Rain drummed softly against the tall windows of the Jin estate, turning the manicured gardens outside into watercolor smudges of green and gray. Eight-year-old Jin Leilei sat curled on the grand staircase, her knees hugged tightly to her chest, staring at the line of black umbrellas still clustered by the gates. Her mother's funeral had ended hours ago, but the scent of white chrysanthemums still clung to the air — heavy and suffocating.
Her father, Jin Weisheng, had not shed a single tear.
The very next day, he returned home with another woman. Madam Liu was tall and elegant, her beauty carefully arranged like a prized ornament. She smiled often, but her eyes never warmed. Beside her stood her children: Liu Xinyue, a delicate girl a year younger than Leilei, and Liu An, a boy of twelve whose sharp, assessing gaze made him seem far older.
"They will be your new family," Jin Weisheng said, his voice flat, as though announcing a business deal rather than the reshaping of their lives.
From that moment, the house no longer felt like hers. Her mother's portrait was removed from the main hall and replaced with a polished family photograph — Madam Liu in the center, Jin Weisheng's hand resting on her shoulder, Liu Xinyue smiling sweetly at the camera, Liu An standing tall at his mother's side… and Leilei on the far edge, as if she had been added at the last moment.
At first, Leilei tried. She greeted Madam Liu politely, offered to play with her stepsiblings, and clung to the hope that her father might notice her efforts. But Madam Liu's kindness was an illusion — silk hiding a blade. A misplaced brooch? Leilei was blamed. A shattered vase? Madam Liu's soft voice would suggest, "Perhaps Leilei was upset… it's hard for her to accept us."
Liu Xinyue played the innocent perfectly, while Liu An, with his quiet smirk and calculating eyes, learned quickly how to follow his mother's lead. He never shouted or raised his hand, but his deliberate whispers to their father and subtle manipulation of the servants made Leilei's place in the household even smaller.
Her father never questioned any of it.
By the time Leilei turned sixteen, she had mastered the art of moving silently, speaking only when necessary, and guarding her emotions behind an unreadable mask. The servants sometimes murmured "poor Miss Jin" behind her back, but no one dared defy Madam Liu.
Still, Leilei endured. Her mother had once told her that dignity was a shield — and she would not let them see her fall.