Long Ruo held the single silver hairpin up to the moonlight, watching the cold metal gleam against the dark sky of the Northwest. It was a delicate thing, engraved with a plum blossom—it belonged to her grandmother, Old madame Guo.
Long Ruo smirked, the expression feeling alien on her thirteen-year-old face.
Living well? In this dump? For ten years, the real Long Ruo has been the forgotten line item on the Long family budget. No parents, no silver, and just two loyal maids to her name. They intended for this Northwest corner to be her coffin.
She had been trapped in this manor for three years now—plenty of time to familiarize herself with the rigid, suffocating mechanics of this manor. The Long family was under the impression that the "Jinx" was still rotting away in silence. They were right about one thing: the original Long Ruo, the child who had been broken by their neglect, was gone.
In her place was a woman who had no business being in a cradle. Back in the 21st century, she had been a top-tier scientist and a cutthroat businesswoman. Her life had ended in a flash of white light when her latest lab invention reached critical mass and exploded. Now, she was stuck in a body that smelled of damp earth and poverty.
Unfortunate for the Long family, she thought, tossing the hairpin onto a rough wooden table. She wasn't here to play the role of the filial daughter. She wasn't here to beg for a scrap of her father's affection. She was here to liquidate the "Long Family Affair" and leave them with a deficit they could never repay.
But revenge? Revenge was like a chemical reaction—if you rushed the catalyst, the whole thing would blow up in your face. It had to be a slow burn. It had to be calculated.
For now, she adjusted her posture, leaning back against a mossy stone wall. In her world, time was money, but here, time was the only thing she had in abundance.
No need to hurry, she mused, picking up a piece of dried pork she'd managed to trade from a kitchen boy. Let them play 'Happy Family' in the Peony Garden. I'll live my best life here in the shadows—eating well, sleeping soundly, and building my empire. Who would refuse a life this relaxed while the enemy does all the hard work of digging their own graves?
"Miss… the charcoal is damp again," Momo Su sighed. I could see her breath blooming in the frigid air like white smoke. "And the kitchen sent nothing but wilted greens and scraps today. They claimed the Second Miss is hosting a gathering in her courtyard for the young ladies of the manor."
I didn't lift my eyes from the scroll I was studying. "So, the mother is still finding ways to send us charcoal? It must be hard for her."
"Yes, Miss," Momo Su replied, her voice low.
"The reason remains the same. She claims she is merely 'discarding' waste to our courtyard so as not to offend the ancestors with extravagance. "
A faint, sharp smile pulled at my lips. To the rest of the world, it was an insult. To me, it was a fleeting moment of peace knowing another person is thinking of you.
"Miss, I truly cannot fathom the First Madam's heart," Han Lu interrupted, her face twisted with a bitter scowl. "Discarding trash? Using this courtyard as a refuse heap? You are her own flesh and blood, the true Eldest Miss! Does she think we are nothing but a bin for her leftovers?"
"Han Lu! You are overstepping! That is the First Madam you are slandering!" Momo Su's voice cracked through the cold like a whip.
Startled, Han Lu immediately dropped to her knees, her forehead hitting the frozen floor.
"Forgive me, Miss. This servant spoke out of turn. I was... I was simply blinded by grievance for you."
Rise, Han Lu. Don't waste your energy on a kowtow," I said, finally looking at the basin of damp, black coal. It was poor quality, but it was fuel. In this world, survival was the only currency that mattered. "Do not mind the 'insult.' Whether she calls it trash or treasure is irrelevant to me. It is enough to know that, even after thirteen years, I am still a debt she feels the need to pay. It is enough to know I am still in her thoughts."