"You think this teahouse is a place to get treatment, huh?!"
The harsh voice of Aunt Liu echoed sharply across the teahouse, now bustling with customers. Lian Xue struggled to stay upright, her legs trembling beneath her. Her head throbbed, her body trembled with cold, and her chest felt painfully tight. Her breaths came in short, ragged gasps. But she knew that showing any sign of weakness—or worse, answering back—would only make things worse.
"I asked you a question! Why are you just standing there, staring into space?! Get back to work or—"
Clang!
The sharp sound of a spoon falling onto the floor drew a few curious glances from nearby patrons. Lian Xue only then realized that her fingers had gone numb, unable to hold on to the metal. Her knees buckled slightly as she bent down to pick it up—but before her fingers could reach it, a loud slap landed brutally across her cheek.
Smack!
Several customers flinched at the sound, but none said a word. It wasn't the first time they'd seen something like this. They simply turned back to their tea, their conversations continuing as if nothing had happened—like her suffering was just background noise in their comfortable lives.
"You're disgusting," Aunt Liu hissed, her eyes burning with fury. "If you're sick, get to the back! Don't you dare make the customers lose their appetite looking at your pale, ghostly face!"
Her words stung more than the slap. Lian Xue bit her bottom lip, jaw clenched—not to argue, but to keep herself from crying out. The sting on her cheek burned like fire, and the silent judgment of the room bore down on her like needles. Some customers whispered to one another, others sneered, and a few even pushed their cups away, as though she were a disease contaminating their table.
Lian Xue's fists clenched at her sides. She wanted to say something, to assure them all she was fine and could still work—but her voice was gone, choked by pain and exhaustion. Her stomach had been empty since last night, her limbs weak, and now her face throbbed where the slap had landed. The heaviness of it all pressed her deeper into hopelessness.
"Don't just stand there! Move!" Aunt Liu barked again.
Without a word, Lian Xue turned and staggered toward the back kitchen. Her steps were unsteady, the world spinning before her eyes. As she pushed through the narrow wooden door that led to the back courtyard, her body finally gave out. She collapsed to the hard ground, her knees slamming against the dirt. Pain shot up her legs as she clutched her chest, struggling to breathe.
"Are you really planning to die here?"
The voice startled her. She looked up and saw Qian, the boy who helped with deliveries around the teahouse, standing a short distance away. His usual expression was unreadable—cold, indifferent—but she sensed something different today.
"I…" Lian Xue opened her mouth, but a sudden violent cough racked her body, cutting her off. The sound echoed through the courtyard, rough and painful.
Qian watched her for a moment, his face unreadable. Then he scoffed. "Don't die here. If you do, guess who's going to be stuck dragging your corpse away?"
His words were blunt—cruel even—but beneath them, there was something else. Concern, perhaps. That was how Qian was. He never said things kindly, but somehow, he still showed he cared.
"Here." He tossed something toward her lap. A piece of bread—old, dry, and half-stale. "I'm not about to watch someone starve to death in front of me."
Lian Xue stared at the bread for a moment, hesitant. "I…"
"If you don't want it, throw it away," Qian said quickly, already turning to leave.
He didn't wait for her answer, didn't press her. He simply walked off, leaving the choice in her hands.
Lian Xue looked down at the hard bread in her lap, then clenched her fingers around it. She knew he was pretending not to care—but his small gesture warmed something inside her. In a world that seemed to turn its back on her every day, even this meager offering felt like kindness.
With trembling hands, she took a small bite. The bread was dry, tasteless, and rough, but for her, it tasted like survival. It gave her just enough strength, just enough hope, to keep moving forward through another miserable day.
Hours passed. Lian Xue remained outside, her body still weak, her breath shallow. She tried to stand when she heard approaching footsteps—Aunt Liu again, her face twisted in fury.
"So now you think you can just lounge around out here?!"
"I—" Lian Xue tried to explain, but the pain in her throat silenced her.
Aunt Liu's hand grabbed her arm harshly, yanking her to her feet. "This teahouse doesn't have room for lazy burdens like you! Know your place!"
Lian Xue wanted to say she was just resting, that she was trying to recover, but Aunt Liu didn't give her a chance. With a hard shove, she sent Lian Xue crashing back to the ground.
"You think being sick means you can just lie around all day?!" she shouted.
Aunt Liu stepped forward again, raising her hand for another slap.
"You're lucky I even let you stay here at all!" she screamed, her voice shrill and full of rage.
Lian Xue lowered her gaze, every muscle in her body tense, bracing for another blow. Her fists curled weakly, and she wanted to scream, to fight back, to cry—but she had no strength left. She was like a doll, tossed around by cruel hands, voiceless and powerless.
"I don't need dead weight like you here!"
Aunt Liu's hand rose again, but this time a voice interrupted sharply.
"That's enough."
Aunt Liu froze mid-swing. She turned, eyes narrowing.
Qian stood behind them, arms crossed, face unreadable but eyes serious.
"You're interfering now?" Aunt Liu snapped.
Qian shrugged casually. "If you kill her, who's going to take care of the body? You think anyone here wants to clean up after that?"
His words were delivered in his usual dry tone, but the weight behind them was unmistakable. Aunt Liu hesitated, eyeing the watching customers from the corner of her eye. She clicked her tongue and turned away.
"Don't let me catch you messing up the teahouse again, Lian Xue!" she growled before storming off.
Lian Xue remained motionless, trembling, her heart pounding with a strange mix of shame and gratitude. Qian, despite all his harshness, had stood up for her.
"Why are you such an idiot?" Qian muttered, crouching beside her.
Lian Xue looked at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I…"
"Don't talk," he said curtly, handing her a small pouch of water. "Drink."
With shaking fingers, she took it and sipped slowly, the cool water easing the burn in her throat.
And for a moment, just a brief moment, it felt like someone saw her not as a burden, but as a person worth saving.