The days before departure passed like a slow-burning fuse.
Elara spent each morning in preparation. Her suitcase was already packed—clothes folded with military precision, documents organized into color-coded folders, and the official letter from the Hangzhou Institute laminated and tucked safely into the side pocket.
But the calm was deceptive.
Every shadow in the Lin estate seemed deeper. Every look from her siblings, sharper. Every whisper from the staff lingered longer than it should have.
Something was coming.
---
It arrived two days before her flight.
"Elara," her father said over breakfast, not looking at her. "You're to attend the farewell event at your school tomorrow. The board insisted all graduating students make an appearance."
Elara lowered her tea calmly. "I wasn't on the guest list. Meilin said it was for those continuing within the provincial elite universities."
"There's been an exception," he said coolly. "Someone pulled strings on your behalf."
She narrowed her eyes. "Who?"
He didn't answer.
But she had a feeling.
It wasn't kindness.
It was a setup.
---
The next day, she arrived at the school auditorium wearing a modest blue dress, her hair pulled into a neat braid. The building smelled of floor wax and old microphones. Banners lined the walls: "Youth and Future — Together Toward Excellence!"
The moment she entered, the conversations halted.
Students turned. Teachers froze mid-step.
It was clear: no one expected her here.
No one wanted her here.
A teacher approached with a clipboard, fake smile barely clinging to his face.
"Miss Lin," he said. "Please wait backstage. Your speech is last."
Elara blinked. "Speech?"
"Yes, well… Headmaster Qiao said you had something prepared. Something about... your family's legacy?"
Her mouth went dry.
They wanted her to say something that would tie her back to the Lin name. Force her to acknowledge them publicly. Or—more likely—trap her into saying something they could twist later.
"I wasn't informed," she said carefully.
"Then improvise," the teacher said, already walking away.
Behind the curtain, Elara found Meilin and two of her friends whispering furiously in the corner. Meilin's face was pale—either from nerves or hatred.
Probably both.
Zian was there too, speaking to a man in a suit. Governmental. Not school-related.
This is bigger than I thought, she realized.
They weren't trying to humiliate her.
They were trying to stain her name permanently, to the point where Hangzhou would be forced to rescind the offer.
---
An hour later, she stood under the bright lights of the stage.
The crowd was filled with students, faculty, alumni, and even local reporters.
Elara took the mic.
Her heart was steady.
Her gaze, like ice.
"Some of you may know me as the 'forgotten daughter' of the Lin family," she began. "Some of you believed stories that I was fragile, jealous, or dangerous."
Murmurs.
Good. Let them react.
"I was never any of those things. I was simply quiet—and quiet people are easy to blame. Easy to shape into villains."
She glanced at Meilin.
"But villains... have a way of surviving."
Now silence.
"I have no legacy to honor except my own. I leave not as a daughter of privilege, but as someone who fought for every inch of truth I could carve out of this world."
Then she smiled.
"And if that threatens you, then I'm doing something right."
When she left the stage, the crowd wasn't clapping.
They were stunned.
Exactly as planned.
---
After the event, she was stopped by Headmaster Qiao in the hallway.
"You're lucky the invitation wasn't revoked," he said sharply.
"I was never going to let it be," Elara replied.
He scowled. "There are eyes on you now. The kind that don't blink."
"I'll make them wish they had."
---
That night, another letter came. Slipped under her bedroom door, sealed with no wax this time—just a black thread wrapped around the paper.
It read:
> "Truth makes you powerful, but power makes you a target. Watch your back in Hangzhou. You're not the only one who's been reborn."
Elara stared at the words long into the night.
Was it metaphor?
Or something more literal?
Someone knew.
Someone like her.
And she wasn't sure if they were a warning—or a rival.
---
The morning of her departure, her family gathered out front.
Their father said nothing.
Their mother offered a stiff nod.
Meilin didn't show her face.
Zian gave a mocking smile. "Don't fall apart out there without your safety net."
Elara turned to him, a cool smile on her lips.
"Some of us don't fall. We learn how to fly."
She climbed into the black car waiting at the curb, one small suitcase and a carry-on beside her.
The driver closed the door.
As the house disappeared behind tinted glass, Elara felt something loosen inside her chest.
Not peace.
Not freedom.
But momentum.
---
She would arrive in Hangzhou in five hours.
She had two days to settle in before orientation.
She still didn't know where her childhood friend was, or even if he was alive—but the voice inside her whispered:
You're close.
The promise she made long ago remained etched in her soul:
"I'll learn medicine. I'll find a way to heal you. No matter how long it takes."
Now, she was finally walking the path she forged across lifetimes.
And she wasn't walking alone anymore.
She was stepping into destiny—with fire in her heart, and vengeance in her blood.