yulan, praising her kindness and gentleness. Others, though fewer, wondered if the eldest miss had truly changed after her brush with death.
In her courtyard, Shen Yuhan sat under a lantern's warm glow, brush in hand. Her wrist moved with practiced ease, black ink bleeding into the rice paper in elegant strokes.
The Classic of Filial Piety. Fifty times.
She'd done worse.
In her previous life, she had once memorized the entirety of a secret government dossier in three hours before burning it. Compared to that, copying a few scrolls was mere finger exercise.
A-Xiu knelt quietly by her side, changing out the ink and adding fresh paper when needed. Occasionally, she snuck glances at her mistress—this calm, composed version of her that had emerged after falling into the pond.
She was no longer the irritable, unreasonable eldest miss they all feared and mocked behind closed doors. No—this young lady was terrifying in a different way. Cold, sharp, and quietly powerful.
A-Xiu felt a chill just watching her.
After finishing the tenth scroll, Shen Yuhan flexed her fingers and set the brush down. "A-Xiu, fetch me a record of the Shen family's internal accounts."
A-Xiu blinked. "Accounts?"
"Yes," Shen Yuhan said with a faint smile. "Let's see just how generous Father has been with his daughters. I'd like to compare what I've received all these years with what the 'innocent' little white lotus has been getting behind my back."
A-Xiu hesitated, then nodded quickly. "Yes, Miss."
As the girl scurried off, Shen Yuhan leaned back in her seat, staring up at the night sky.
She'd only been in this world for a day, but she already knew the rules here were different.
This wasn't the battlefield she was used to, but it was no less deadly.
Instead of guns and knives, this place had sharp tongues, clever traps, and delicate masks. And if she wanted to survive—no, win—she'd have to master the game faster than anyone else.
"I was trained to kill people like you," she whispered into the wind, speaking not just to Shen Yulan, but to every false smile, every treacherous heart waiting behind silk screens and painted faces.
She stood, gazing out at the plum blossoms swaying gently in the breeze.
The game had only just begun.
And she had a thousand ways to win.