Lian Xue had been warned, but the teacup still slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor. A stinging slap landed on her cheek, snapping her head to the side. Heat surged across her face, and though her tears were ready to fall, she held them back. She dared not fight back.
Laughter from the tea house customers echoed around her, as if nothing had happened—as if this humiliation were nothing more than a casual performance for their amusement.
"I… I didn't mean to…" Her voice trembled, barely audible beneath their laughter. Madam Zhao, the tea house owner's wife, glared at her with fiery eyes full of contempt.
"You're nothing but a cursed child! You've always brought nothing but trouble!" Her voice pierced the air like a whip, cutting deeper than the slap itself.
Lian Xue bowed her head low and crouched down to gather the broken pieces scattered across the wooden floor. Carefully, piece by piece, she tried not to injure herself further. But her trembling hands betrayed her, and a sharp shard cut into her finger. A single drop of blood mixed with the spilled tea, staining the floor.
She clenched her teeth, trying to hold back the sob rising in her throat.
"Tsk! Hurry up and clean that mess!" Madam Zhao barked. "Don't let the customers see such a disgusting sight!"
Lian Xue nodded quickly, ignoring the stinging pain in her finger. She could feel all eyes on her—judging, mocking, condemning.
Meanwhile, the customers continued to laugh or shake their heads, treating her suffering like a mere distraction.
"She used to be such a sweet girl. Now she's nothing but a servant," someone muttered loud enough for her to hear.
"Well, ever since their child died, they've made her their scapegoat," another replied with a dismissive chuckle.
Lian Xue pressed her hands over her ears. She didn't want to listen—didn't want to feel. But their words sliced through her heart like sharpened blades.
After the slap, she returned to the kitchen, arms full of dirty dishes. Her hands were still trembling, and the burn on her cheek grew more painful every time a breeze came in through the open window.
"You really are hopeless, Lian Xue."
The mocking voice of Zhao Lan, the second child of the household, pulled her from her daze. He leaned against the kitchen doorway, arms folded across his chest. He was three years older, and he had always enjoyed lording over her like a spoiled prince.
"I didn't do it on purpose," Lian Xue replied, trying to remain calm despite the storm inside her heart.
Zhao Lan scoffed and stepped closer, flicking her forehead with casual cruelty. "If you can't even work properly, then you shouldn't be eating. You're a burden to this family."
His words pierced her soul, shrinking her spirit even further.
Her hands clenched beneath the table. "I'm doing my best."
Zhao Lan laughed coldly, as though her effort was a joke. "Don't dream that Mother or Father will ever pity you. Ever since my brother died, you've been nothing in this house."
Lian Xue lowered her head. She knew it. She had always known. But hearing it spoken aloud still hurt more than anything.
"Better hurry up and finish those dishes before Mother comes back and hits you again," Zhao Lan added before turning and walking away. The injustice pressed heavily on her chest, making her feel like a ghost haunting a home she could no longer call her own.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. Her small hands continued working, washing each dish in cold water that stung her skin. Every drop that touched her fingers only deepened the chill spreading through her heart.
It was still afternoon, yet her body already ached with exhaustion. After the dishes, she still had to sweep the floor, wipe down the tables, and prepare tea for the next round of customers. Madam Zhao's eyes watched her like a hawk, ready to strike at the smallest mistake.
As she carried a tray of tea toward one of the tables, someone deliberately stuck a foot out from beneath the tablecloth.
Crash!
The tray toppled to the ground. Cups and a teapot clattered to the floor. Hot tea splashed on her hand and ankle, and she winced as the pain surged through her body.
Laughter erupted again from the customers. Zhao Lan smirked with satisfaction, clearly proud of his cruel prank.
"My goodness, Lian Xue! You really are a curse!" Madam Zhao's voice thundered across the room.
Lian Xue scrambled to her knees, picking up the shattered pieces as quickly as she could. Every chuckle, every whisper made her feel smaller, more invisible, more unwanted.
"Brother, I didn't mean to…" she whispered, trying to explain, but her voice was hollow.
"No more excuses!" Madam Zhao grabbed her arm harshly. "Look at this mess! Are you trying to bankrupt us?"
"I'll replace—" She didn't get to finish her sentence. Another slap cracked across her cheek, harder than the last.
"Get out of here! Don't show your face in front of the customers again!" Madam Zhao's words were like thunderbolts, shattering the last fragment of dignity Lian Xue had left.
She remained kneeling, head bowed, hands still clutching the broken shards. The sting on her face was nothing compared to the pain inside.
Without another word, she rose and walked unsteadily to the back of the tea house. She knew that if she argued, the punishment would only worsen.
In the backyard, she sat down on the cold ground. The wind brushed her swollen cheek, and her eyes wandered toward the dusky sky.
Is this how her life would always be?
She held her injured hand close to her chest. Tears welled in her eyes, but she knew crying would solve nothing. From a distance, she could hear Zhao Lan laughing with his friends. His words still echoed in her mind:
"You're nothing in this house."
She took a deep breath. If she wasn't anything here, then where did she truly belong? Would she forever be nothing more than a shadow, a ghost among the living?
That night, she sat alone in a corner of the kitchen, quietly eating the leftover scraps given to her. Cold, bland—but it was still food. At least she could eat today.
As she prepared to sleep on the hard kitchen floor, the sound of footsteps made her flinch. Zhao Lan stood at the doorway, holding a small bowl of warm porridge.
Lian Xue looked at him cautiously. "Why…?"
Zhao Lan placed the bowl on the table and sat down on a wooden stool. "I want to talk."
Lian Xue stayed silent, waiting.
"Aren't you tired of being treated like this?" he asked suddenly.
Lian Xue bit her lip, trying to keep her emotions in check. "What do you mean?"
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. "I just wonder… how long you'll keep enduring this."
She clenched her fists. "I don't have anywhere else to go."
Zhao Lan chuckled softly, but there was no mockery in his voice this time. "Then I guess you really are foolish, Lian Xue."
"I'm not foolish," she replied, eyes burning.
"But you're still here, even though everyone treats you like garbage."
She looked away. His words rang true, but where else could she go? Every time she thought of leaving, the fear of the unknown consumed her.
"If you're really not foolish," Zhao Lan said quietly, "don't you want to find a better place to belong?"
Lian Xue looked at him uncertainly. "What are you trying to say?"
He gave her a faint smile and stood up. "I'm just asking." Then he walked away, leaving her alone with a question that lingered in the still air.