The next two days slid by with the same gentle boredom that had settled over the East Villa: eating, sipping tea, chatting with Xiao Yue, and practicing writing. Li Mingxuan had not called for Ji Yu once during these five days. No messages, no envoys—nothing. It was beginning to look like procuring five million US dollars was an impossible task. But honestly, giving that scumbag a hard time felt like a well-earned justice.
Ji Yu took advantage of the slow pace, not wasting a single moment. She slept when needed, ate whatever the villa provided without guilt, and spent afternoons with Xiao Yue. The girl was clumsy and earnest, with cheeks that puffed like a squirrel whenever she was frustrated. There was something quietly endearing about her, something that made Ji Yu's chest feel lighter.
One afternoon, while sipping tea in the courtyard—where the smell of wet stone and lotus drifted lazily—Ji Yu casually asked, "Xiao Yue, do you know how to read or write?"
Xiao Yue's eyes widened in shock. "I… I don't, Madam," she admitted, voice trembling like it carried a heavy secret. "My pa never let me go to school."
Ji Yu blinked, processing the weight of that simple confession. Her restlessness, which had been simmering under the surface for days, sharpened into purpose. "From today onward, I'm going to teach you," she declared.
Xiao Yue's expression crumbled. Tears welled in her eyes, and she almost cried outright. "Madam…?"
Ji Yu reached over and brushed the girl's hair away from her face, forcing a small, maternal smile. "No theatrics. We start tomorrow. Letters, words, sentences. Do it well, and I'll read you stories—real ones. Pirates, queens, wars. Maybe none of the scary parts."
---
The morning was still quiet, the sun hanging lazily in the sky as if it too was reluctant to start the day. Ji Yu sat cross-legged on the worn wooden floor of the courtyard, a small ceramic cup of tea resting beside her. Xiao Yue was in front of her, a large sheet of rice paper spread on the ground, and a brush in her small hands that trembled like a frightened bird.
"Alright, Xiao Yue," Ji Yu said casually, her tone neither harsh nor sweet but easy, like she was talking about how to plant rice. "Let's start simple. The first character is '人.' It means… well, 'person.' Real basic."
Xiao Yue blinked at her, a little puzzled. "Person…? Okay… but my hand… it doesn't want to do it right."
Ji Yu snorted. "That's because you're gripping the brush like you're trying to break a rock with it. Relax your fingers. Hold it soft, like you're holding a sleeping kitten."
Xiao Yue tried to adjust, but the brush still wobbled, leaving an uneven trail of black ink across the paper.
"Oops," the girl mumbled, her cheeks reddening.
Ji Yu sighed, but her lips twitched in amusement. "Not bad for a start. But let's not aim for bad. Let's try again. Light touch. Pretend it's just a lazy little stream running down the paper."
The girl exhaled sharply and tried again. The brush still wobbled, but slightly less than before. The first stroke was straighter, the second one drifted just a bit.
"I can't," Xiao Yue said, almost ready to burst into tears.
Ji Yu reached forward without hesitation and tapped the paper lightly. "Hey, listen. Nobody just wakes up knowing how to write. It's not like the stories where someone becomes a master overnight. Took me years just to figure out half of this stuff."
Xiao Yue's eyes grew big. "You… you didn't know either?"
Ji Yu smirked. "Of course not. I used to mess up every stroke. My first character looked like a chicken fart." She chuckled dryly. 'Saying a white lie is sometimes good for the child' she thought in her heart.
Xiao Yue let out a small giggle despite herself, the tension in her small body easing a bit.
"See?" Ji Yu said, setting the tone like she was stating a fact. "Mistakes are fine. They're how you get good."
Ji Yu dipped her own brush into the ink and wrote a perfect '人' on the paper.
"Look closely," she said, "short stroke first, then long diagonal. Like this."
Then, without ceremony, she took Xiao Yue's hand in hers, steadying it. "We'll do it together. Just follow my lead."
Xiao Yue's hand moved under Ji Yu's firm but gentle guidance. Her strokes were wobbly at first but gradually started to connect more like the real character.
"There," Ji Yu said after a while, "your first proper 'person.' Not perfect, but it's something real."
Xiao Yue's lips trembled, and a tear slowly slid down her cheek. "Madam… I never thought I could do this."
Ji Yu looked at her, her eyes unreadable but soft. She brushed the tear away without a word.
"Everyone starts somewhere," Ji Yu said casually, as if she were explaining how to boil water. "Today it's 'person.' Tomorrow, maybe 'home,' or 'flower,' or whatever you want."
Xiao Yue blinked up at her, a tiny spark of hope in her eyes.
"Really?" she asked, voice small and hushed.
Ji Yu smiled faintly, that rare softness barely breaking her usual sharp edges. "Really. You'll see."
The courtyard stayed quiet, save for the soft drip of ink and the slow, steady rise of their shared determination.
..
..
That afternoon, Ji Yu wandered slowly through the villa garden, her expression calm and almost dreamy. The soft breeze played with the edges of her shawl, and the sunlight filtered gently through the branches of the old trees, casting lazy patterns on the ground. Everything around her moved at its own quiet pace, completely different from the harsh clang of swords and the thunder of cannons that usually filled her ears.
The world outside—the one full of fighting, shouting, and endless strategy—felt like a distant memory, almost unreal in this moment. Here, there were no orders to give, no enemies to face, no battles to win. Just the gentle hum of bees moving from flower to flower, the soft rustle of leaves, and the faint trickle of a small stream nearby.
Ji Yu stopped in front of a cluster of tiny wildflowers that stood stubbornly among the grass, their colors small but vivid against the green. Yellow, white, and soft pink petals, all reaching toward the light. They weren't grand or showy, but they thrived despite the odds. It reminded her of something—how people like her, no matter how battered by life, still kept going.
She inhaled deeply, the mixed fragrance of the flowers filling her senses. There was a strange comfort in that smell, something fresh and pure that seemed to wrap around her like a warm blanket. Her chest, which had always been tight and heavy from the soul injury, began to feel lighter, as if the garden's quiet strength was seeping into her soul.
Ji Yu smiled faintly, a rare softness spreading across her face. She touched a petal gently, marveling at how something so small could hold so much life. The simplicity of it all—the flowers, the wind, the quiet—made her feel at ease.
Suddenly, as if fate decided to stir the pot, Xiao Yue burst into the room the following afternoon, breathless, her eyes bright like a bird's.
"Madam! Madam! You won't believe—" she panted, plopping onto the stool across from Ji Yu, crumbs scattering.
Ji Yu raised an eyebrow. "Slow down."
"The maids… they're talking about Lady Su! Lady Su did something incredible yesterday!" Xiao Yue practically exploded with excitement.
Ji Yu's attention sharpened. "Which Su? Spell it out."
"The Su family's only daughter. Lady Su! She challenged the world chess champion on live TV! Everyone's talking about it—newspapers, radio, even the market folks are shouting her name!"
Xiao Yue recounted every detail with the enthusiasm of someone retelling legend: Lady Su had petitioned to let women participate in the male-dominated world chess championship and had been laughed at and scorned. Instead of backing down, she challenged the reigning champion—a man undefeated for five years, called a legend.
"Everyone said women should be at home, bear babies, serve men," Xiao Yue said bitterly. "But Lady Su didn't care. She provoked him, challenged him, and guess what? She beat him in just thirty moves."
Ji Yu's curiosity piqued. "Thirty moves?"
"Exactly! And he claimed he went easy on her because she was a woman. But she beat him again, and again… five times in total! The fifth time, the champion clutched his heart and fainted from shock!" Xiao Yue's voice trembled with pride.
Ji Yu laughed softly, a sound of amusement mixed with approval. "Of course, the female protagonist wouldn't be weak." She thought in her heart.
Xiao Yue, beaming, added, "The newspapers have her on the front page. They're calling her a hero. She's the president of the feminist movement club too."
Ji Yu leaned back in her chair, letting the words sink in. Lady Su's face—sharp, poised, unyielding—glimmered in the grainy photos. The public's adoration, the champion's collapse, the quiet confidence of Lady Su in every article… it was a narrative Ji Yu found impossible to resist.
"Bring me the paper," Ji Yu said, her voice a mixture of command and curiosity.
Xiao Yue ran off, returning shortly with a folded newspaper, as if it were treasure. The headline screamed: LADY SU TOPPLES WORLD CHAMPION: WOMEN'S RIGHT TO COMPETE WINS VICTORY.
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Thanks for reading.
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