It was Wan Li's first full morning in the Yuan residence.
Not even twenty-four hours had passed since Madam Li first spoke to her in the grand hall. Wan Li had slept only in fragmented pieces — startled awake by phantom explosions, by imagined footsteps, by memories of her mother's voice fading behind collapsing beams.
This morning did not bring peace.
Only awareness.
The palace was gone. Her mother was gone. And this house — cold, unfamiliar, watchful — was now her world.
Wan Li followed Su Yan through the early sunlight, hands clasped tightly as though the gesture could keep her steadier. The air smelled of pine and winter blossoms. Servants were already sweeping, fetching water, carrying baskets of vegetables from the kitchen courtyard.
And every single one of them looked.
Wan Li lowered her head quickly.
She could feel their eyes like stones pressing against her shoulders.
--
Whispers Along the Path
"…that's the girl who arrived yesterday."
"I heard Madam Li wasn't pleased."
"Look how small she is. She'll break if you breathe on her."
"Did she really come from the palace? Doesn't look like a princess."
Wan Li's steps faltered, but Su Yan guided her forward with a light hand at her back.
"Miss," Su Yan whispered, "don't mind them."
Wan Li nodded fast — too fast — her gaze fixed on her own feet.
She didn't understand why hearing whispers hurt so much.
Or why her stomach twisted with embarrassment even though she'd done nothing wrong.
But she remembered her mother's words clearly:
Endure.
Obey.
So, she kept walking.
--
The Side Courtyard
This was their assigned home: a small, quiet corner of the sprawling estate, far from where important people came and went.
A servant girl stood waiting at the veranda.
Her eyes narrowed when they approached.
"You two finally woke up."
Su Yan straightened. "We rose at dawn. We were waiting for instructions."
The girl tossed her hair. "Madam says you are to fetch water, tidy your room, and stay out of sight. No one here has time to look after you."
Wan Li bowed her head sharply. "Y-Yes…"
The girl clicked her tongue. "Speak louder. I can hardly hear whispers."
Wan Li flinched.
"Enough," the servant muttered. "Just remember your place."
She turned and walked away without waiting for a reply.
Wan Li clasped her hands together, fingers trembling faintly.
"Su Yan… I think she dislikes me."
Su Yan sighed softly. "Many here won't understand you, Miss. Give them time."
Wan Li lowered her head further.
She didn't want to be disliked.
But what could she do?
--
Wash Water and a Reflection She Didn't Recognize
A young houseboy delivered a bucket of water by dropping it with a heavy thud outside their door.
He didn't greet them. He didn't look at Wan Li.
He simply dumped the bucket and left.
Wan Li stared at her wavering reflection in the water.
Her hair was neatly braided by Su Yan, but the braid looked too plain. Her dress was clean but rough, far rougher than anything she'd ever worn. Her face looked different too — swollen from crying, pale from fear.
"Miss," Su Yan said gently, "shall we wash your face?"
Wan Li nodded.
The water was shockingly cold. She gasped, wiping her cheeks and forehead slowly.
When she finished, Su Yan studied her carefully. "You look proper."
Wan Li swallowed.
"Proper" used to mean silk robes, manicured hair, and perfect posture.
Now, she was not sure what it meant.
--
Her First Chore
By mid-morning, Auntie Rong — stern, broad-shouldered, with deep grooves around her mouth — arrived to assign Wan Li her first task.
"You'll assist in the laundry hall," Auntie Rong said. "Folding linens. Simple work."
Wan Li bowed quickly. "Y-Yes, Auntie."
It was the first time anyone in the household had given her direct instructions.
Part of her felt relieved.
Someone had told her what to do.
She followed Auntie Rong to the laundry hall, where a dozen maids sat folding cloths into neat stacks. Their chatter stopped the moment Wan Li entered.
Every face turned her way.
Wan Li's breath seized.
A maid whispered too loudly, "She's so tiny."
Another muttered, "She looks like she'll cry."
Auntie Rong cleared her throat sharply. "Enough. Give her a pile."
A maid dropped a stack of linens in front of Wan Li with a thump.
Wan Li knelt, fingers fumbling. She stared at the cloth, trying to remember how the maids beside her were folding theirs.
Edge to edge.
Corner to corner.
Smooth and firm.
She folded her first one.
Crooked.
Her second one.
Too loose.
Her third one… fell apart.
Laughter rose — soft but cutting.
"She really is helpless."
"Even children fold better."
Wan Li's throat tightened painfully. Her eyes blurred.
But she didn't cry.
She kept folding.
Her fourth attempt was better.
Her fifth, almost acceptable.
Her sixth—
A maid snatched it from her hands. "This is wrinkled! Are you doing this wrong on purpose?"
"No—no, I…" Wan Li whispered.
"Speak up!"
Wan Li's shoulders jerked.
Auntie Rong stepped closer. She picked up one of Wan Li's folds, examined it, sighed.
"Not good," she said plainly. "But it can be fixed. Continue."
Wan Li bowed her head again. "Yes, Auntie."
The rest of the task blended into a blur of trembling fingers and stinging humiliation, but she finished the pile.
No one praised her.
But she didn't give up.
--