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 Young 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."
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 in confusion. "Miss?"
Shen Yuhan 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.
"Young 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 had 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.
On the other hand, inside Shen Yulan's courtyard, the Orchid Pavilion...
After gently placing Shen Yulan onto her bed, Lin Zhixuan turned sharply to the maidservants, his voice clipped with urgency.
"Where is the physician? How much longer will it take?"
Xiao Yan, Shen Yulan's head maid, immediately dropped to her knees, her face pale with fear.
"Young Master Lin, Xiao Ying has already gone to fetch the physician. They should arrive at any moment."
Before he could respond, the doors swung open, and Madam Su entered in a rush, Shen Zhirui close behind.
The moment Madam Su caught sight of her daughter's pale, fevered face, her expression crumbled. She stumbled to the bedside, voice choked with grief.
"My poor Yulan… It's all my fault. If only I had protected you better..."
She reached out to gently brush a strand of damp hair from Shen Yulan's forehead, her hands trembling.
Shen Zhirui stood behind her, silent but grim, his brows furrowed deeply as he looked down at his younger daughter. The atmosphere in the chamber was thick with tension—grief, guilt, and unspoken blame hovering in the air like smoke.
As they looked at the unconscious Shen Yulan on the bed, the same bitter thought took root in each of their hearts—if not for Shen Yuhan, would their beloved Yulan have ever been reduced to such a pitiful state?
Just then, hurried footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. A moment later, the physician entered, accompanied by Xiao Ying, who looked breathless from running.
"Master Shen, Madam Su, Young Master Lin," the physician bowed quickly, setting down her medicine case. "Please allow me to examine the young miss."
Everyone stepped aside as the physician moved to the bedside. Shen Yulan remained still, her face pale against the silk pillow, beads of sweat glistening on her forehead.
As the physician checked her pulse, Lin Zhixuan stood rigidly by the side, his hands clenched into fists. Shen Zhirui's expression darkened further, and Madam Su couldn't stop herself from dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief, her heart breaking at the sight of her daughter's condition.