As Feng Yan lay in the quiet room at Ning Jue's house, memories of her past life began to flood her mind. She could almost feel the cold, hard ground beneath her knees, the biting wind cutting through her thin clothes, as she knelt outside the Feng Manor, begging for the love that would never come.
In her previous life, she had knelt there for an entire day and night, her body trembling with cold and exhaustion. When the morning sun finally rose, she had collapsed from sheer fatigue. Her consciousness had faded, but just before she completely lost awareness, she vaguely remembered a warm hand lifting her from the ground.
Who was it? she thought, the memory painfully vivid. It was one of the old servants… Yes, it was Auntie Liu.
Auntie Liu had been the one to find her, a kind and gentle soul in a household full of cruelty. She had carried Feng Yan to the servant quarters, where she had lain on a rough bed, feverish and weak. The fever had been severe, a result of the cold wind and the long hours of kneeling on the frozen ground. But it wasn't just the fever that hurt her—it was the realization that her adopted family hadn't even noticed her absence. They didn't care if she lived or died.
"Feng Yan, drink this. It will help with the fever," Auntie Liu had whispered, holding a cup of bitter medicine to her lips. The taste was awful, but Feng Yan had swallowed it, her body too weak to protest.
The old servant had taken care of her in secret, hiding her away in the servant quarters so that no one would discover her. Feng Yan had been grateful, but also deeply saddened. My own family didn't care about me, but a mere servant did…
After a few days, when she finally had enough strength to get up, Feng Yan had decided to go back to the main manor. She had been desperate, terrified of being sent away to the mountains. She thought that if she could just beg hard enough, maybe they would let her stay.
She had stumbled to the main hall, her legs still shaky, her body weak. As she entered, she had seen Feng Yue, her adopted sister, walking down the corridor. Feng Yue's eyes had lit up with a cunning glint when she saw Feng Yan.
"Feng Yue," Feng Yan had whispered, her voice hoarse. "Please, help me. I don't want to go to the mountains. Can you talk to Mother and Father? Please…"
Feng Yue had pretended to consider her request, her expression thoughtful. But Feng Yan hadn't known then what she knew now—that Feng Yue was as cold-hearted as their parents, if not more so. She had only seen the surface, the false kindness that hid her sister's true intentions.
"Well," Feng Yue had said, tilting her head as if in deep thought, "I suppose I could help you. But… you'd have to do something for me in return."
Feng Yan, desperate and naive, had clutched at this tiny sliver of hope. "Anything, Feng Yue. I'll do anything."
A small smile had crept across Feng Yue's face, a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I have a painting submission coming up. If you help me with it, I'll talk to Mother and Father. They listen to me, you know."
Without a second thought, Feng Yan had agreed. She had been so frightened of being cast out that she hadn't even realized she was walking into a trap.
"Thank you, Feng Yue," she had said, tears of relief in her eyes. "I'll help you. I promise."
Feng Yue had sent her back to the servant quarters, telling her to wait there until she was called. Then, she had gone to their parents, the wheels of her plan already turning in her mind.
"Mother, Father," Feng Yue had said sweetly, "I need Feng Yan's help with my paintings. She's quite skilled, and I could use her assistance."
Their parents, who only cared about their precious daughter's success, had readily agreed. Of course, if Feng Yan can be of use to you, then by all means, keep her here for a while longer, they had said.
For them, it had been nothing more than a convenient way to extract more use from Feng Yan before discarding her. And Feng Yan, too afraid to see the truth, had been grateful for the crumbs they had thrown her.
How could I have been so blind? Feng Yan thought bitterly, her heart aching with the memory. I was nothing to them. Nothing but a tool, to be used and discarded as they saw fit.
The pain of those days still lingered, a deep wound that had never fully healed. But now, with the knowledge of her past life, Feng Yan knew better. She wouldn't fall into the same traps again. She wouldn't allow herself to be manipulated and discarded like a broken toy.