The days passed in a slow blur, each one blending into the next as Bai Yue—no, Lin Xinya—focused on regaining control over her frail body. Every morning, she forced herself to sit up, her arms trembling under the strain. Every afternoon, she would take cautious steps around the cramped room, leaning against the wall for support. It was an excruciatingly slow process, but Xinya knew better than anyone that healing took time.
Sitting on the edge of the rickety bed, she examined the bowl of thin porridge before her. It was bland, barely enough to sustain her, but she had no choice. Picking up the wooden spoon, she took small, measured sips, forcing herself to eat despite the nausea curling in her stomach.
"Not enough nutrients," she muttered to herself, pushing the empty bowl away. "If this continues, I'll never regain my strength."
With a sigh, she reached under her pillow, pulling out a small bundle of herbs she had carefully salvaged from the neglected storeroom the maid occasionally allowed her access to. The dried ginseng was weak in potency, but it would have to do for now.
Crushing the brittle roots between her fingers, she whispered, "Slow and steady."
She brewed a makeshift tonic, drinking it in slow gulps. The bitter taste coated her throat, but she ignored it. Survival was more important than comfort.
As she set the empty cup down, the door creaked open, and the timid maid from before entered, carrying a tray of food. Xinya's sharp gaze caught the subtle tremor in the maid's hands, the way her eyes darted nervously to the floor.
"Miss Bai Yue," the maid said softly, placing the tray on the table.
Xinya remained silent for a moment, then asked, "Who ordered this?"
The maid hesitated, biting her lip. "The master… said you should eat better," she finally answered.
Bai Zemin. The head of the Bai family.
Xinya narrowed her eyes. The sudden generosity after years of neglect was suspicious. She picked up the teacup and brought it close to her lips, pausing just before taking a sip. A faint metallic scent lingered in the steam. Her lips curled into a mirthless smile.
"Tell the master I appreciate his concern," she said lightly, setting the cup back down.
The maid bowed quickly and scurried away, leaving Xinya alone once more. She exhaled slowly and glanced at the tea.
"So, they're still trying," she murmured, tapping her fingers against the cup. "But you'll need better tricks to fool me."
Pouring the liquid into a nearby potted plant, she watched as the leaves curled inward, darkening almost immediately. Arsenic, she mused. Subtle, diluted, but still deadly over time.
She leaned back against the bed, a smirk forming on her lips. "I see how this game is played now."
From now on, she wouldn't just survive—she would fight back. Quietly, subtly, but surely.
As the days went by, Xinya's strength began to return. Her once frail body, though still weak, could now withstand longer walks around the room. Her skin, once pale and sickly, had regained a faint glow. And with every small victory, her determination grew stronger.
One morning, as she sat by the window, watching the servants bustle about the courtyard, a familiar voice echoed from outside.
"I heard that the little orphan is still alive," Bai Rong's mocking tone rang out. "Honestly, I thought she'd be long gone by now."
Xinya closed her eyes for a moment, suppressing the urge to roll them. Bai Rong again. The woman seemed to take endless pleasure in tormenting her.
Steeling herself, Xinya stood up, straightened her thin robes, and walked to the door. She would not be cowering in the shadows any longer. She was ready to face whatever came her way—one step at a time.
As she pushed the door open, the cold morning air hit her face, and for the first time in this new life, she smiled.
Weak today… but not for long.