They came for me at dawn.
They came at dawn, not with swords or chains, but with laughter that cut through the morning air
Three of them — Eastern Wing servants, the smirk on their faces like no one is watching . They held out a new set of robes.
"Elder Mo says you're to work in the herb garden today," said the tallest, Jiao, his voice slick with false concern. "Since cultivation isn't for you… perhaps pulling weeds will be more your speed."
The others chuckled quietly, and one went through the motions of scrubbing the floor, exaggerated enough to be mocking.
I didn't lift my eyes. I was grinding Nightshade Moss between two stones — a harmless task, if you didn't know how it turned dangerous when mixed with sweat.
I set the mortar aside.
"Leave the robes," I said quietly. I felt neither shame nor anger. It was simply a statement of fact.
Jiao's lips twisted in a thin curl of mockery. "You'll wear them, Weak One. Or we'll dress you ourselves."
I met his gaze, not with fear, but curiosity, as if studying a specimen under a microscope. The faint amusement in his expression faltered.
I rose and took a silver needle from my desk, its tip dipped in Dew of the Silent Tongue — a paralytic that acted quietly, slowly, without warning.
I spoke without threat and without raising my voice.
"Tell Elder Mo, I'll be in the garden by sunrise," I said.
I brushed my fingers lightly against Jiao's arm. A faint touch — nothing more.
The garden lay silent in the early dawn. Dew clung to the leaves like tears, and the damp earth carried the faint scent of White Vein Root — harmless, unless laced with poison.
I knelt and began pulling weeds.
About an hour later, Jiao came back, a whip coiled in his hand.
"You think you can touch me and walk away?" he spat, voice sharp with anger.
His hand twitched, and the whip slipped from his grasp. He stared at it, frozen, helpless.
"What… what did you—?"
I didn't look up.
"Fatigue," I said. "Or poor Qi flow." I plucked another weed. "Weak bodies are fragile."
His face went pale, and he ran.
By midday, the whispers had already begun to spread. 'The Weak One cursed Jiao's hand.She doesn't need cultivation.She's a witch.She killed peonies with tea.'
Good. Let them fear. Fear is the first door ignorance cannot unlock.
That night, Lian'er brought water — boiled, untouched.
"Miss… did you really poison him?" she asked.
I wiped my fingers clean. "No. I taught him a lesson. And I'll teach anyone else who forgets my name."
She bowed deeper than before.
I sat by the window. The moon hung thin, like a blade.
Ink on my palm traced a list:Prince Wei — The dagger, the lie, the kiss.Su Lian — The smile as I died.Elder Mo — Called me weak, meant useless.Lin Patriarch — Signed the marriage decree.The World — Taught silence was safety.
Not yet. But soon. This was only day two.